“So, if I understand right, you want advice on how to change mortals’ perception of you?” Victor asked the goddess Cybele, scribbling notes while they sat on fungi thrones around a mushroom table.

“Most mortals only remember me for the pleasure aspect of my portfolio,” the goddess complained, her face and body hidden beneath a white cowl. “I cannot shake the stereotype and it bothers me. The few times mortals acknowledge my focus on nature and forests, they only imagine wild orgies in the woods; even my early sponsorship of Mithras, when he was a mortal [Paladin], has been forgotten. I thought that as a professional prophet, you might have ideas to help my church’s reputation… perform better.”

“It is true that this stereotype is widespread,” Victor admitted, and it was the main reason he had even considered worshiping her in the first place.

As expected of Cybele, forests and natural locations made up most of her planar realm, with a strange focus on fungi. Victor found their current, grove-like location quite relaxing after the previous dimensions. Especially after visiting Deathjester’s realm in particular.

So many traps...

“Is something wrong?” Cybele asked, Victor shuddering as he remembered that prophet session. “Was that too much to swallow?”

“It was nothing,” the Vizier promised, adjusting his fungi throne. The plant squealed as he did so, much to his shock. “Nothing at all.”

“I also wished to apologize for our last meeting,” the goddess said with warmth, the mere sight of her face having almost killed the [Reaper]. “I am glad that you managed to tighten through the Kamacybele.”

“I asked for it, and the [Fiendish Rake] class was worth the hassle,” Victor replied. “Speaking of your condition, I have perhaps a solution.”

“There is none,” Cybele replied with a heavy sigh. “I tried everything to solve this issue. But I appreciate the attention, Victor.”

“Through Mag Mell’s captured soul, I have gained an understanding of Soulcrests and Black Crests, and how they interact with souls,” Victor argued. “You said you had Ludvic’s charisma before you ascended?”

The goddess nodded. “My current charisma score is the result of the [Deity] class, which juices up my original stats.”

“So it only builds upon the original charisma stat.” As Victor had guessed. “In this case, have you tried an amulet like Ludvic’s?”

“Yes, but they cannot affect a deity. I cannot be debuffed by any profane effect.”

“Then I believe that with my current knowledge, resources, and your assistance, I could create an artifact version that would reduce your original charisma stat. Perhaps enough to counteract the inflation from your [Deity] class.”

It couldn’t be more complicated than creating a Soulcrest, or a Black one. Black Crests in particular were… not a cheat, but an exploit in the system. They passively shored up magic, then boosted the user’s soul to trigger a very specific class and a set of Personal Perks. Unfortunately, [Fairy Beast] prevented the user from receiving any experience afterward, trapping them in their current state.

All in all, it meant that while the System’s rules couldn’t be broken, they had loopholes that one could exploit.

“You will have my gratitude if you succeed,” Cybele replied, before adding with cynicism. “But I remain skeptical.”

Well, Victor liked his odds. “For your image, I believe you need to add more prestige to your priests.”

This offended the goddess. “Are you saying that it is not prestigious to serve under me?”

“Not at all, milady,” Victor replied quickly while taking a deferential tone. Unlike a Seng or a Vainqueur, Cybele didn’t need to be flattered, but she expected respect. “But they are too accessible. I mean, the first time I met Allison, we couldn't arrange a friendly date because she was overbooked managing werewolf orgies. If you are too easy with your worshipers, then they will take you for granted.”

“But I believe in free love and happiness for everyone,” Cybele replied. “Except for Sablar and his worshipers, whom I strike with infertility.”

“Well, I—” Victor frowned. “Wait, you can do that?”

“Victor, I am the goddess of agriculture, and thus fertility. I can turn it on and off for any mortal.” Her fingers fidgeted in subtle embarrassment. “This is how I curse people who annoy me. Why? I cannot make you infertile, Victor; I bet too much on your family line.”

“Oh no. I would have asked before I actually had kids, but now that I realize they are cute and wonderful and that I love them and I want as many as I ca—” Victor suddenly calmed himself, before he went into another dad rant. “But, isn’t there a way to turn it on and off? It would remove many headaches.”

“I do not understand.”

“Lady Cybele, look at me.” Victor extended his arms. “I am easy.”

The goddess marked a short pause, as if he had stated the Earth was round. “I know. That is why I Claimed you.”

“But since I made myself easy, now everyone takes me for granted and wants a piece of me,” Victor argued. “It was flattering at first, but now I literally had to clone myself to complete important work. You have the same problem; you and your priests are so nice, that you are taken for granted.”

Charisma check successful.