[Location: Empire State Building, New York]

As if on cue, the alpha groaned weakly.

Valeria winked. "See? Totally fine."

The alpha wheezed, his legs twitching like a dying cockroach pinned to a wall.

The remaining werewolves stared at Valeria.

Then at the crater.

Then back at Valeria.

Every single one of them collectively came to the same conclusion:

They had severely miscalculated.

Ezravia lifted a finger.

A single, elegant gesture.

A violet barrier snapped into existence around them—thin, transparent, and nearly invisible unless one knew where to look. Soundproofing, mana suppression, camera distortion, and visual blur. A multi-layered concealment dome.

"Damage control," she said calmly. "You already caused a spectacle."

Valeria scoffed. "Ezra, please. New York sees stranger things than this every day. A pink explosion is nothing compared to whatever Wall Street does."

"That is not comforting," Ezravia muttered.

Meanwhile, Ravvy crouched beside the groaning alpha werewolf, poking his busted ribs with the end of her straw.

"H-He's really not dead, right?" she whispered anxiously.

The alpha opened his mouth—

"Gghrr… you— hack —demon sh—"

Sluuuurp—

Ravvy reflexively sipped her milkshake, but while trying to get up, Alpha's tail flicked and—

Thud!

Ravvy froze.

Her eyes slowly… slowly… drifted downward.

Her cup…

Her sacred, holy, blessed-by-the-dairy-goddess MILKSHAKE…

Lay on the pavement.

Spilled.

Dead.

A tragic milk puddle was spreading across the cracked concrete like the aftermath of a dairy-themed homicide.

Valeria inhaled sharply.

Ezravia immediately took one step back.

Even the werewolves stopped growling.

Everyone knew—

Ravvy NEVER drops her food.

Ravvy NEVER spills her drink.

If Ravvy loses food…

Something unholy is about to happen.

The black-haired girl stared at the fallen milkshake.

Her pupils dilated.

Her breath hitched.

Her aura—

shifted.

A strange, heavy pressure pulsed outward—not violent, not explosive, just… hungry.

A primal, bottomless void.

The werewolves stiffened, fur bristling.

"W-What is that aura?!" one of them whimpered.

Another yelped, "T-That's not Lust— that's not Envy— what Sin is that?!"

Ezravia's expression sharpened, recognising the flicker.

"Ravvy," she said carefully. "Breathe. In. Out."

Ravvy didn't respond.

She just stared at the milkshake corpse.

"…That was the last strawberry one…" she whispered.

Her voice trembled.

The ground trembled.

Valeria whispered urgently, "Ezra. She's going feral."

"I am aware."

"You need to do something!"

"I am thinking."

"Well, think faster—"

Ravvy's head slowly turned toward the alpha werewolf.

The alpha, who had just regained consciousness, met her gaze.

And froze.

She looked like a kicked puppy.

A trembling, teary-eyed, adorable puppy.

But her aura said:

Someone must die.

Ravvy's lower lip wobbled.

"You… killed my milkshake…"

The alpha panicked, scrambling backwards on all fours.

"W-Wait! It was an accident! I didn't— your foot— it slipped— I didn't do—"

Ravvy stood.

Still trembling.

Still heartbroken.

Still adorable.

But her shadow stretched unnaturally behind her—like a massive maw yawning open.

Valeria whispered, "Oh gods, even Regalia wouldn't get between her and a dropped snack."

Ezravia flicked her wrist, preparing a restraining sigil. "If she enters Gluttony Overdrive, she'll eat through the street, the wolves, the sewer pipes, and possibly New Jersey."

Valeria hissed. "STOP DESCRIBING THAT LIKE IT'S NORMAL."

But it was too late.

The alpha wolf tried to stand.

Ravvy took one small step forward.

The entire pack instinctively took one large step back.

Her voice came out tiny… trembling… absolutely devastated.

"…My milkshake…"

The alpha raised both clawed hands in a gesture of surrender. "L-Look, kid, we can get you another one—"

"You. Can't."

Ravvy's aura pulsed again — a quiet, rumbling, inhuman hunger that rolled across the air like a starving beast exhaling through the cracks of a sealed tomb.

Ezravia clicked her tongue sharply.

"Valeria."

"I KNOW."

"You stop her."

"WHY ME?! YOU stop her!"

"You caused the conflict."

"The wolf knocked the shake!"

"Your pheromones destabilised the rift."

"NOT THE POINT, EZRA!"

The werewolves, meanwhile, whispered frantically among themselves:

"W-What Sin is she?!"She smells small, but the aura— the aura—"Alpha, give the order! Give ANY order!"

The alpha pointed a shaking claw."N-No sudden movements… S-She's just a kid, right? Right—?"

Ravvy's eyes lifted.

They glowed.

Not bright.

Not dramatic.

