The night wind tugged at the hem of Ren Ming's coat, carrying the bite of the Iron Forest's eternal winter. Far below, the Great Hall of Gladsheim was finally quieting down. The roar of the feast had decayed into the incoherent mumbling of drunk gods, the thud of collapsing tables, and the distinctive booming baritone of Odin complaining about the tragedy of empty ale barrels. Asgard was slowly sliding from "glorious divine banquet" into the inevitable phase of "tomorrow's regretful hangover."
Ren Ming turned his back on the festivities, heading toward the guest wing.
He didn't need a map. His Immortal Soul Bone was humming—not with the sharp, discordant screech of warning it gave before a battle, but with a low, analytical purr. It stripped away the stone walls and the illusion spells of the Aesir, presenting the world to him as a lattice of energies.
He could feel the signatures of his entourage scattered through the guest quarters like bright nodes on a radar. Issei was a chaotic, sputtering fire near the Einherjar barracks, likely passed out face-first in a pile of hay. Kiba was a sharp, solitary needle of Sword Intent, meditating in the courtyard. Rossweisse was a knot of anxious mana near the outer wards, probably double-checking the defensive perimeters out of habit.
And then, there was the cluster.
Bright, tangled, and running hot. Like four high-voltage circuits overlapping until the air around them distorted.
Rias. Akeno. Asia. Koneko.
Ren Ming started walking in that direction before he had even consciously made the decision. His steps were silent, his Hell Suppressing Immortal Physique moving him with the predatory grace of a apex predator, yet his posture was that of a man strolling to a corner store at 2 AM.
The hallway outside the Gremory group's designated suite was dim, illuminated only by floating blue witchlights that drifted along the carved ceiling like bioluminescent jellyfish. The stone floor retained the warmth of ancient enchantments, and the air smelled of stale mead, soap, and the unfamiliar, pine-like scent of Asgardian incense.
Voices bled through the heavy oak door, which had been left slightly ajar.
They weren't loud. They weren't angry. They were… complicated.
Ren stopped a few meters away, leaning his shoulder casually against the rough-hewn stone wall. He didn't need to press his ear to the wood; his sensory perception was absolute. To the Immortal Soul Bone, the wood was as porous as cheesecloth. He could hear their heartbeats, the rustle of fabric, the intake of breath.
"…I still can't believe today happened," Asia's voice floated out first. It was small and tremulous, but unlike the fearful whisper she had used back at the church, this voice held a core of glowing warmth. "Everyone was so strong. Rias-buchou, Akeno-san, Koneko-chan… and Ren-san…"
"Mm." Koneko's flat, monotone voice followed, muffled around the crunch of a snack. "Ren-sensei is ridiculous."
"That's true," Akeno's voice chimed in, carrying that signature lilt of amusement, though Ren could hear the exhaustion beneath it. "Ara ara… our Ren-sama really is unfair. Making Chief Gods panic, making Valkyries swoon, and then slipping out in the middle of the party to comfort people one by one. Such a sinful man."
Rias sighed. It was a heavy sound, the sound of a King who had briefly set down her crown.
"He's… dangerous," Rias said quietly. "Not just in battle. I realized it on the balcony. The way he looks at people… it's like he can see right through your skin, through your lies, and straight into your core. Like nothing you do, good or bad, can actually surprise him."
A pause stretched, thick with memory.
"And yet," Rias added, her voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper, "when he praised me in the arena… when he told me I didn't have to lean, that I was delegating… I was honestly happy. Embarrassingly so."
"Rias-buchou was really cool!" Asia squeaked, seemingly bouncing on the bed. "When you erased that spear, even Odin-sama looked shocked! And when Ren-san kissed your hand on the balcony just now… it was, um… uuu…"
Her words dissolved into flustered, high-pitched noises of secondhand embarrassment.
"Hmm," Akeno purred, the sound vibrating with teasing intent. "You saw that, Asia-chan? Fufu… our Buchou has been making steady progress. As expected of the Crimson-Haired Ruin Princess. Aggressive."
