Sol sat there, his mind reeling from the cosmology lesson. The universe was an onion of infinite complexity, filled with Titans, Dragons, and nightmare insects. Knowing the map was great; it gave him perspective. But perspective didn't stop a spear. Perspective didn't kill a titan.

He needed a car. He needed weapons. He needed something tangible.

"That's great," Sol said, standing up and brushing the ancient dust from his shimmering celestial tunic. "Titans, elves, dragons. Very cool and all, truly fascinating. But knowing about a dragon's library doesn't help me kill one. And knowing about the Elemental Realms doesn't stop a spear."

He stepped closer to the dais, looking down at the chibi goddess.

"What about Divine Skills?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with greed. "You're a Primordial Goddess. The Weaver of Nebulae. Teach me a spell that can flatten a mountain with a word. Or a technique to stop time. Don't worry, I'm a fast learner. I have a high comprehension stat... probably."

Isylia cracked one eye open. She looked at him, blinked once, and then let out a sharp, derisive laugh that echoed like breaking glass.

"Divine Skills?" she giggled, holding her stomach as if she had heard the funniest joke in an eon. "You? A mud-born?"

"Why not?" Sol crossed his arms.

"You mortals can't practice Divine Skills," she said, shaking her head, her tone shifting to one of pitying explanation, like a physicist explaining quantum mechanics to a golden retriever. "First of all, you can't even read the script… it will literally burn your eyes. You can't understand the concepts… they will melt your tiny brains. But let's suppose, in some fever dream, that you could learn the movements..."

She poked him in the chest.

"They require Divine Power. If you tried to channel a Divine Skill, your body would turn to ash and your soul would evaporate before you even finished the first syllable."

She looked at his drooping face and smirked.

"It's like trying to pour the ocean through a tip of a needle, little bug. You don't have the hardware. You would literally explode."

Sol frowned. "Okay, fine. No god-tier nukes. I like my soul where it is. Then what about Mortal Skills? You've been around since the 'beginning of time.' You must have watched civilizations rise and fall. You must know some legendary sword styles? Or ancient breathing techniques? Or... I don't know, 'The Nine-Step Void Walk'?"

Isylia yawned, picking a speck of lint from her shimmering dress with exaggerated boredom. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Sol asked, incredulous.

"It has been so long," she sighed, waving a hand vaguely. "I forgot. Do you remember how many times you blinked yesterday? Do you remember the specific crawling pattern of the ants you stepped on? Mortal techniques are... beneath notice. They are fleeting scratches in the dirt. Why would I memorize the flailing of insects?"

Sol stared at her. She was useless. She was a library with all the pages glued together. She was a supercomputer that only played solitaire.

"So," Sol said slowly, his voice dripping with skepticism. "You can't give me Divine Skills because I'll explode. You can't give me Mortal Skills because you have amnesia."

He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, his patience wearing thin.

"Then what about some special power? Don't tell me you are so useless that you don't even have some special power you can share? Are you a Goddess or just a very tall, very sleepy glow-stick?"

The air in the temple dropped ten degrees. Frost began to creep across the obsidian floor.

Isylia's eyes snapped open. The solar flares in her irises spun violently, turning from warm orange to a blinding, angry white. She stood up… all five feet five inches of her… and radiated an aura that seemed to make the stone beneath Sol's feet crack.

"Useless?!" she shrieked, her voice echoing with the distortion of true power, shaking the dust from the pillars. "You dare call Me useless? I am Isylia! I spun the currency of the stars! I negotiated the truce between Light and Dark!"

She pointed a finger at him, trembling with indignation.

"Of course I have special power! I have a Law! I am the Goddess of Exchange! The Arbiter of Value! The Merchant of Fate!"

"Exchange?" Sol asked, unimpressed, leaning back slightly to avoid her finger. "What does that mean? You're good at math?"

"It means," Isylia hissed, floating down from the dais to hover right in front of his face, her hair drifting around her like a halo of anger, "that I can weigh the value of anything in existence. And I can trade it. I can take the strength of a mountain and trade it for the speed of a wind. I can take the luck of a king and trade it for the life of a beggar. Equivalent Exchange is the fundamental law of the universe, and I am its Banker."

She circled him, her eyes glowing, her voice filled with the pride of her station.

"I can refine energy. I can rewrite attributes. I can trade your weakness for strength!"

"Great," Sol said, extending his hand. "Do it. Give me strength."

Isylia paused. She landed back on the dais, her aura dimming slightly. She looked away, biting her lip.

"But... that power is my unique Authority," she muttered. "It's not something I can share easily. And even if I wanted to... my hands are tied. This realm suppresses me. My body is drained of divine power. I can't activate the Law without a source."

She looked at him, a glint of cunning entering her eyes.

"If you open the door of this realm," she whispered seductively, "if you free me... once I am outside, I will regain my connection to the cosmos. Then, I will give you the power you desire. I promise."

Sol stared at her. He let the silence stretch for a long, uncomfortable moment.

