The blade fell from above—
a cold arc of steel flashing across everyone's eyes.
For a heartbeat, the Holy Lord and the Demon Dragon just… froze.
Who could understand this?
He'd only brought his son for a quiet drink and some father–son bonding.
Then out of nowhere, a blue-haired lunatic showed up with a sword and tried to carve them in two.
Absolutely speechless.
Ron didn't even look up—kept right on eating.
Just as the edge was about to clip the Holy Lord's skull—
their figures blurred… and then simply weren't there.
A crisp crack rang out a second later.
Esdeath's sword snapped cleanly in two, the break smooth as glass.
"Little girl, no fighting in the tavern," came the Holy Lord's voice—from the bar.
The Demon Dragon snorted.
"If this weren't the tavern, you'd already be a corpse."
When Esdeath swung, the Holy Lord had swallowed his temper, palmed his son aside, and triggered the Rabbit Talisman—snatching them both to safety beside the counter in an instant.
If they'd actually traded blows, Esdeath would have died on the spot.
But the Holy Lord still held back—for one reason: Ron.
"How interesting," Esdeath murmured, letting the broken hilt fall. Frost breathed from her skin.
"A Danger Beast with speed?"
Cold surged. The room's temperature plunged.
Hoarfrost filmed the floorboards.
Rayleigh's eyes went wide.
Isn't this like Aokiji's ice?
No… this felt even heavier.
"That's enough. She's a guest," Ron said with a weary sigh as he set down his chopsticks.
"If you keep pushing, I'll have to show you the door."
Esdeath's aura faded at once. A hint of grievance glimmered in those blue eyes.
"…Fine."
She drifted to Ron's side and lightly tugged his sleeve, voice small, almost coy.
"Don't be so fierce next time. I'll behave."
Ron could only chuckle helplessly.
Who could turn down a tall, sultry ice queen who could actually whimper on command?
Rem and Ram traded a look full of alarm.
Their master really might run off with another pack.
Lucoa, delighted to stir the pot, smiled.
"Aren't you two going to do something?"
A hard light flashed in the twins' eyes. They half-rose—then sat back down.
"As long as the gun's with us, wasting a few bullets isn't a big deal," Ram sighed, frustrated.
Rem nodded solemnly.
Lucoa blinked, her perpetual squint popping open in surprise.
Where did they learn that line?
Even the goddess of culture had to concede—these two were getting good.
After lunch, full and mellow, Rayleigh nursed a drink and clapped the Holy Lord on the shoulder.
"Believe me—if you had been the one picking the fight, pouting and puppy eyes wouldn't have saved you."
Pouting? With Father?
The Demon Dragon pictured it and shuddered hard.
Disgusting.
"No! There are no 'ifs'!" the Holy Lord snapped, shaking his head as if to fling the image out.
Rayleigh curled his lip. Some demon you are—scary face, kids wet themselves at the sight… and you still fold the moment Ron speaks.
When the hour felt right, Rayleigh laid a wad of Berries on the counter and rose.
"Time to go guard my dear nephew."
"Devil Fruit tomorrow," Ron said, passing him a bottle with a grin. "Goji Brew. Restorative."
"I don't plan on you dying before I drain your coffin fund."
"Now that's service." Rayleigh laughed, took the bottle, and swaggered out.
The freebie wasn't charity; it was marketing.
If Rayleigh sent just one former crewmate through that door, the value would dwarf a dozen bottles.
—
After Rayleigh left, no one else came by.
Business as usual.
Rem and Ram continued showing Tohru the ropes.
The Holy Lord and Demon Dragon sat at a side table, "arguing" over a pile of bottles—
grand gestures, barely a whisper, careful not to disturb Lucoa's afternoon nap.
The Demon Dragon used a controlled gale to ferry their voices outside instead.
Ron and Esdeath chatted in fits and starts.
She spoke of her tribe, of hunts, and the day her people were wiped out.
Years later, she became a general—merciless to enemies, yes…
but generous to her own: sharing royal rewards, eating with common soldiers.
Her army's morale was iron for a reason.
At sunset, Esdeath upended her third jar of Du Kang, then rose.
"I'll go. Next time, I hope I can test your strongest here," she said, setting a handful of captured gems as payment.
Her eyes softened like water when they met Ron's.
"And I'd prefer if you came with me."
She turned and left.
Against the amber sky, her silhouette stretched long; blue hair streamed in the wind—
a perfect painting, if time could stop.
Slowly, her figure slipped from this world.
"You look a little disappointed. Want to chase her?"
Lucoa appeared in front of Ron, voice low and husky with sleep.
"I'm not—absolutely not—don't start," Ron blurted.
He could feel several pairs of eyes heating up behind him.
"I think her looks and figure are a shame to waste," Lucoa sighed theatrically.
"Not as good as yours," Ron said, patting his chest and looking straight at the… "Tiger Tank."
Flattery worked wonders on refined older women.
Lucoa's laugh made certain hills tremble before she glided off to help with dinner.
The system's cold chime whispered in Ron's mind:
[Ding! Customer: Esdeath has completed disclosure.]
[Options gained: Swordsmanship / Martial Arts / Teigu: Demon's Manifestation — Essence of the Demon. Choose one.]
[Customers: Demon Dragon, Holy Lord…]
"Take the Teigu. Store it," Ron said without hesitation.
In his memory, the Ice Teigu was the conserved blood of a Danger Beast sealed within a vessel.
From the others, he chose the Moon Devil's miasma—control over gravity—
and the Dog Talisman, eternal life.
—
Dinner came and went.
The Demon Dragon and Holy Lord drifted out into the night.
By eight o'clock, with no new customers, Ron flipped the sign and closed for the day.
He locked the door, washed up, and slid into bed, ready to consult the Sage of Dreams.
Then—
the window rasped open.
Moonlight etched a familiar, lush silhouette in silver as it launched toward him.
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