Chapter Text
Rosie had been playing the Overlord game for quite a while. She knew the ins and outs, what was allowed, what wasn't, and what fell in that grey zone where one wasn't supposed to play but if you didn't call too much attention to it, you'd get a pass.
Deals with living human souls was strictly against the rules and even an inter-Ring law that had been put into place to placate Heaven in the peace treaties. If you were caught at it, you would find yourself put into slave labor in one of the Rings if you were lucky. Particularly heinous offenders would end up disappearing into the Sin of Sloth's personal labs as a test subject. If you were extremely unlucky…
The point was that what she was doing with answering summoning calls by living mortals was absolutely a capital offense that would have her wishing there was a way to kill Fallen if she was caught. Except she had something of an… arrangement with the ruling family of Hell. So long as she followed three rules, they helped keep her activities unnoticed by Heaven.
One, she had to pretend as though the Morningstars were completely unaware of her activities and that she was having to hide just as much as any other offender. This had the added benefit of increasing her standing as an Overlord because everyone believed she was managing to keep both the watchful eye of Heaven and the royal family from noticing.
Two, she could only answer calls from souls that were absolutely bound for Hell anyway. If there was even any inkling of doubt, she had to leave them alone.
Three, any omegas she caught had to be brought in for inspection. They were all drugged to keep them from knowing who was inspecting them. She didn't know exactly what criteria they were being assessed for, but it wasn't her place to ask. So far none had passed all the tests, however she had a feeling that this one might be different.
It had been quite a surprise to catch a summoning call from an omega with a soul dark enough that it made her mouth water. Rosie had been quick to answer before anyone else could sense it. Then that soul had died the very next day and it turned out he was a virgin to boot?! She knew she'd hit the jackpot when she saw those cute deer features and wide red eyes.
Omega hellborn were a rarity no matter the race and highly prized, courted and generally treated as treasured mates. Omega sinners were even more rare since their innate natures made it unlikely for them to live in a manner that would have them falling. Those unfortunate souls were valuable too, but most often as sex slaves since they were incapable of bearing children. The prettier the omega's soul-form, the more likely they were to find themselves caught and put up for auction.
Alastor was very pretty. Honestly, even as a beta woman, between his looks and his mellow earthy scent rather than the perfumey citrus or floral of most omegas, Rosie was half-tempted to keep him for herself for just a bit if the Morningstars didn't take him.
The new sinner looked up at her from where he'd landed, "Who are -"
"Welcome to Hell, darlin'!" She grinned as his eyes widened, clearly recognizing her voice, "Let's get to work on gettin' you all set to be the strongest sinner like you asked, then we'll start workin' on how your pretty self is gonna repay me, capishe?"
Alastor's cutie patootie ears fell back as he seemed to catch on that there was perhaps more to making deals with hellish powers than his silly human mind had realized. Wording was everything, and she'd been very vague on exactly how long she'd own his soul or what her favor would be. It was a standard tactic for her that generally worked. He'd be hers until she sold him to the highest bidder and that's how he would repay her for making him the strongest sinner! She doubted he'd really considered the idea that powerful sinners weren't the top of the totem pole here.
He was going to make a very fun and durable pet for some lucky alpha, yes indeed.