It's hot.

The flames engulfed him like a heavy shroud. It was as if every nerve in his body could now only transmit pain. He couldn't see anything. The flames were everything.

He couldn't think.

It's hot.

That wasn't a thought, but rather a scream, an impulse born from the depths of his body, not his throat.

It's hot, he repeated, inside his head.

But, in reality, that was all. They had thrown him into a bonfire, and it felt more like he had touched a hot pan.

It hurt, of course, but it was perfectly bearable. Amidst the flames, he slowly regained his sanity. He realized that the pain itself was a sign that everything was alright. If he had suffered severe burns, the pain would have ceased soon enough. He had always heard it since he was a child. When you have to worry about a wound is when it starts to not hurt.

Max placed his hands on the stone floor, directly through the flames. He had no scratches, no burns of any degree, no cuts. Or, for example, the feeling that he was going to faint from lack of oxygen.

He felt great. It had all been just a scare. Max took a deep breath.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to simply give a good scolding to the priestesses who had gathered to watch this spectacle. That is, all of them from the temple. But especially the damn one who had pushed him into the flames. He hadn't had time to see who it was. But he swallowed the screams.

He knew what they were doing. He had to admit that.

"I'm never going to do that again," Max promised himself, knowing that he would, anyway, if it ever proved useful.

He couldn't hold back or keep anything in the arsenal. Otherwise, he would only end up crushed. The priestesses, naturally, knelt one after another in silence, bowing their heads.

The test had been passed. He had passed the test. He had proven that he was who he said he was.

So it was time for them to kiss his boots. The elves had become extremely servile, desperate with pleasure. And they weren't even that religious. Not enough to dedicate their lives to a temple in any case. Max frowned. He hated this.

It didn't even serve to inflate his ego. After all, it wasn't him they were kneeling before.

They served his jailer. They were the most unpleasant type of person in this world and, also, ironically, the only ones he could depend on. Apart from Helen, of course, but she wasn't that different.

She had been raised in that culture. She believed that Ares was the ally of her people. She hoped... No, she trusted that when the time came, she would be loyal to him and not to the idea of a God who hadn't bothered to save her mother. But that didn't change the fact that for now, that was how it was. He was surrounded by religious fanatics.

And what did he expect? He had gone to a damn temple. He frowned, looked away, fell silent. It wasn't worth protesting at this point.

"Rise," Max said. And they did so without hesitation. "Look, I'm not here looking for slaves. I just need, we need a place to stay, and help. I'm new to this, and I've already had the champions of Poseidon and Hades thrown at me. They're not interested in me having time to amass strength."

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"We understand," replied the high priestess, named Tryphaena, still with her head bowed. "We will shelter you, and we will do everything in our power to accelerate your growth."

I hope it doesn't involve throwing me into more bonfires, he thought.

"Great."

——

The water swirled and twisted. It came to life, taking on a definite form. The water drew a giant with a trident. Poseidon, god of the sea.

Ronan knelt before his lord. He still felt the pain of his lost arm. It regenerated a few days ago, but he still felt the pain. A phantom pain.

One that never went away. Along with the pain was the lacerating humiliation of defeat.

To be defeated by a Champion like him was one thing. That alone was bad enough. He told Poseidon about it and was punished. But the truth tormented him. He had lost against a girl, a stray taken in by Ares' new stray.

"Lord Poseidon. Please, allow me to go after Max Miller. Even Hades' dog had his chance. My Lord, this time I won't fail you."

It was scary to speak through the silence that weighed, demanding, even if it was more of a plea. But Ronan couldn't remain silent, enduring the silent judging gaze of his god.

He meant it.

He believed he could do it. He was convinced.

Not much time had passed. Certainly, Max's power shouldn't have grown so enormously. No matter how hard he had trained, it was impossible for him to obtain results comparable to his own in less than a week. For that very reason, they had to act quickly. He was sure of it.

If he was allowed to pursue Max, all he needed to win was to kill that elf. Now that he knew she was a threat, he just had to defeat her first. It was extremely simple. Failure was not an option.

However…

"No." Poseidon was to the point, very clear and definitive.

"But... my Lord."

Ronan bowed his head even lower.

But, nothing.

A God was not questioned, although, suddenly... the phantom pain became even more intense.

——

Max and Helen retired to their new chambers as soon as night fell.

The priests and priestesses treated him as if he were Ares himself. No doubt they would die before allowing even his companion to be harmed. However, even in a place like this, he preferred not to keep her out of his sight. He had to see her to be able to ensure with his own hands that she was okay.

Max took off his armor.

It was always a monotonous and exhausting task, even more so than putting it on in the first place. The difference was obvious. You put it on at the beginning of the day and took it off at the end. Today he hadn't done much, but, even so, he was exhausted.

Max let himself fall onto the bed.

He closed his eyes gently, feeling the slight weight of Helen settling beside him, seeking his safety and warmth. He hoped the girl wouldn't notice that he was doing the same. He liked the pedestal she had placed him on.

Max gave her a half-hug, pulling her against his chest.

The girl purred, almost, settling in.

She was so damn adorable. If this was what it felt like to have a daughter, then...

He couldn't blame his mother because the hospital visits became increasingly infrequent.

Max frowned. There it was again. There was no reason to think about something so unnecessary. It... didn't matter anymore. Who had acted right, who had acted wrong. In any case, it was all over, and he had a new life. He had to do his best to take advantage of this second chance. That was all.

"Good night, Helen."

"Good night, Max."

He could almost feel the little girl's eyes closing, but before...

"I was so scared, seeing you fall into the fire." A soft, almost inaudible voice. "I thought my heart was going to stop."

"I'm sorry, little one."

"There you go again." It wasn't necessary to open his eyes to see her frown clearly. "Always apologizing for things that aren't your fault."

"I'm sorry?" His expression remained serious, however. He didn't want the girl to think he was taking her concerns as a joke.

"Max... I just wanted to say that I'm glad, I'm glad that things turned out well. That we have a place to live, that we're safer."

"I understand."

Although in reality they weren't safer or more in danger, they just were. Not much had changed. But if she felt safer, perfect for him.

"Good night," the little girl repeated.

"Yes. Tomorrow I'll take you for a walk around the city, so you can see everything. Because you've never been here, right?"

The girl shook her head. Her eyes remained closed, naturally, but he felt her move against his chest.

"Well, perfect, we can discover it together. See you tomorrow, baby girl."