"Ak—Akeno!" Rias hissed. There was a distinct whump of fabric—likely a pillow being thrown at high velocity. "You were spying, too!?"
"But of course. It is my duty as Queen to monitor the King's mental state… and her love life," Akeno replied serenely. "Besides… you are not the only one he cornered under the stars tonight."
Koneko crunched on something again. Loudly. "…Terrace," she said between bites. "Lightning."
Asia gasped. "Akeno-san… you and Ren-san…?"
Akeno's laughter came again, but this time it was softer, stripped of the performative sadism. It sounded genuinely baffled. "Ara ara… nothing that scandalous, I'm afraid. He just… held my hands. He helped me stabilize my lightning."
"…And?" Rias asked, her voice sharp with careful curiosity.
"He said things he shouldn't say so easily, as usual," Akeno murmured. "He told me he saw all of me. The cruel parts. The self-loathing. The sadistic side that I try to hide. And he said he didn't care. He called it 'Akeno-brand lightning' and told me to patent it. He looked at my 'impurity' and treated it like a feature, not a bug."
Asia's breath hitched. "…That sounds… exactly like him."
Koneko mumbled, "…He told me I was 'pure violence' earlier. Said he loved it."
"That is because you snapped a frost giant's leg like a twig, Koneko," Rias said, her tone a mix of exasperation and motherly pride.
"And then Asia-chan," Akeno continued, steering the spotlight. "With her Battlefield of Naps technique—"
"P-Please don't call it that!" Asia yelped, the sound echoing slightly in the hallway. "It's just… Twilight Suppression! Ren-san only said that as a joke!"
"Mm. Ren-sensei praised you a lot," Koneko said. "Called you the heart of the team. Asia smelled happy for hours. Like sunshine."
"Ko-Koneko-chan!" Asia squealed.
The room fell into a silence that wasn't empty; it was warm, tangled, and heavy with unspoken implications. Ren stood outside, his expression unreadable, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't just eavesdropping for the sake of it; he was gauging the Dao Heart of the group.
Then Rias spoke, her voice low and laced with a friction that Ren recognized immediately. It was the friction of desire clashing with duty.
"…That is exactly the problem."
"Hmm?" Akeno hummed.
"He is… like that with all of us," Rias admitted. Ren could visualize her hugging a cushion to her chest, creating a physical barrier against her own feelings. "Not just me. Not just you. Asia, Koneko… even Rossweisse-san. He gives everyone that same absolute focus. That same 'you are the only one in the room' feeling. It's intoxicating."
"That is how he is," Akeno agreed. "It is part of his charm. He does not filter."
"It is dangerous," Rias insisted. "My brother, Sirzechs, would say men like that are walking natural disasters. They pull everyone into their orbit and crush them."
Koneko's voice cut through the metaphors, blunt as a hammer. "…Do you dislike it, Buchou?"
"…No," Rias replied honestly, the word hanging in the air. "I like it too much."
Asia's voice was timid, barely a whisper. "…Um. Is it… wrong? For me to… also like it? Ren-san, I mean…"
"Asia-chan," Rias said, and the smile in her voice was audible—fond, helpless, and resigned. "You are allowed to like whoever you like. I am not Riser Phenex. I do not own your heart."
Asia let out a shaky giggle of relief.
Akeno's tone turned thoughtful, shifting from emotional to analytical. "…The question is not whether we like him. The question is what we intend to do about it."
Koneko redirected the conversation to the endgame. "…Buchou is okay with sharing?"
The room went dead silent.
Outside, Ren raised an eyebrow. Straight for the jugular, huh? That's my Tank.
Rias let out a long, frustrated breath that shuddered with the weight of her upbringing. "In the beginning," she said slowly, "I wanted him for myself. Just me. Selfish, right?"
"Very Gremory," Akeno teased gently.
"But this isn't Kuoh Academy anymore," Rias continued, her voice gaining steel. "We've seen gods, dragons, enemies from myths. The future is going to be more chaotic than I ever imagined. If we cling to old, human ideas like 'just one person' when that person clearly doesn't fit in such a small box… we will only hurt ourselves. And him."
