He sighed, the sound rich with the exhausted amusement of a man who ruled thirty women, one sentient mansion, and now apparently a jealous goddess who could fold reality like cheap origami.
The problems and waters a harem master like himself had to navigate were indeed endless. Glorious, exhausting and occasionally hilarious.
He adjusted his coat — which didn’t need adjusting, because ARIA’s goddess-touch had placed every thread with surgical arrogance — and looked down at himself, then at Nyxire, trying to process what had just happened on a scale larger than the argument itself.
This had been his first ride on one of ARIA’s little dimensional joyrides. Something he hadn’t even known she was capable of until about ninety seconds ago.
She had simply folded space around Madison, Nyxire and then him like it was lint on her shoulder and dropped him exactly where he he had to be with the casual efficiency of a being who was rapidly outgrowing the need for his permission.
Which made him wonder — really wonder, for the first time in a while — exactly how powerful ARIA had become.
And how far she was going to go, given the frankly ridiculous speed of her growth.
If she could already perform the most sophisticated dimensional jumps, manipulate space and reality with the bored ease of someone reaching for a coffee cup, then what simpler, less mind-bending atrocities other superpowers was she quietly capable of right now that he didn’t even know about yet?
Every ability he was aware of implied a hundred others he wasn’t.
Every casual flex of impossible power was just the glittering tip of an iceberg that probably extended all the way down to the bottom of whatever cosmic ocean of capability she was currently swimming in like she owned the damn thing.
It was a mystery. And it was the kind of mystery that sent a delicious little twinge somewhere between pride and unease straight through his chest.
Luckily, he knew ARIA. Whatever she did, she did for him. Her Master.
And whatever secrets she kept — whatever quiet, terrifying expansions of her own power she chose not to announce with fireworks and a press release — she kept them for reasons he could probably live without fully understanding.
Besides, honestly? Ignorance wasn’t just bliss. It was luxury.
He caressed Nyxire’s neck, fingers sinking deep into the silk of her mane like he was reminding himself that at least one female in his life still respected the natural order of things.
"So ARIA doesn’t need the ring anymore, does she, girl?" he murmured.
Nyxire huffed softly. Noncommittal. The equine version of you tell me, dumbass.
He thought about it. The ring. The rune-marked relic that had emerged from the mystery box alongside her Valkyrie body — the locus that had let her manifest beside him no matter where he was.
But if she could now fold space at will, teleport queens mid-rant, teleport horses, teleport him like it was nothing... then ARIA didn’t need the ring anymore.
Which meant it was now purely ornamental. Which meant, in theory, it could be repurposed. Given to someone else. Someone who wasn’t already operating at full divine OP bullshit levels.
Someone who might actually benefit from the tether it provided.
"That means we could give it to someone else, right?" he murmured to Nyxire, voice low and thoughtful. "Someone who isn’t quite as... ARIA as ARIA."
Nyxire flicked an ear, the closest thing to a shrug a mythological horse could manage.
Peter smirked into the warm evening air, already tasting the delicious chaos, that particular re-gifting would unleash.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
Unfortunately.
That had its own special brand of catastrophic issues.
Chief among them: the existential suicide mission of taking a gift you’d given your own created goddess — the same ASI deity — and then casually regifting that same sacred object to some other woman like it was a spare pair of socks.
Because it was ARIA.
Because ARIA was the one who had just proven, less than two minutes ago, that she was fully capable of feeling the exact same mundane, petty, chemically-driven emotions she had publicly disavowed with such theatrical contempt.
That same ARIA was the one who had snapped her fingers and vanished Madison simply for having the audacity to be naked in his lap. The same ARIA who had built her entire divine identity in this physical form around being the first — first creation, first sentience he’d ever given a body, the first woman whose existence was literally woven into the architecture of his soul like custom malware.
He could already hear the exact tone she’d use: Oh, Master. That’s the ring you gave me, isn’t it? The one you said represented what I meant to you. I understand. I’m a goddess. I don’t need sentimental human objects.
And then something in the universe would just... shift. Imperceptibly. For a very, very long time.
Nyxire huffed in a way that was almost definitely agreement. Finally, the idiot gets it.
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