Chapter 57 – The Least Serious Problem
Orestis appeared outside the gates of Nomyra and wondered about the practicality of getting a temporary place within the city.
At least that way, I don’t have to land outside and go through the gates every time.
Maybe something small, near the docks. What was the greater inefficiency—wasting money or wasting time?
The gates were nearly empty at this hour. A single guard sat behind the entry ledge, looking as though he’d made peace with boredom several hours ago. Orestis walked through without ceremony. The guard glanced at him, made a notation, and returned to whatever internal monologue sustained him through the night shift.
The streets were quieter than during the day but far from deserted. Nomyra didn’t sleep so much as it dimmed. Tavern light spilled across cobblestones. A pair of scholars argued theology on a bridge. Somewhere nearby, someone was playing a stringed instrument badly enough to qualify as an act of aggression.
He found Maxim exactly where he expected—lounging against the wall of Lyse’s temple, legs stretched out, head tilted back as though stargazing were a productive use of his time.
At least he’s not out chasing some woman. It would have annoyed me to waste time looking for him.
Orestis walked up and crouched in front of him. “We need to talk.”
Maxim raised his eyebrows. “Did you come to help me convince My Goddess?”
“No. But that’s open for negotiation.”
Good thing I ignored his request earlier. It’s become a bargaining chip now.
Right at that moment, the temple doors opened and a priestess stepped out, carrying a glass of water on a small tray. She offered it to Orestis with a polite incline of her head.
He accepted it without protest. He was familiar with priests. If he refused, he’d have to endure the ritual of polite insistence—please take it; no, I’m fine; it’s our pleasure to serve; I’m not thirsty; take it for when you do get thirsty—and he did not have the patience for that kind of back and forth.
Maxim looked at the glass, then at the priestess. “How come I don’t get one?”
Before the priestess could respond, Orestis said, “What’s the point? You don’t need sustenance.”
“They don’t know that,” Maxim said. “And it’s a matter of principle.”
The priestess gave Maxim a neutral look. “We do know; our goddess has already informed us.” Then, she turned to Orestis with a polite smile. “Please let us know if you need anything.”
Maxim raised a hand. “Thank you, we will.”
“Not you,” the priestess said. “Just him.” Then she turned and walked back inside.
Maxim stared after her. “Am I being deliberately snubbed?”
Orestis didn’t know why he was acting so surprised; he had been kicked out of the place for a reason. He took a sip.
Lemon water. Quite refreshing.
He drew on some divine power and shaped two simple energy constructs—a chair and a small platform to set the glass on. Nothing elaborate; just functional enough to avoid crouching for the duration of a conversation he suspected would be longer than he wanted.
Maxim recovered with the resilience of a man accustomed to professional rejection, and used mana to create a similar chair for himself.
He then expanded the platform’s surface area, rested an arm on it, then leaned forward. “So. What do you want to talk about?”
Orestis set down the glass. This was going to be humiliating. He said it anyway.
“I need your opinion on a birthday gift.”
Maxim’s expression went from surprise to outright disbelief. Then, he pointed a finger at Orestis, as if to say, You?
For some reason, that last action was unreasonably irritating.
***
Of all the things Maxim had expected to hear from the most feared man on three continents, I need your opinion on a birthday gift was not among them.
In fact, it wouldn’t have even made it onto the list of things he was unlikely to say—because it was that far outside the realm of what Maxim could imagine. And he had pretty good imagination, too.
Having fought and interacted with him for three hundred and forty-seven years—and four months and eleven days—Maxim had developed what he considered a thorough understanding of Orestis’s personality.
The person in front of him right now upended that understanding almost completely.
The Orestis he remembered did not sit outside temples appreciatively sipping on lemon water. He did not go for walks with goddesses, did not have friends, did not help people in need. And he most certainly did not ask anyone for giftadvice.
Could there be so much of a difference from merely regaining the ability to feel joy and pleasure from life? Doubtful. Maxim was carrying that curse now, and his personality hadn’t really changed. Something else must’ve been the underlying cause for the change.