"I… don't want anyone to be hurt," Asia whispered.
"Neither do I," Rias said softly. "I won't… steal him away in the night and pretend you all don't exist. That kind of love is ugly. I've seen enough of that politics in Devil society, where concubines are hidden away in shame. I refuse that."
"Buchou…" Akeno sounded genuinely touched.
"But," Rias added, the power of the King piece flaring in her tone, "I also won't pretend that I don't want him. That I won't compete when it matters. I am a Devil, after all. We pursue what we desire. If Ren chooses to walk the path of a harem king, then…" She took a deep breath. "Then I will stand at the front. Not at the back."
Koneko popped another snack. "…You already are at the front."
"Is that so?" Rias muttered, sounding flustered.
"Mm. Balcony scene," Koneko said. "Very obvious."
Akeno giggled. "Ara ara… I wonder if we should prepare a ticketing system? 'Please take a number if you wish to fall for Ren-sama.'"
Asia panicked. "A-Ara ara is Akeno-san's line! I can't do that!"
They laughed, the tension easing.
Then Asia's voice turned very small. "…Um. But… what about Ren-san himself? Has he… said anything? About this kind of… relationship?"
Akeno hummed. "…He has… hinted. Joked. He is not shy about his desires, at least."
Rias hesitated. "…He did say one thing. On the balcony. He said he wasn't interested in 'collecting damsels' and that he was 'building an empire' with 'Queens only.'"
"…That sounds like him," Koneko said.
Asia whispered, the self-doubt creeping back in. "…Queens only… I'm not a queen…"
Ren pushed off the wall.
He'd heard enough.
If he let them spiral on their own, this would turn into one of those endless anime misunderstandings he despised. A loop of jealousy, unnecessary drama, miscommunication, and everyone being miserable until volume seventeen. He didn't have the patience for slow-burn angst. He was a cultivator; he seized destiny by the throat.
He rapped his knuckles lightly against the half-open door—knock, knock—then slid it the rest of the way open with his shoulder before anyone could scramble to hide.
"Yo," he said.
Four faces whipped toward him.
The reaction was immediate chaos. Rias shot upright from the bed, a crimson blush exploding across her face that matched her hair perfectly. Akeno's smile snapped into place like a defensive energy shield, though her eyes were wide with shock. Asia froze, clutching a pillow like a lifeline, looking like a startled rabbit caught in headlights. Koneko, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a stolen Asgardian pastry in both hands, simply blinked, unbothered.
"R—Ren!" Rias stammered, trying to summon her dignity and failing. "Y-You should knock!"
"I did," he said mildly, holding up the hand he'd used. "The room is noisy. I blame Akeno's laughter. Very distracting."
"Ara ara, how cruel," Akeno murmured, but she looked away, the tips of her ears burning pink.
Ren stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo like a thunderclap in the silent room. The guest suite was luxurious—furs, stone hearths, view of Yggdrasil—but with four girls and their luggage, it felt cozy. Intimate.
He scanned them. He saw the nerves, the hope, the fear of rejection.
He clapped his hands once. Smack.
"Alright," he said, his voice cutting through the atmosphere. "Let's have a meeting."
"A… meeting?" Asia echoed, baffled.
Rias tried to regain control of the situation, smoothing her dress. "Ren. We were just—"
"Talking about me," he finished for her, walking past them to the center of the room. "My fault for eavesdropping. I'll accept the scolding later. But since the topic is me, I might as well be in the room to fact-check, yeah?"
Silence.
He dragged a heavy wooden chair over to the low table, spun it around, and sat. He didn't sit like a noble, stiff and proper. He sprawled, legs stretched out, elbows resting on the backrest, radiating that distinct 2020 American casualness that seemed so alien in this world of formal devils and ancient gods.
He looked at each of them in turn. His gaze wasn't lecherous, but it wasn't shy either. It was the weight of a mountain, calm and absolute.
