Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

Ronan had stayed behind when Tristan and Yeula went to breakfast, and the notification was not what he had expected to see first thing in the morning.

"Return to Tartarus-B? Is this a joke?"

He thought about everything that had happened there, and more importantly, what had happened between him and Sarael.

Finding her shrine there had clearly been a clue about what this quest expected of him. But he couldn’t just go back. He wouldn’t. After everything he had suffered there, he knew that much.

Even with his newfound strength, he wasn’t going in alone.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he could return even if he wanted to. The Association had already sealed off the entire place before he’d even made it back.

And now that he was a fugitive, the portal leading to Tartarus-B was probably even more heavily guarded than before.

His confrontation with the Association seemed closer than he had initially thought.

"My system and Sarael are connected; I can’t just ignore this..."

✧ ✦ ✧

Zero: Good news, I finally found something related to water.

GodBound: Good timing.

Zero: But you’ll need to get it from your old fixer. That’s all.

Ronan raised a brow but didn’t ask further.

GodBound: Heard you have it?

16259: Straight to business, huh? No pleasantries like before?

GodBound: Would you even want them now?

16259: No, but it’s a shame. The old you was the only one who’d accept all my lower job offers.

GodBound: Good riddance then.

PING!

16259: Head to this location. We’ll discuss the details there.

Ronan stared at the message for a long moment, then pocketed his phone. The timing was almost too convenient: the notification about Tartarus-B, and now information about the mysterious water he’d been sitting on for weeks.

"Ronan?"

Sarael’s voice drifted through the door, followed by a soft knock.

"Anastasia said breakfast is ready. Are you coming?"

He opened the door to find her still in her casual clothes, her expression curious but not anxious. She’d gotten better at reading his moods, but this morning he wasn’t trying to hide anything.

"Something came up."

"Should I change back into my dress and come with you?"

"No, I can handle this on my own. And... I’ll admit it. I want to handle things solo for a while. Make sure I don’t get rusty."

Sarael tilted her head at that, her violet eyes studying his face for a long moment. He expected pushback. A pout, maybe.

A reminder that she was supposed to be his wife and wives didn’t get left behind.

But instead, she nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Mhm. You’ve gotten stronger. And I trust you."

She reached up and adjusted his collar, smoothing the fabric with her fingers.

"Besides, if anything goes wrong, I’ll feel it. And then I’ll come find you."

"That’s... reassuring."

"It was meant to be."

She stretched up and kissed his cheek, then stepped back.

"I don’t want my husband to get weaker because of me after all."

"Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone."

"I won’t~"

✧ ✦ ✧

The old fixer’s coordinates led Ronan to a warehouse district on the city’s southern edge, a place he’d visited a handful of times. And to his surprise, a place he definitely didn’t expect a fixer to pick.

The warehouse district was the complete opposite of abandoned.

It was one of the city’s most inhabited places, in fact.

"The complete opposite of Zero, huh?"

Ronan made sure to be on high alert. It was still daytime after all.

The address led to a busy commercial building just between two warehouses. A huge hunter guild called the ’Lion Makers’ used it as their headquarters.

It made Ronan double-check if he really had the right address.

Ronan stared up at the Lion Makers’ headquarters. The building was all glass and steel, gleaming in the afternoon sun like it had something to prove. Hunters came and went through the main entrance, some in guild uniforms, others in casual clothes with weapons strapped to their backs.

It was the last place he’d expected a fixer to operate out of.

GodBound: You’re inside a guild HQ?

16259: Top floor. Don’t worry, I own the place.

GodBound: You own an entire guild?

16259: Technically, the guild owns itself. I just own the building.

Ronan pocketed his phone and pulled his hood lower over his face. The mask helped, and Sarael’s lingering illusion magic helped more, but walking into a building full of hunters in broad daylight still felt like asking to get caught.

The lobby was exactly what he expected. Polished floors, a reception desk staffed by a woman who looked like she could bench press a car, and walls covered in framed photos of successful raids.

A few hunters glanced his way as he crossed toward the elevator, but none of them looked twice. He was just another anonymous figure in a building full of armed strangers.

The elevator ride to the top floor took long enough that he had time to second-guess himself twice. But the doors opened before he could talk himself into leaving.

The top floor was quieter than the lobby. The hallway stretched ahead of him, lined with doors that looked more expensive than anything else in the building.

At the end, a single door stood open, light spilling out into the corridor. His old fixer was exactly where he said he’d be.

The office was large but cluttered, with stacks of paper on every available surface and a wall of monitors showing various news feeds, guild announcements, and what looked like live footage of several different gates.

The man behind the desk was older than Ronan expected, late fifties maybe, with gray-streaked hair and the kind of tired eyes that came from decades of not sleeping enough.

"GodBound."

The fixer didn’t look up from his monitor.

"Or should I call you Ronan Night? Since we’re doing this face-to-face."

"You’re the one who invited me."

"I did. Sit down."

Ronan didn’t sit. He crossed his arms and stayed by the door, close enough to leave if he needed to.

The fixer finally looked up, and his tired eyes swept over Ronan with the flat assessment of someone who’d been evaluating hunters for longer than Ronan had been alive.

"You’re the third hunter I’ve worked with who was allowed to see my face. Consider it an honor."

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