“Why didn’t you ask me about this earlier?” Maxim asked. “We were together all day.”
“I only thought of it a few minutes ago,” Orestis replied. “Besides, the gift is for Eirene. I couldn’t have discussed it while she was nearby.”
Maxim tilted his head, conceding the point. “Yes, I suppose she’d have heard it since she’s dual training.”
Orestis narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”
Now wasn’t that interesting; his reaction had come just a little too fast.
Maxim shrugged and said, “The way she moves, her musculature—it was obvious.”
Orestis held his stare for a few seconds—controlled, pointed, carrying unspoken warning. Maxim looked back, finding his reaction very interesting indeed.
Most things slid off Orestis without purchase—threats, insults, attempts on his life. And yet, a casual observation about the girl had drawn his attention faster than a hawk spotting its prey. Which meant Orestis actually felt protective of her.
Orestis did not pursue the topic, choosing to move on instead. “In return for your advice, I will help you with Lyse—”
“Don’t take her name so casually!” Maxim reminded.
“—although I’m not entirely sure what you expect me to do,” Orestis continued without missing a beat.
Maxim didn’t expect Orestis to acknowledge his reminders—that was fine. Acknowledgement was never the point. If Maxim continued to say it every time Orestis was disrespectful, even if he ignored it, he would note it. And eventually, he would stop doing it. Not because he would realise that he was being disrespectful, but because he would arrive at the conclusion that it was simply less of a hassle to hear the reminder every time—more efficient, as he would put it.
“I want you to vouch for me, and also explain how this cursed body is not my fault,” Maxim replied, also moving on—from both topics.
“I told you, it’s not—”
“Yes, I remember what you said. But there’s no harm in trying. Besides, this is not the first time I’ve regressed to a point before she remembers blessing me. It’s normal for her to observe silently for a while. But this is the first time she’s ignored me for this long. And this body is the only thing that’s changed.”
Orestis raised his eyebrows, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hm… When you put it that way, I suppose it does make some sense. But you’re still assuming my words will hold any value at all in her eyes.”
Maxim smiled. “It will. If even my life-long enemy were to vouch for me, she’ll at least be willing to have a conversation with me. And once she’s willing to talk, I can sort out whatever’s between us.”
And whether Orestis realised it or not, the fact that he was hanging out with Eleuthera—and that they were on friendly enough terms to have playful arguments—would carry a lot of weight in his goddess’s eyes.
“Very well. I’ll think about what to say,” he conceded. “Now—the gift. I came to you because I assumed you’d have some experience. Given your history.”
It had been shocking the first time he heard it. Now, it was starting to sound funny.
The fact that Orestis was here, now, meant he had no one else to turn to. It was even more amusing to think that he had no idea what to give someone. Pitiful, too. But mostly amusing.
“You’ve come to the right person. Obviously. But before I offer my wisdom, help me sate my curiosity first.”
“Regarding?”
“How a human ended up turning into a demon.”
Orestis was human now, after regressing—which meant that this was his original race. But Maxim had always known him as a demon. Even the earliest history books described him as a demon.
That he somehow changed his race was obvious. As for the how and the why, Maxim had a few guesses—but he would prefer to have them confirmed.
Orestis grimaced. “Does that really matter?”
“It’s a gap in my knowledge. Of course it matters. And it’s part of the price for my help.”
“I would rather you didn’t know about it. Less chance of you screwing me over by accident.”
The words all but confirmed Maxim’s guess. “Does it have something to do with the Demon God?”
Orestis’s gaze sharpened into something cold. A warning, delivered without words.
Maxim raised both hands. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say his name. I did read about how his divinity works.”
According to the history books, the Demon God would always hear it if his name was spoken out loud. When Maxim had asked his goddess if that was true, she’d told him that it was—that the Demon God had modified his own divinity so that it would work that way.
Maxim could never understand why anyone, let alone a god, would willingly do something that bothersome. To hear millions calling him? Even the idea was annoying.
“Good. I don’t want to draw his attention. Not now, at this stage,” Orestis said.