"First," he said, his tone conversational, "let me say this so there's zero confusion. No misunderstandings, no reading between the lines."
Their eyes fixed on him.
Ren smiled. It wasn't his arrogance-filled smirk he saved for enemies. It was just… him.
"I like all of you," he said.
Asia made a sound like a kettle boiling over.
"Not just as students, or subordinates, or Peerage members," Ren continued, ticking fingers. "I'm attracted to you. Rias, Akeno, Asia, Koneko. Romantically. Physically. Emotionally. The whole messy package."
Akeno's eyes widened slightly, the mask slipping. "Ara ara… you really do say these things without hesitation, Ren-sama…"
Rias's lips parted, her breath catching. For a moment, a kaleidoscope of emotions flashed across her face—relief, embarrassment, victory, and a strange sort of surrender.
Koneko just stared, her golden eyes unblinking. "…I knew," she said.
"Of course you did," Ren said dryly, shooting her a finger gun. "You have the best instincts in the house."
He leaned back, the wood of the chair creaking. "Second point. I heard the concerns about 'sharing' and 'burdens.' Let me clear that up."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Honestly, every time I see some lucky protagonist or some noble whine about, 'Oh no, having all these beautiful women around me is such a headache, so much trouble,' I want to throw them out a window. Defenestration is too good for them."
"Ren…" Rias muttered, half-scandalized, half-amused by his bluntness.
"I'm serious," he said. "I don't find the idea of managing multiple partners 'troublesome.' I like it when things are lively. I like noisy breakfasts. I like fights over the last piece of cake. I like seeing people I care about teasing each other, supporting each other, challenging each other. To me, that's not a burden. That's… the reward. That's the empire."
Asia's eyes shimmered, reflecting the witchlights. "…Reward…"
"I have the power to protect multiple people," he went on, his voice dropping an octave, becoming serious. "I have enough lifespan, enough mental bandwidth, and a high enough cultivation base to make this work. My Fate Palaces aren't going to crack just because I have to give hugs to three or four people in the same day." He tapped his temple lightly. "I'm built different."
He let that settle. The confidence in his voice wasn't bravado; it was a simple statement of fact, backed by the Myriad Origin Scripture.
"But," he said, raising a finger, "I'm only one person. A very handsome, extremely capable person—"
"Ren-sama," Akeno chided, smiling despite herself.
"—but still just one," he continued. "So the foundation has to be communication. If we're doing this—if any of you choose to walk this path with me—then we operate on transparency. No mind games."
He looked directly at Rias.
"When you're jealous, you tell me. When you're insecure, you tell me. When you want more attention, or less, or a different pace, you tell me."
His expression softened. "When something hurts, Rias, you say 'that hurt.' You don't smile, bury it deep inside that Gremory pride, and then explode six months later."
Rias flinched with uncanny accuracy, then glared weakly. "You… you make it sound like I'm that childish."
"You are that honest," he corrected gently. "Which is one of the things I like about you. You carry the world, Rias. I'm just saying you can set it down when you're with me."
He turned to Akeno.
"And you," he said. "You don't get to hide behind 'ara ara' forever. If something bothers you, you can't just smile, tease everyone into a corner, and then go punish yourself alone in the dark. That behavior? It's canceled. Off the table."
Akeno's lashes trembled. She looked down at her hands—the hands that had held lightning only an hour ago. "…You really are cruel, Ren-sama," she whispered, her voice watery. "You strip away all my little defenses."
"You're welcome," he said.
He met Asia's gaze next. The former nun shrank slightly, accustomed to judgment.
"Asia."
"Y-Yes!" she squeaked.
"You don't apologize for existing every time you want something," he said firmly. "You're allowed to say, 'I want to hold your hand.' Or, 'I want alone time.' Or even, 'I'm scared everyone else is moving faster than me.' Your desires are not sins that need confession. We aren't in the Church anymore."
Asia's eyes filled with tears. She pressed her hands to her chest, as if holding her heart together. "…Ren-san…"
Finally, he looked at Koneko.
