"Oh, you need to pick up the pace, my Lord."
It was as if someone whispered maliciously into his ear. Solomon's eyes snapped open. The Sacred Seal activated instantly, and his muscles tightened, ready to unleash fury on any perceived threat. But the moment he fully awoke, the tension melted away.
He was safe.
Solomon exhaled the warm, humid breath of a sleeper suddenly disturbed and slowly got out of bed. He walked into the living room to check the protective wards he'd cast over the apartment. Behind him, Bayonetta stirred awake, her senses sharp enough to detect Solomon's sudden physical reaction.
The insane laughter from his dream still echoed faintly in his ears. Shaking his head to dispel the lingering dizziness, Solomon tried to distinguish the remnants of the nightmare from reality.
The Cheshire Cat, sprawled atop the liquor cabinet, opened one eye lazily to glance at him. Then it yawned and promptly resumed its nap, unconcerned.
"Maybe it's just the stress," Solomon thought, trying to reassure himself. All the projects underway in the Immortal City were progressing steadily. His army's first target, the First Demon Pillar Baal, loomed as the next great hurdle. Dreaming about this rebellious Hell Lord was to be expected.
According to the Ancient One, the blood wars of the Lower Planes had reignited. The Demon Pillars, who once served King Solomon, were now divided and at each other's throats. If Solomon wanted to defeat the First Demon Pillar, he'd have to rely on Phoenix to re-establish ties with the other pillars.
The Ancient One considered this a minor challenge, but to Solomon, it was a monumental task. Unlike the cooperative Phoenix, most Demon Pillars were not likely to be so accommodating. Friendly pillars like the 35th Demon Lord Marchosias and the 41st Demon Lord Focalor were exceptions. These few had expressed their willingness to extend their ancient loyalty through Phoenix's mediation.
However, even their combined might couldn't rival the First Demon Pillar. Baal's rank and power, once equivalent to the god Marduk, dwarfed them all. Moreover, no pillar would be allowed into the Material Plane without the Ancient One's explicit approval—a privilege even Phoenix had to fight for.
"Where are you going?"
Bayonetta emerged from the bedroom in a barely-there nightgown, rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she saw Solomon, the breakfast table was already set, and the artificial maid was busy preparing the ingredients for lunch.
Yesterday, the maid had spent twelve hours slow-cooking a pot of beef bone broth. Today's main dish would be a combination of seasoned rice and quail. The plan was to stuff the quail with the flavorful rice, pour hot oil over it to crisp the skin, and then bake it to perfection. With the maid's precise touch, the dish would balance the rich flavors of French-style crispy quail with the hearty depth of Spanish beef-broth rice.
The maid's passion for French cuisine was evident. With Solomon's hectic schedule, the witches had grown accustomed to these gourmet meals. While Solomon's cooking leaned toward rustic simplicity, the maid's dishes were as visually stunning as they were delicious, catering perfectly to the witches' taste for luxury.
For breakfast, the maid favored sweet flavors: thin pancakes drizzled with ruby chocolate syrup or cranberry jam, accompanied by a cup of steaming rose tea or sweet red tea. A final touch was a small bowl of cream-based ice cream topped with dried fruits—an ideal start to the day.
Although Solomon wanted to enjoy the meal, he ate only a few bites before donning his Holy Relic robes, grabbing his wand and twin blades, and looking every bit like someone heading into battle.
Bayonetta, still half-asleep, dragged Jeanne from the bedroom. Noticing Solomon's readiness to leave, she tugged him back to the table.
"You need to sit down and eat properly, Boya. There's no need to rush, no matter where you're going," she said, her tone lazily affectionate.
As Solomon's schedule had become increasingly packed with preparations for the upcoming school term, Bayonetta had noticed his frequent early departures and late returns. Though she trusted him implicitly, her playful teasing about his long hours—interspersed with vague threats involving a whip—hinted at her impatience.
Bayonetta didn't press Solomon about his plans. She had learned through her summoned demons that the Lower Planes were in turmoil, and she suspected this was connected to Solomon's recent tension. She wanted him to confide in her.
Home was meant to be a place of relaxation, and Bayonetta refused to let Solomon bring his burdens into their shared space.
"Great Odin."
Solomon gave a slight bow to the All-Father, who was feeding two massive wolves when he arrived.
After a somewhat heated discussion with Bayonetta, the witches had agreed to take on missions from Kamar-Taj, targeting extradimensional entities. This arrangement allowed the witches to join Earth's defensive efforts and share Solomon's burden.
Initially, Solomon was reluctant, but Bayonetta's gentle persistence wore down his resistance. Even the Ancient One supported the decision, noting that leaving witches idle was a waste of their potential. They were best suited for the battlefield.
Odin glanced at Solomon but said nothing, focusing on his wolves.
Fortunately, Queen Frigga came to Solomon's rescue, pulling him into the house.
"He's sulking," she said with a smirk, offering Solomon a piece of smoked salmon. "He thinks your rejection made him lose face. Honestly, the man's retired, but he still acts like the All-Father!"
"If there's something you need, just tell me. I'll make sure that stubborn old man listens."
Solomon hesitated briefly before eating the offered salmon. Frigga's gaze softened as she watched him, encouraging him to explain his purpose.
"It's like this, Your Majesty..."
Solomon wanted a decree from the All-Father granting him access to a small supply of Uru metal from Nidavellir to forge armor for his future army—not the synthetic soldiers, but the elite warriors enhanced through genetic modification. Only the best among them would earn the privilege of wearing this special armor.
Since the dwarves of Nidavellir were the only ones capable of forging Uru metal, Solomon would also need their assistance in shaping the armor. Uru required unimaginable heat and specific enchantments to be forged properly. Even if Solomon acquired the metal, he'd still have to convince the dwarven craftsmen to help.
His request was modest compared to the resources used to forge Mjölnir, Thor's hammer. That legendary weapon had consumed an extraordinary amount of Uru and the power of a dying star.
As for his bargaining chip? Solomon thought of Thor and Hela.
Every family has its squabbles, after all.
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