Harem God- Dimensional Motel System-Chapter 38: Interactions With the Locals 16

Luck was already writing his own obituary in his head when her eyes flickered, as if some private calculation had just concluded.

"You are not worthy of that weapon," she said, not as a question but as a verdict.

She raised her arm lazily, and purple flame smoked up from her palm. "Nor the power it contains."

Luck already knew she wasn’t about to use it for show—he ducked left on pure reflex, sprinting for the courtyard.

The inferno howled upward, so hot it singed the damp hairs on his arm and baked the resin off a nearby railing. He could see, now, the pattern: every time she conjured her power, the temperature spiked, just a little before the blast.

’I need to draw her away from the motel.’

The structure itself was older than most ruins, the kind of place you could torch and the black mold would only get stronger.

Still, he didn’t want to make the insurance claim more complicated than it already would be

He zigzagged, always staying a step ahead of her line of sight. With each attack, the air thickened with ozone and the bitter scent of roasted grass.

Luck lobbed a smoke bomb. It popped and blanketed the area with a chemical fog so dense it choked out the color from the world.

She paused, momentarily blinded by the sudden whiteout. Luck fired again.

The shot hit, punching into her other shoulder with a wet sound.

Blood spritzed onto the ground, and she recoiled, arm spasming. She could only catch things she saw coming.

Luck grinned in spite of his terror.

"You know," he called out, "for someone with all the cheat codes, your reaction time is garbage."

That was a bad move.

Seconds later, the smoke got blasted away, her aura surged, and bolts of lightning started dancing across the sky.

Luck tilted his head. "So that’s how it is. Good. I was getting bored."

He pulled an object from his pocket, and a song started playing from his phone.

"Duuun... duuun... duh-duh-duuun... DUH-DUN!"

A deep choir followed—

"DOVAHKIIN, DOVAHKIIN, NAAL OK ZIN LOS VAHRIIN..."

She froze, one foot still in the air, thrown off by the sudden, epic chanting.

Luck grinned. "Yeah. Now it’s a boss fight. When the tone reaches it’s peak you will ceased to exist!"

The effect was instant.

Her lips parted, confusion warring with indignation as the foreign music thundered through the courtyard, echoing off cracked stone and brittle air.

The spectral lightning that had gathered around her wrists fizzled, pausing mid-leap as if bound by the guttural, ancient words.

Luck was panting, barely holding the gun steady.

He could see it in her face: not confusion, exactly, but awe. This was technology utterly alien to this world—his trump card, the one thing even a magical witch couldn’t instantly analyze and counter.

The moment stretched, the music building.

"...what manner of artifact is that?" Her voice, for the first time, fizzed. It echoed out, uncertain whether to strike or cower.

’Did it work?’ He didn’t know if his bluff would last, but she wasn’t sending pillar of lightning, and that was a win.

"This," he declared, voice cracking once for dramatic effect, "is the Voice of the Eldest. The echo of the gods themselves. I wouldn’t get too close unless you want to meet your maker early, lady."

He had no fucking clue if she understood even one word, but the hesitation in her stance told him she got the intent.

She regarded him with a gaze no less deadly for its composure, but the violence in her aura was no longer a flood, but a warning.

The scorched grass smoked between them.

Luck wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Look, I’m not here to start a war. We’re both reasonable people. Why don’t we talk this out like, you know, adults?"

She blinked once, hard, as though the suggestion itself was so alien it required a full mind reset.

He pressed. "You ever see anything like this?" He waggled the phone, letting the screen show, then the golden pistol.

She stared at the screen, as if it might bite her. For a moment she looked like a mortal—lost, searching for a logic or spell that could interpret what she was seeing.

"Magic of resonance?" she guessed, eyes flickering from the phone to his face and back. "Or perhaps a soul-bound sorcery."

Luck couldn’t help himself. He gave her a slow, patronizing clap.

"Bravo. You’re the first person in this world to even get that close. You know, most witches I’ve met just try to eat it or set it on fire."

She glanced at the phone, then at the gun. "You wield two unique artifacts, both without origin. How?"

"You’re a smart woman—how about you take a wild guess? Ever heard of the concept of... alternate world?"

She stared at him, violet eyes narrowing into a calculus of wariness. "You speak in foreign riddles."

"Yeah, that’s my brand. Here, let me make it simple. You’re probably the most dangerous and intelligent person on this world, right? I mean, I haven’t met them all, but I have a sixth sense for these things."

She frowned, annoyed but not entirely displeased by the praise. "If you truly believe that, why engage in pointless theatrics? Why not kneel?"

"Because you’re only the strongest in this world, while I’m probably the strongest in several," he lied through his teeth. Classic fake-it-till-you-make-it move.

That caught her attention.

"Go on, if you’re that powerful—why not kill me right now?"

Luck shook his head.

"Tsk tsk, I’m not a killer. I’m a businessman. A trader, actually. And now that you’ve proven yourself, I’m offering you exclusive trading rights. That’s right—you can get items from other worlds... for the right price."

He let the silence hang, counting off the seconds. If she hesitated, even for a heartbeat, it meant she wanted something, and need was the mother of all bad decisions.

Her eyes moved, not just left-right but up-down, mapping every possible vector for threat.

"You presume I am easily impressed by simple tricks," she said at last, voice tight. "But even in your words I sense a kind of truth. You are not like any others I have encountered. Not of those arrogant wizards. Not even one of the elves’ hidden hounds."

Luck seized the hesitation.

"That’s right. So, do you wanna trade or do you wanna keep burning holes in my courtyard? Or—" he held up the phone, flicked his thumb, and it warbled another instant of strange, digital music,

"—should I play the next track and see what random god gets summoned?"

The silence dragged. Any second now—she would either gut him or take the bait.

"How does this trade work?" She didn’t step closer, but she also didn’t blast him. "Is it a blood contract, or do you rely on more advance methods?"

Luck grinned. "I take gold coins, treasure, or rare items."

"That straightforward?" she asked.

"Of course not. The more powerful and rarer the item you want, the higher the price—and sometimes, the cost comes in the form of a favor..."

"What kind of favor?" Her gaze sharpened, suspicious.freёwebnoѵel.com