"And you," he said. "You don't get to pretend you don't care while your tail puffs up like a pinecone in mating season."
Koneko's eyes widened. She instinctively reached back to check her tail, which was hidden. "I… I do not puff," she said flatly, her ears twitching in betrayal.
"Mm. Sure. The data says otherwise," Ren said, unconvinced. "My point is: you can speak up, too. You're not just the mascot or the 'little sister.' You're a woman with her own feelings. I won't let you hide behind deadpan one-liners forever."
Koneko ducked her head, chewing slowly. Her cheeks were faintly pink. "…Annoying," she murmured. But there was no real heat in it. It was affectionate.
Ren exhaled, spreading his hands wide.
"So. That's my stance. I like you. I want to build something with you. Plural 'you.' I'm not going to pretend otherwise to be noble. But I won't drag anyone along. You set your own pace. You can say 'yes' now, 'no' later, 'not yet,' or 'only this much.' I'd rather have your trust than your forced affection."
The room was very, very quiet. The wind howled outside the window, but inside, it was still.
Rias broke the silence first.
"…You make it sound so simple," she said, her voice almost dazed. "As if something people have written tragedies and operas about for centuries is just… 'talk to each other.'"
Ren shrugged. "Most tragedies happen because people don't open their mouths. Or they open them and lie. Systems can be complicated. Cultivation, politics, pantheons… that's math. But feelings?" He tapped his chest. "Feelings are like energy, like Qi. You let them stagnate, they turn poisonous. You let them flow, they become strength. It's mechanics."
Rias looked down at her hands, interlacing her fingers. "…I'm selfish," she admitted again. "I want you to look at me first. To call me first. To reach for me first."
"You were already the king before I showed up," he said simply. "So you have some priority in the chain of command. That won't change."
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
"But," she said, lifting her chin, the crimson in her eyes glowing, "I also… don't want to trample on the others' feelings. I saw what happened to girls who were treated like trophies. I refuse to become that kind of woman."
Ren smiled, slow and genuine. "Good. Then don't. Be Rias Gremory, who drags everyone up with her rather than stomping them down."
Akeno toyed with a long strand of raven hair, her eyes half-lidded and dangerous. "Ara ara… So bold. You want to gather all of us together and make us happy without letting us break, hm? You know that is a very tall order, Ren-sama. High maintenance."
He grinned, baring teeth.
"I like tall orders," he said. "I like impossible physics problems. And I like high stakes."
He looked at Asia, softening his expression. "You can say whatever you have on your mind, Asia. No filter."
Asia swallowed hard. She looked at Rias, then at Ren. "…Then… I…" Her voice faded. She fumbled for words, overwhelmed.
Rias shifted closer to her on the bed, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. "It's alright, Asia," she murmured. "You don't have to answer everything tonight."
"Right," Ren agreed, standing up. The chair scraped against the stone. "This isn't a contract signing. No blood oaths required yet. Just… setting the rules of the game before people get hurt by default settings."
He walked around the table. He stopped in front of them.
"I'll give you some space to process," he said lightly. "But before I go…"
He extended a hand.
"Rias."
She looked up at him, eyes bright with conflict and something fiercer.
"Walk with me," he said. "Just to the door."
She blinked, puzzled, but placed her hand in his. Her skin was soft, but he could feel the latent Power of Destruction humming beneath it. He gently tugged her to her feet.
Then, without fanfare, he drew her into a brief, respectful embrace. One arm around her shoulders, his other hand resting lightly at her waist. It wasn't sexual; it was grounding.
She stiffened for a heartbeat, then relaxed, melting into the contact. She rested her forehead briefly against his chest, listening to the slow, steady thrum of his heart—a heart that beat like a war drum.
"Whatever path we take from here," he murmured against her hair, low enough that only she could hear, "you'll be walking on it as a queen. Not as a girl begging to be chosen. Never that."
Rias's fingers tightened in the fabric of his back. "…You really like saying dangerous things," she whispered.
"Comes naturally," he said.
