The Day a God Chose Her

And just like that, they were back.

Aren's apartment—dim, slightly cluttered, still holding the echo of chaos—now played host to another kind of storm. Raven was once again pacing across the living room, a flurry of anxious energy that practically radiated off her in waves.

Aren, on the other hand, sat cross-legged on the floor, his back leaned lazily against the couch as he watched her spiral with detached interest. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between mild amusement and philosophical resignation.

Raven's face was a picture of disbelief and fury as she circled the battered coffee table like a panicked hawk in a cage.

"Why!?" she snapped, arms thrown up in exasperation. "Why did you do that!?"

It was the third time she'd asked the question. The third time she'd worn the same rut into the carpet. And yet it still burned.

She circled the table again like a broken record with emotional spikes.

"It's only been a few hours, for god's sake!" she wailed, her voice cracking under the strain. "Yet so much has happened, it feels like months passed!"

With an agitated huff, she snatched the remote and turned on the TV—its screen spiderwebbed with cracks from a previous scuffle. The distorted screen flickered to life, glitchy and fractured, as it tuned into the latest broadcast.

And the first thing that greeted her?

Her face.

On-screen was a freeze-frame of the kiss. Her lips on Aren's, eyes wide in shock, the café lights painting them in surreal romance. Overlaid with colorful graphics, loud text, and shrill commentary from the same obnoxious streamer who'd gone viral earlier that day.

She stared, mouth open in horror.

"Oh no…" she whispered, dead inside.

Her name trended globally. Her face was everywhere. Every network, every drone feed, every streamer was covering it like it was world-ending news. And all the while, the actual brawl between two elite hunters was reduced to nothing more than a sliding ticker at the bottom of the screen.

"...Massive property damage and civilian casualties in Sector Nine…"

"...but more importantly, who is Raven's mystery boyfriend?!"

She blinked, stunned.

"I have to be dreaming, right!?" she screamed suddenly, clutching at her hair in disbelief. "My life is ruined! Completely and utterly ruined!"

From the apartment next door, a now-familiar voice responded to her outburst with a resounding:

THUD!

"SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!" the neighbor bellowed through the wall, his voice hoarse and furious, slightly muffled by layers of cheap insulation.

Raven's eye twitched.

She snapped.

She stormed over and slammed her fist against the wall in retaliation.

"GET A JOB INSTEAD OF BEING AN INSUFFERABLE SHUT-IN!" she screamed back with the rage of a woman who had officially reached her breaking point.

She didn't even know the guy.

Didn't matter.

She just had enough.

Behind her, Aren chuckled, slow and amused, clapping softly like he was at an avant-garde theater show.

"This is quite entertaining to watch," he said, clearly unbothered by the emotional meltdown unfolding before him.

Raven's head whipped around, her eyes blazing.

"And you! You're the most socially inept person I've ever met!" she shouted, pointing at him like she was accusing him of war crimes.

"We've had this talk—three times! Three!" she cried, the sound turning into a frustrated wail as she collapsed to her knees in front of him, finally out of steam.

Aren kept laughing, though a flicker of something stirred behind his eyes—something heavier. A pang of guilt, faint but growing. He wasn't supposed to care. On the cosmic scale, this drama meant nothing. But this body… this mind… the biological remnants of the human it once belonged to—they were traitorous.

And for once, he did feel bad.

Bad for wrecking someone's public image in one fell kiss.

Aren sighed, softly.

'Law… you're watching me fail quite terribly, aren't you?'

He thought silently, addressing the timeless observer—his bored father figure, or at least tired godly companion. From that plane outside of time and space.

Aren leaned forward slightly, reaching out—and wrapped his arms around Raven without hesitation.

Her body stiffened, mid-sob, as he pulled her close again. A faint chuckle rumbled in his chest as he held her.

"I'll make it better. Don't worry," he said softly, his voice an odd mix of amusement and something almost—almost—gentle.

Raven buried her face in his chest, muffling another cry.

"What in the world are you supposed to do…?" she mumbled, defeated.

To her, they were empty words.

Just noise from an E-Rank nobody. Someone with no influence, no following, no recognition. A man who had arrived from obscurity and detonated her public life in the span of one single afternoon.

But what Raven didn't realize—

Was that one of the strongest entities in the multiverse had just vowed, with absolute sincerity, to fix her life.

And unlike most promises…

His weren't bound by human limitation.

"I'll take our deal seriously," Aren said, pulling back slightly. He looked down at her—her face flushed, either from rage, shame, or emotional exhaustion. Possibly all three.

"I'll become your partner and make you the greatest hunter in existence, or whatever." He flashed her a half-grin, both lazy and strangely reassuring.

Raven sniffled, wiping the mess from her face, and grabbed him by the shoulders to steady herself.

Then she laughed.

A small, cracked, slightly manic laugh that sent a shiver down Aren's spine.

"That's a promise," she said, her tone suddenly colder, quieter—scarier.

Her earlier panic was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it had a direction. A razor's edge.

Because really…

If a near-immortal being who could regenerate from total obliteration swore on a whim to become your partner and fix your life—

Wouldn't you start to feel a little bit better?