"Humph!" Sol snorted. "Do you really think I'm a five-year-old child? I know for a fact that the moment I free you, you'll turn me into mincemeat and fly away. You already tried to kill me once today. I don't give second chances to assassins."

Isylia stomped her foot. "I am a Goddess! My word is bond!"

"It may be, but I don't believe you, even a tiny bit. " Sol corrected. "And most importantly, I can't afford the risk."

He walked over to the throne and sat down on the bottom step, looking comfortable. He looked at the vast, empty void.

"But," Sol said, a dark idea forming in his mind. "Since you have been so generous, telling me all that cosmology stuff... I'll be generous too. I'm willing to negotiate."

Isylia perked up. "Negotiate? What do you want? Gold? Artifacts? I know where buried kingdoms lie."

Sol looked her up and down. He took in the ethereal beauty of her face, the perfect symmetry of her features, the curves that even the celestial peplos couldn't hide. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and likely would ever see.

"How about one sex session?" Sol asked, his voice casual. "I have always wanted to have a taste of a goddess."

Silence.

Absolute, like really absolute, vacuum silence filled the temple.

Isylia stared at him. Her brain seemed to short-circuit. She blinked once. Twice.

"What?" she finally uttered.

"You heard me," Sol said, leaning back on his elbows, looking at her with lecherous, unhidden hunger. "Sex. You and me. One time. That's the price for opening the door."

"Absolutely not!" Isylia screamed, her face turning a violent shade of crimson. "I am a Goddess! A Primordial! I won't do filthy things like that with a... a bug! It is blasphemy! It is insanity!"

"Okay then," Sol shrugged. "No problem."

He lay back on the stairs, closing his eyes and folding his hands behind his head.

"You are welcome to continue staying here for eternity. I have plenty of time. I'll just explore what this artifact really is, maybe figure out how to redecorate. You can watch me sleep. It'll be fun."

"Youuuuu!" Isylia exploded. "I have told you so much! I healed you! This is how you repay me? With extortion? With perversion?"

Sol opened one eye. "I have already been generous, Isylia. I settled on one session. If I were truly cruel, I could have demanded you be my sex slave for years. Or centuries."

He sat up, his expression hardening.

"And honestly, is it that big of a deal? You said it yourself… you live for eternity. What are a few minutes, or a few hours, of physical friction in exchange for your freedom? It's a transaction. Equivalent Exchange, right? Your body for your liberty."

Isylia gaped at him. She was exasperated. She was furious. She was... confused.

Logically, he was right. To an eternal being, a physical act with a mortal should be meaningless. A blink of an eye. A speck of dust.

But... but... having sex with a mortal?!

It was something simply unheard of since the beginning of time. Let alone having sex, it's already a miracle for a mortal to get a glimpse of a god without going blind or insane.

Gods had a natural attraction. Every law of creation was inscribed within their essence. Within their presence, the principles of existence were woven together in such harmony that mortals instinctively bowed in awe. It was a grandeur so vast, a beauty so absolute, that the human mind could only glimpse its edges without ever truly grasping it. Mortals worshipped them. They built temples. They sacrifice.

They did not ask to bed them.

Daring to have filthy thoughts towards a god was a blasphemy of a blasphemy. It was like a worm looking at the sun and thinking, 'I want to eat that.'

But this tiny human... this anomaly... instead of prostrating in front of her, was looking at her legs. He was negotiating with her virtue.

"This is ridiculous," Isylia hissed, pacing the dais. "You are ridiculous. I will vaporize you."

"Can't," Sol reminded her.

"I should curse your bloodline!"

"Don't have one yet. Working on it. Of course, if you want, we can create our own bloodline."He kindly suggested.

"You filthy thing."

Isylia stopped pacing. She looked at the exit… the swirling darkness that Sol controlled. She looked at the eternal emptiness of her prison. She had been here for thousands of years. Alone. Silent.

Then she looked at Sol. He was handsome, in a rugged, mortal way. His soul was strange, resilient. He had survived the touch of the artifact.

She bit her lip.

And finally spoke.

"Just... one time?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Sol's heart drummed violently against his ribs. He couldn't believe it was working. He was just taking his chance, but he really didn't expect it to work. Honestly, he had expected her to resist until her death and he would take some other power benefit and let her but, SHE HAD FUCKING AGREED!!!

"One time," he confirmed. "You satisfy me, and I open the door. You walk out free."

Isylia closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. She weighed the humiliation against the freedom. She weighed the blasphemy against the silence of the Void.

Equivalent Exchange.

She opened her eyes. They were cold, burning with a mix of shame and resolve.

"Fine," she spat the word out. "One time. But if you tell anyone... if you ever speak of this to a living soul... I will find a way to unmake you, restrictions or not."

Sol grinned. It was the grin of a man who had just pulled off the heist of the millennium, no, no it was more like a heist of an eternity.

"My lips are sealed," he hurriedly promised, trying to maintain his calm, then standing up and walking toward her. "Unless I'm using them on you."

Isylia shuddered, whether from disgust or other emotions, even she didn't know. She stood her ground as he approached, the mighty primordial goddess waiting for the mortal to claim his price.

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