He let her go, and she sat down again. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were steady. Grounded.
He turned to Akeno next.
She raised a brow, already smirking, but the slight tremble in her hands gave her away.
"If you're going to have a crisis later about whether you're allowed to enjoy this," he told her quietly, leaning down slightly, "I'm telling you now: you are. You don't need my permission to be yourself. But if you want it anyway… you have it."
Akeno's mask cracked for a moment, revealing the younger, frightened girl beneath who had watched her mother die.
"Ara," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "That might be the cruelest thing you've said tonight, Ren-sama. I'll have to punish you later."
"I'll look forward to it," he said, winking.
He squeezed her shoulder—a solid, comforting pressure—then moved on.
He paused in front of Asia.
She shrank a little under his attention, instinct taking over, then forced herself to meet his eyes. That, in itself, was massive progress.
"Asia."
"Y-Yes, Ren-san!"
"I'm proud of you," he said simply. "Not just for today's fight. For how far you've come since that church. For how you keep choosing kindness even when the world told you it was wrong."
Her breath hitched. The mention of the church still hurt—the phantom pain of the Fallen Angels—but now it didn't hollow her out completely. She had built new foundations.
"If you decide you want to walk next to me," he went on, "I'll make sure that kindness is never used against you again. I got you. That's a promise."
Tears spilled over this time, but they were warm, not cold.
"…I'll… think about it," she whispered, clutching the pillow. "Um… I mean… I already… I…" She flailed, her face burning.
He chuckled, reaching out to pat her head gently. "Take your time. No rush."
Finally, he looked down at Koneko.
She chomped the last bite of her pastry, cheeks puffed slightly, staring up at him like a suspicious cat analyzing a new piece of furniture.
"Koneko."
"Ren-sensei."
"If someone teases you tomorrow," he said, "about clinging to me too much, or tries to make you feel small…" His eyes flashed with a hint of gray light. "You have my full permission to break their knee."
A tiny, micro-smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "…Just their knee?"
"Start with the knee," he said gravely. "We can escalate to spines later."
She nodded, satisfied. "Understood."
He moved to the door, hand on the handle, then glanced back over his shoulder.
"Talk to each other," he said. "Not just about me. About everything. You're not just girls in a harem. You're comrades who faced down gods together. Don't forget that."
Rias inhaled, then nodded firmly. "We won't."
"Good," he said. "I'll be on the roof for a bit. Need to breathe something that isn't mead and testosterone."
He slipped out.
The door closed with a click.
Inside, the four girls sat in heavy, thoughtful silence. The atmosphere had shifted. The uncertainty was still there, but the dread was gone.
Then Akeno let out a low whistle, leaning back in her chair. "…Ara ara… we really have picked up a troublesome man, haven't we?"
Rias snorted, wiping her eyes. "…You say 'troublesome,' but you sound happy."
Akeno smiled, genuinely this time. "…Maybe I am."
Koneko reached into a nearby woven basket and produced another pastry. With surprising delicacy, she broke it neatly into four equal pieces.
"Share," she said simply, holding the plate out.
Asia giggled, wiping her cheeks. "…Yes."
They leaned in together, small hands meeting over the plate.
Outside, Ren Ming leaned against the stone wall of the corridor for a moment, listening to their laughter soften, blend, and lose its tension.
He smiled to himself—a small, private thing.
...
The massive, carved door clicked shut, sealing the warmth of the Gremory suite behind him.
Ren Ming stood in the hallway for a second, the silence of the corridor washing over him. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic, heavy atmosphere he had just dismantled inside. He rolled his neck, hearing a satisfying pop, and let out a long breath.
He turned and headed for the exterior walkway.
The guest wing of Gladsheim was wrapped in an open-air balcony of gray stone, suspended high above the roots of the World Tree. The night air of Asgard was crisp, biting deep into the lungs with a chill that would freeze a normal human solid. But for Ren, whose blood pumped with the heat of the Hell Suppressing Immortal Physique, it felt like a pleasant breeze.
He walked to the stone railing and leaned against it, looking out.