“Yeah, don’t worry about that. That god doesn’t sound like someone I’d want on my back either. I’m just curious about the history. I assume you changed your race hoping the curse would disappear?”
Which didn’t work, obviously.
“No,” he shook his head. “I’d already done enough research to know that wouldn’t work. Mostly, I wanted the soul affinity that demons inherently had—another avenue for my research. He made the offer; I accepted. That’s all there is to it.”
“He made the offer?” Maxim asked. “Based on everything I’ve read, he didn’t seem like the charitable sort.”
“He’s not. He wanted to kill me by sabotaging the transformation.”
“Sounds like he was doing you a favour. Which makes it even more puzzling why you’d kill him,” Maxim tilted his head. “Based on your personality, I would have thought you’d welcome a god who wanted you dead.”
“I’d have had no problem if he only tried to kill me. But he was so threatened by my existence—or offended; take your pick—that he started getting in the way of my attempts to end my own life. Disrupting preparations. Sabotaging experiments.” He shrugged. “At that point, he was more of a nuisance than an asset. Getting rid of him was the better option.”
Yes, that was the Orestis he was familiar with. Killing a god because they got in the way of his suicide schedule was very much in character.
“Can we move on to the subject of gifts now?” Orestis asked.
“Right,” Maxim said, shelving the rest of his questions—the guy was starting to look annoyed. “Let’s start with the obvious one: everyone loves a nice spatial storage ring.”
“Are you crazy?” Orestis said immediately. “If my mother hears I gave Eirene a ring for her birthday, she’d start naming her grandchildren before I finished the sentence.”
Huh. So his mother was still alive at this time. Was it only her, though?
“Your father wouldn’t have anything to say?” Maxim asked nonchalantly.
“No. He’d wait until it was certain, then accept it without making a spectacle of it,” Orestis replied.
So both of his parents were still alive. Could that be related to why his personality had changed so much? That he has a reason to care?
Maxim looked at Orestis’s eyes. They were still dead. But less dead than before.
It was interesting.
“Fair enough,” Maxim said, setting the observation aside for now. “Forget the ring shape. What about a spatial storage item in general? A pendant, a bracelet—something without romantic implications.”
“The spatial and dimensional research hasn’t progressed to that point yet in this era,” Orestis said. “Nothing like that is commercially available.”
“So make one,” Maxim said. He recalled that Orestis’s aptitude for enchantment and magical engineering had been considerable—bordering on absurd, if the accounts were accurate. “You were always good with that sort of thing.”
Orestis seemed to consider it. Then shook his head. “Owning something that advanced, at her level, would make her a target. Anyone who understood what they were looking at would either want to study it or take it from her. It would bring her trouble.”
A pause. Then he added, almost as an afterthought: “I’ll give her one when she reaches the Sixth Circle. At that point, she wouldn’t need to worry about other Sovereigns coming to steal it.”
Maxim raised an eyebrow. “She has that much potential?”
“She’s Eleuthera’s Chosen.”
“Ah,” Maxim said. “That explains why Eleuthera was with you.”
Orestis nodded, then said, “That reminds me. Eleuthera told me that Eirene doesn’t want things. She said Eirene wants to be understood—to be given something that shows the giver was paying attention.”
And this guy was still unable to think of anything? Wow.
“Just out of curiosity,” Maxim said, “what have you thought of giving her so far?”
Orestis hesitated, then said, “All I could think of was creating a personalised spell.”
Maxim blinked. “You know… objectively, that’s not a bad gift.” He’d known people—Sovereigns—who would have offered kingdoms to learn even one of Orestis’s spells.
“It is, when compared to what Eleuthera’s giving her.”
“What’s she giving her?” Maxim asked, curious now.
“A mauthet.”
Well, those critters were pretty adorable, Maxim had to give it that. There was a reason they were ranked in the top five best gifts to offer to women.
Seeing his expression, Orestis said, “Exactly. This is not a competition I can win with technical merit.”
