Wandering Tech-Priest in Multiverse Chapter 40 long negotiation part 3

Hestia stood still, watching Freya—not with shock, but with a growing frustration that tightened her voice.

"… You really think he'd fall for that?" She asked sharply, "

There was no disbelief in her tone. Freya's words might have sounded like seduction—a goddess laying herself bare—but Hestia saw the truth beneath the surface. It wasn't love. It wasn't loyalty. It was an empty promise dressed in silk. A gamble made with nothing but bravado.

it wasn't about them not believing him, as they can detect the lies; the problem is proving it.

She turned toward Luther, eyes narrowing as she watched him in thought. Her voice softened, almost hesitant.

"…Are you actually considering it?" she asked. "With your skills, I think you should be better goddesses for you."

Freya's lips twitched.

Better?

For a heartbeat, her serene mask faltered. Better than ? Was there a goddess more radiant? More worshipped? More feared? The insult simred beneath her calm exterior, but before she could speak—

Luther exhaled. Slowly. A faint chanical hiss followed, carried by the ambient hum of servos and the drifting motes of forge ash.

He raised a hand and pointed toward the doorway, where morning light filtered in, outlining the silhouette of the towering dreadnought.

His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was absolute.

"Look outside. That machin"e…

He turned to face them fully, the crimson lens of his mask gleaming as it settled on Freya.

"Piloted by the right person, it could defeat a Level 8 adventurer with a single blow. Might even able to fight black dragon And this isn't even the strongest thing I can create."

He paused.

"This should be enough proof. So tell —are you ready to offer yourself?"

Freya's expression shifted, her posture stiffening. Her casual words had been answered too seriously, too quickly. She wasn't ready for how real it suddenly felt.

But she wouldn't retreat; she couldn't give up on herself right now.

Across the room, Hephaestus silently observed. Her thoughts spiraled. If word of this spread, Freya's Familia would go berserk, including the other gods—especially the unhinged ones— Her eye twitched. While hoping this won't beco another problem.

Finally, Freya spoke.

"You know," she muttered to Luther, "I never watched you make that thing." She crossed her arms, her voice asured. "So let's make this simple. I'll visit from ti to ti. I'll help, and—if you can impress —we can build a relationship."

Luther glanced at Freya, her expression unreadable behind his mask. He wasn't thinking of romantic conquests. That had never been the point.

The request he had made—Are you ready to offer yourself?—wasn't only about desire. It was about research.

And now, he had two gods at his side… Each is useful, each powerful in their own right.

He turned back to Hephaestus, speaking plainly.

"Hephaestus—I can restrict sales of long-range weapons," he said.

Then, evenly, he added his condition.

"But in exchange, I want all of your knowledge."

He didn't wait for her reaction. His gaze shifted to Freya.

"If you want to be part of my bigger plans," he said, stepping closer—close enough that only inches separated them, close enough to kiss.

His voice dropped.

"Then prove you won't betray and give your blood. For research."

Hestia raised a single eyebrow, her expression caught between disbelief and exasperation.

"…What's with the blood?" she muttered, folding her arms.

Freya stepped forward, closing the space between her and Luther with grace. Her hands rose slowly, curling around him with deliberate, practiced seduction. One hand traced along the edge of his shoulder, while the other ca to rest gently—almost reverently—against the cold surface of his face.

"Let's forget about the blood," she whispered, her voice low and silken. "And do sothing more… interesting."

Her fingers slid along the edge of the mask, seeking a seam, a latch, anything. Her touch was teasing, as she tried to coax it away from his face while making a gesture as if to kiss him.

But it didn't budge. Like a second skin, the mask held firm—seamless. Freya's sensual charm might sway mortals, but this piece was built For survival. If anyone could remove it easily, then what was the point of wearing it?

Her fingers paused. She tried again—more firmly this ti. Nothing.

A flicker of frustration touched her gaze. Then amusent.

"Hmm," she murmured, almost playfully. "Don't tell this is your face."

Luther's voice was steady, emotionless—but there was the faintest edge of coldness beneath it.

"It is not designed to co off on a whim," he said. "Especially not in front of you."

The mont lingered—Freya's hand still on his mask, her other arm draped lightly against his fra.

Behind them, Hestia clicked her tongue, unimpressed.

"Of course it wouldn't co off," she muttered. "He probably sleeps in that thing."

Hephaestus let out a breath, half a sigh, half a groan. This was a truly unusual day for her. At least she could restrict sales of guns in exchange for knowledge. Now the only problem left was to talk about resources.

While freya withdrew her hand with a graceful shrug, her smile never faltered. She stepped back, her voice still sultry.

"Can't you trust a little bit?"

Luther didn't respond. He had no need to. By the standards of the Adeptus chanicus—who might see a living god as nothing more than a rare specin to study—his request was generous. All he wanted was a few drops of her blood.