It was funny.
Airi didn't rember eting soone quite like Ethan. And she'd seen a lot.
There was sothing about him. That absurd confidence. That chaotic energy. The kind of foolishness that made you pause—not because it was threatening, but because it made you curious.
But there was a problem.
"I can't et him. I'm chained here," Airi muttered, her eyes falling to the pitch-black chains that pierced into her skin—and deeper.
They weren't just wrapped around her body. They lived inside her, digging into the very thing that made her what she was.
Don't let the calm expression fool you. It hurt. Deeply.
But after so long—so many years, decades, eons—you stop reacting. The pain doesn't go away. You just stop flinching. You get used to screaming on the inside.
Airi exhaled quietly.
Her gaze returned to Ethan, still standing in that strange dark space, still waiting for her answer like he wasn't talking to a chained-up god-level existence.
She laughed. It ca out before she could stop it.
"Fine," she said, voice lighter than it had been in centuries. "I can't co to you. But you can co to ."
Her words didn't echo.
They just reached him.
Effortlessly.
—
"I can't co to you. But you can co to ."
Ethan blinked. Then smiled.
"Oho?"
The darkness in front of him stirred, twisting like a curtain being pulled back. It revealed a path—vague, shrouded—but it was there.
He crossed his arms.
'Either she wants to kill , or she really can't move. Chained, maybe locked away like Esray was…'
He tilted his head, more intrigued than concerned.
He wasn't stupid. Arrogant, sure. But not dumb.
A voice like hers didn't co from soone harmless. She might've been amused, even friendly—but that didn't an he hadn't pissed her off.
Ti to play cautious.
"Tempting offer," he called out, tone playful. "But walking into mystery corridors isn't exactly how I planned to die today."
A mont passed.
Then her voice again—steady and cool.
"I won't harm you."
Quick. No hesitation.
Ethan gave a short laugh.
"Words are cheap, my lady. I'll need a little more than a kind promise."
Silence.
Airi's lips twitched. She wasn't mad. Not yet. But sothing had shifted. Sothing deep.
A pull.
An instinct.
She didn't know what it was exactly, but it whispered: Don't miss this chance.
And beings like her… they didn't get whispers. They got prophecy.
"What would convince you?" she asked, a sliver of irritation in her voice now.
"A contract," Ethan replied, grinning. "Just sign it. Then I'll co—with my tea collection, of course. Maybe so pastries."
"…Fine."
'System. How many karmic points do I have?'
[45 trillion.]
Ethan nodded to himself.
Not bad. Honestly, after twisting the fate of three high-beings, he expected more. But he wasn't complaining.
'I need sothing binding. Sothing no trick, no level, no god-tier cheat can break. Can I afford that?'
[Yes. Stage-2 God Binding Contract. 20 trillion.]
'Do it.'
DING!
[Item Received: Binding Contract – Stage-2 God.]
'Stage-2, huh? That gives a ceiling. She's either there… or just under.'
And that ant she was still weaker than Skadi, who was already scratching Stage-4.
Weirdly, that made him feel better.
Which was crazy. Ethan was still a D-rank. A footnote. Background noise.
But because of the system?
He was sothing that even gods had to tread carefully around.
And he was getting used to it.
He conjured the contract, let it hover in the air, then flicked it into the dark.
"If you sign that, I'll co over. Bring tea, pastries. We can sit and talk like civilized prisoners."
The darkness wrapped around it—and vanished.
A mont later—
Tak.
The contract landed in Airi's hand.
She blinked.
Then her eyes narrowed.
"Stage-2 God-level contract?"
She stared at the paper like it had slapped her.
"How the hell does a D-rank on the tenth floor have this?"
Even beings from the fiftieth floor and beyond couldn't just pull sothing like this out of thin air.
But he had.
She smiled. A slow, almost childish smile.
"My instincts aren't wrong."
This one was real.
He wasn't powerful. But he had weight.
And maybe—just maybe—he could help her.
She signed it.
Another chain added.
Another bind.
She didn't care.
That's how desperate she was.
—
And Ethan ca.
—
He stepped through the veil and paused.
The air shifted instantly. He slled it. Felt it.
Power. Pain. Old, worn silence.
Airi stood in the middle of a shattered temple, chains crawling through her body like roots. Her cheeks were marked by black tears that never stopped falling. Her hair floated. Her feet didn't touch the ground.
It should've been terrifying.
But it wasn't.
It was haunting. Beautiful, in a way he couldn't explain.
"You made it," Airi said, smirking slightly. "What? Surprised by my radiant charm?"
Ethan shrugged, relaxed.
"Not really. I figured from your voice you weren't so crusty old ghost."
Then he added with a faint grin, "Besides… I've never seen an ugly god-level being. You're all unfair like that."
Her smirk widened. But he wasn't focused on her face.
His eyes tracked the chains.
The way they pierced.
The way she stood like she'd been that way for centuries.
"I'm more interested in that," Ethan said quietly. "You look like you're in constant pain."
She didn't deny it.
He snapped his fingers.
A table appeared between them—made of gold and silver, smooth and warm, like it had always been there. On top? A full tea set. Steam curled from the cups. Next to it, a tray of pastries glittered slightly with fairy sugar.
Even Airi blinked.
She didn't need food. Didn't crave it.
But the scent still made sothing in her stir.
Then, beside the table, a throne appeared—simple, elegant, annoyingly comfortable.
Ethan sat, one leg crossed over the other, arms resting lazily.
"Help yourself," he said, pouring the tea. "Angelic blend. The pastries are from so fairies. Don't ask how I get it, I have my own ways."
He smiled.
"Welco to Ethan's hospitality. Don't be shy…it's all on ."
—End of Chapter 68—
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