Just a soft, eerie, bottomless pinkish-red — like a dying ember in an endless pit.

She whispered:

"…Hungry."

The alpha fainted.

Just fainted.

Collapsed like a beached whale in denim shorts.

Valeria snapped her fingers. "Okay, that's it. Ravvy sweetie! Ravinia! Ravelline! RAVVY, BABY, LOOK AT ME."

Ravvy did not look at her.

Valeria gulped.

"Oh, we're screwed."

Ezravia stepped in next, placing two fingers together and drawing a sharp sigil in the air.

"Ravvy. Listen to me. Darling wouldn't recognise you if you became scary!"

Ravvy froze.

The word "Darling" hit her like a lightning bolt.

The trembling aura of world-ending hunger stopped mid-pulse.

Her head slowly… slowly… turned toward Ezravia.

"…D-Darling…?"

Ezravia nodded with mechanical stiffness, voice calm and clipped like she was trying not to wake a sleeping bomb.

"Yes. Dominic. Your fiancé. The one you want to impress. The one you want to see is you, cute. Not… ravenous."

Ravvy blinked.

Twice.

Her eyes lost a fraction of that abyssal glow.

Valeria jumped in instantly, voice high-pitched and desperate.

"Y-Yes! Ravvy! You can't—YOU MUSTN'T—let him see you like this! Imagine him walking in and you're… you're… drooling over wolves! That is NOT the first impression after a thousand years!"

Ravvy froze again.

The aura around her hiccuped.

"I… I don't want Dominic to think I'm… scary…"

She said it like a tiny child admitting she broke a vase.

Ezravia's shoulders relaxed exactly 2%.

But only 2%.

Because Ravvy suddenly clenched her fists and looked at the milk puddle again, eyes wobbling.

"B-But… my shake…"

Valeria immediately grabbed Ravvy's cheeks and smooshed them gently.

"LISTEN TO ME, PRINCESS OF GLUTTONY—WE WILL BUY YOU TEN SHAKES. TEN! ANY FLAVOR. EVEN THE WEIRD MATCHA ONE YOU LIKE. BUT YOU HAVE TO CALM DOWN."

Ravvy's lips squished together cutely. "T… Ten?"

"TEN."

Ezravia added quietly, "Twenty if you stop glowing like a demonised black hole."

Ravvy inhaled sharply.

Her aura went pop — literally — like someone snapping a gum bubble.

The oppressive hunger vanished.

The air cleared.

And Ravvy shrank into herself again, cheeks puffed out, eyes watery.

"…I want twenty."

Ezravia nodded. "Done."

Valeria groaned. "Ezra, she's gonna drink us into bankruptcy—"

Ezravia deadpanned, "We don't pay for things."

"Oh. Right." Valeria brightened. "Twenty it is!"

The werewolves, meanwhile, were traumatised.

One whispered shakily:

"W-Was she about to eat our souls?"

Another replied:

"No… I think… I think she was about to eat the entire block."

A third whimpered:

"Why is Gluttony the SCARIEST one?!"

The alpha lay face-first on the pavement, mumbling:

"Milkshake demon… milkshake demon…"

Valeria clapped her hands. "Okay! FUN TIMES OVER. Now—"

She turned toward the pack.

Her aura flared again, but this time with smug supremacy, not nuclear lust.

"Let's talk, doggies."

Ezravia sighed. "Do NOT antagon—"

"Too late, already antagonising," Valeria sang.

The pack growled weakly.

Half-hearted.

Terrified.

The alpha shakily pushed himself upright using the bent streetlight like a walker.

He pointed at them with a trembling claw.

"Y-You… you three are… monsters…"

Valeria beamed. "Thank you! I moisturise."

The alpha swallowed hard, then looked at Ezravia—the only one who radiated something resembling sanity.

"You… You three cannot be here."

Ezravia raised a brow. "We are already here."

"No—listen— the Elder Council...has forbidden foreign demonic entities from entering New York's boundaries," the alpha wheezed. "Especially— especially high-rank ones."

Valeria blinked once.

Then twice.

Ezravia's eyes narrowed just a fraction — the kind of micro-expression only someone who had known her for a millennia could read.

"Ahem! If I remember correctly," she said coolly, "the overseer of this city is the Greek Pantheon."

Valeria snapped her fingers. "Right! Zeus's little mortals are the landlords of Manhattan, aren't they?"

Ravvy raised her hand timidly. "And… u-um… the werewolves work with the Greeks, right…?"

The alpha wolf tensed.

Several of the wolves behind him stiffened as well — some in indignation, some in fear.

Ezravia continued, dry as ancient parchment:

"According to the Accords of 783, Sector NY-01 is under Olympus jurisdiction. Which means—"

Valeria leaned forward eagerly. "—which means these mutts are basically Greek hall monitors!"

One of the werewolves snarled. "We are NOT hall monitors!"