The fact that he—of all people—was competing with a goddess on who can give a better gift was so absurd that Maxim couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Stop laughing,” Orestis said. “This is a serious problem.”
“It’s likely the least serious problem you’ve ever had,” Maxim retorted.
Orestis paused. Then said, “Which is precisely why it does not make sense for it to be so difficult.”
Maxim composed himself. Difficult for him, maybe. And if the issue was the competition between them, things were even easier.
“You’re not going to beat a shadow kitten with an object,” Maxim said. “You said it yourself—she doesn’t want things. So stop trying to give her a thing. Give her something Eleuthera can’t.”
Orestis frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Let me ask you something,” he said. “You said Eirene wants to be understood. What does she actually care about?”
“Autonomy,” Orestis immediately answered. “The freedom to choose.”
Not surprising why she was chosen by Eleuthera. And he seemed to understand her well, since he didn’t even hesitate before answering. But he was still not getting the point.
“And what’s she missing right now?” Maxim asked. “Not things she wants. Things she can’t reach. What she’d feel deprived of.”
His frown deepened. And then something seemed to click. “Her family. She hasn’t seen her parents in months.”
“There you go. The goddess can give her a magical creature. But can she arrange for Eirene to see her family?”
“Technically, she can—now that the war’s over,” Orestis said. “Eirene can go herself, in fact.”
Maxim was about to educate the contrary bastard when he raised a finger. “But I get your point. Arrange something meaningful with her family. A gathering maybe. Except...” He trailed off. “It’s not a gift in any conventional sense, is it?”
“It would be you paying attention,” Maxim pointed out. “And, planning a surprise gathering for someone requires social awareness and emotional consideration. Two things you have historically treated like infectious diseases.”
“Your point?”
Maxim thought of the young woman he’d met earlier in the day. She had been silent during most of their conversations. But he’d noted her gaze. Sharp. Intelligent. Evaluating. They were the kind of eyes that saw and understood far more than people realised.
And based on how easily she shut down his advances, she was also socially competent. Unlike this dunce in front of him.
“Your effort is the gift. She’ll know what it cost you.”
Orestis went quiet. Then, with decisive finality, he said, “Very well. That will be the gift.”
“I’m glad you found my advice useful.”
“It was,” he agreed. “So—as agreed, I’ll go in and give a speech about you.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Maxim said. “I’d prefer to be there while you speak. But I can’t walk into the temple right now. However—” He held up a finger. “If you bring Eirene tomorrow, and Eirene brings Eleuthera, then Eleuthera can ask Lyse to grant me permission to enter her friend’s temple.”
Orestis looked at him. “You do realise that Lyse is probably listening to you scheme right now?”
“Don’t take My Goddess’s name so casually. And she would appreciate the meticulous work I’m putting in to regain her favour.”
Orestis sighed and stood. “Fine. I’ll return tomorrow. But no promises about Eleuthera. She’ll always do what she wants.”
Obviously—she was the Goddess of Freedom after all.
“One last thing before you go,” Maxim said. Orestis raised his eyebrows and waited.
“Before you met me, what was your plan for this life?”
Maxim didn’t need to elaborate; Orestis understood what he meant.
“Die of old age,” he replied.
That was an interesting idea. However—
“I doubt that will work.”
“Have you tried it?” Orestis challenged.
“No, but—”
“Exactly. So it might be the thing that does work.”
Maxim studied him with pity. The guy was in denial. He’d been through that before, too.
Still, if Orestis wanted to cling to that hope, it was his to cling to.
Maxim had his own perspective. If the regression couldn’t be stopped—and he believed it couldn’t—then the question wasn’t how to die. It was how to live with the loop.
But, repeating the same things over and over would get old. He would rather find a way to be immortal so that he could continue to experience new things.
Of course, the current state of immortality that felt nothing was frustrating, yes. But there were still a lot of things he’d yet to try. He was pretty sure Orestis would not have thought to experiment in the direction he was thinking of.
As for Orestis, he dismissed the energy constructs and set the empty glass beside the temple wall. Then, he teleported away.
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