Another added, "We are an independent warrior clan!"

A third piped up, "We do NOT work for Zeus!"

The alpha slapped the third on the head. "Stop saying that out loud! There are cameras!"

Ezravia lifted a brow. "So you do operate under Olympus enforcement."

"No!"Yes!"Kind of!"We pay taxes!"

The werewolves started arguing among themselves.

Valeria made a face. "They pay taxes? Ew. Imagine paying taxes."

Ravvy whispered, "W-We don't pay taxes… right?"

Ezravia patted her gently. "Darling, we're demons. Taxes fear us."

Ravvy exhaled in relief.

The alpha finally barked to silence his pack, then turned back to the demonesses.

"Regardless of jurisdiction — YOU THREE are violating the Olympus-Demonic Transit Treaty! The Elder Council has decreed that no high-ranking Hell nobility may cross into this city without notice!"

Ezravia blinked calmly. "That treaty dissolved 900 years ago."

The alpha hesitated.

"…It did?"

"Yes. Your council forgot to file the renewal with the Netherworld Office."

The pack blinked.

Valeria made a dramatic gasp. "WAIT—WAIT—WAIT. Are you telling me—"

She leaned toward the werewolves, eyes wide with judgmental delight.

"—that Olympus is using an EXPIRED TREATY to boss you around?"

A long, painful silence.

Then—

One werewolf whimpered: "I KNEW IT. I TOLD YOU IT WAS EXPIRED."

Another cursed: "Elder Brontes lies to us AGAIN!"

A third looked emotionally betrayed: "I paid taxes for NOTHING?!"

Ezravia added calmly, "Also, the Accords never applied to demonic royalty. Only to unregistered devils and void-beasts."

Valeria pointed at herself and smirked. "Royalty."

Then she pointed at Ezravia. "Royalty."

Then at Ravvy — who was still wiping milkshake tears. "Royalty."

Ravvy sniffled. "P-Please don't yell…"

The alpha's ears flattened.

"W-Wait… so… you're saying… we actually have no legal authority to detain you?"

Ezravia folded her arms. "Correct."

The alpha stared into the distance, like a man questioning every life choice that brought him here.

One of the younger wolves muttered: "We're going to get sued, aren't we…"

Another whispered, "We shouldn't have crawled out of the sewer. We should have STAYED in the sewer."

Finally, the alpha straightened, cleared his throat, and said in the most forced, authoritative voice he could muster:

"T-Then regardless of legality… we still won't let you wander around freely. The Elder Council demands you come meet them at once!"

Valeria blinked.

Then burst out laughing.

"Ooohhh— sweet puppy. You think we take orders from your Elder?"

Her aura flicked again, pink lightning crackling in the air.

Ezravia stepped in before Valeria escalated the situation into a glitter-coated massacre.

"We do not have time for irrelevant detours."

Ravvy nodded timidly. "W-We need to find Dominic…"

The wolves stiffened again.

"The Lucifer Heir is here?" the alpha whispered sharply.

Valeria's expression sharpened. "Maaayyyybe."

Ezravia clarified flatly: "No comment."

Ravvy mumbled, "I-I hope he didn't see me almost… eat things…"

The werewolves exchanged looks of absolute horror.

The alpha swallowed.

Then he raised both hands again.

"A-Alright. New approach. If you refuse to come with us to the Elder Council willingly… then we will have to escalate this to the Wet Dog's Elderly!"

Valeria blinked. Ezravia blinked. Ravvy blinked.

"…What?" they said in unison.

The alpha puffed up his chest, as if invoking something sacred.

"The Wet Dog's Elderly!"

Silence.

Valeria tilted her head. "Is that… a title?"

Ezravia frowned. "Is that meant to sound threatening?"

Ravvy whispered, "I… I think it sounds cute…"

The alpha growled. "It is NOT cute. It is the highest authority of our clan!"

Ezravia stared. "…And his name is 'Wet Dog's Elderly'?"

"No!" the alpha barked. "That's just the translation!"

Valeria's grin widened. "So what's the original?"

The alpha straightened proudly.

"Our Elder's true name is—"

He inhaled deeply.

"BARKIMEDES."

Silence.

A long, painful silence.

Then—

Valeria collapsed laughing.

Ezravia looked personally offended.

Ravvy looked like she wasn't sure whether to giggle or pat the alpha sympathetically.

Valeria was wheezing. "B-Bark… Barkimedes—?! That sounds like a golden retriever philosopher!"

The alpha snarled. "HE IS A GREAT SCHOLAR!"

Ezravia pinched her nose.

"Of course. The Wet Dog's Elderly… Barkimedes."

Ravvy whispered, "D-Does he… um… smell nice…?"

"No," the alpha snapped. "He does not. He smells like wisdom and wet fur."

Valeria laughed harder. "OH NO, THAT'S WORSE."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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