The view was alien and majestic. Yggdrasil dominated the horizon, its colossal branches glowing with a bioluminescent green-gold twilight that served as the sun for this realm. Far below, the Iron Forest was a jagged silhouette of black metal trees, a silent graveyard waiting for violence.
Ren's eyes narrowed slightly. His Immortal Soul Bone hummed, an involuntary reaction to the environment. To his vision, the landscape wasn't just scenery; it was a grid of energy density. He could see the ley lines pulsing through the roots of the World Tree, thick and ancient.
'Fifth Fate Palace needs a push,' he mused, his mind already drifting from romance to ballistics. 'The Wyverns in that forest... if I strip their cores and refine the chaotic draconic resentment with the Myriad Origin Scripture...hmm...let's shoot for Ancient Saint.'
He was halfway through mentally vivisecting a hypothetical dragon when he felt it.
A vibration in the stone.
It wasn't a footstep. It was too light for that. It was the displacement of air caused by a condensed mass of high-grade energy moving silently.
"...Ren-sensei."
Ren didn't jump. He just tilted his head back, glancing over his shoulder.
Koneko Toujou stood in the shadow of the doorway.
She looked entirely different from the armored juggernaut she had been earlier in the arena. She was barefoot, her small frame swallowed by an oversized Asgardian wool sweater that hung down to her knees. Her white hair was tousled, sticking up in defiant little tufts from sleep.
But her eyes—distinctive, cat-slit golden irises—were wide awake, glowing faintly in the dim light.
"Can't sleep?" Ren asked, his voice low to match the quiet night.
Koneko padded forward. Her movement was eerie in its grace; she didn't walk so much as flow across the stone, her center of gravity perfect.
"...Too noisy," she said flatly.
Ren raised an eyebrow. He glanced down at the distant barracks where the Einherjar had finally passed out. "The hall's dead quiet. Even Odin finally shut up about the ale barrels."
Koneko shook her head. She stopped beside him, close enough that the static charge of her Touki brushed against his aura. She tapped her own chest with a small, bandaged fist.
"...Here," she murmured.
"Ah," Ren nodded, turning back to the view. "Internal noise. The worst kind. No volume knob for that."
They stood in silence for a moment. The wind howled softly, carrying the scent of pine and ancient magic.
"...You meant it," Koneko said abruptly. Her voice cut through the wind, devoid of her usual deadpan snark.
"Meant what?"
"About not treating me like a mascot."
Ren rested his chin on his hand, looking at her. "Yeah. Why? You think I was just dropping pick-up lines?"
Koneko gripped the stone railing, her knuckles turning white. Her ears, usually hidden, twitched beneath her hair.
"...I'm not used to hearing it," she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper that barely survived the wind. "People say 'cute' a lot. They say 'petite.' They say 'strong for her size.' They pat my head like I'm a stray cat they found in a box."
She looked down at her own hands. They were small, almost delicate, but Ren could see the calluses built from thousands of Impact Fist drills.
"Not 'girl,'" she whispered. "Not 'woman.'"
Ren watched her, his expression shifting from casual to analytical. He saw the tension in her shoulders—the weight of a bloodline she hated. The Nekomata heritage. The fear of becoming her sister, Kuroka.
"I can tell you've lived a rough life," Ren said calmly. "Dealt a bad hand that would shatter the minds of most grown men, let alone someone young."
Koneko's fingers curled, scratching against the stone.
"...I hate this body sometimes," she confessed. The words tumbled out, ugly and raw. "The power inside. The tail. The ears. It feels… dirty. If I weren't a Nekoshou, Kuroka wouldn't have gone crazy. If I were just normal…"
"Stop."
The word wasn't shouted, but it landed with the weight of a gavel.
Koneko blinked, looking up at him, startled.
Ren turned fully to face her, leaning one elbow on the railing. His posture was relaxed, 2020 casual, but his eyes were sharp, glowing with that strange, ancient gray light of the Immortal Soul Bone.
"Listen to me," Ren said. "In the world where my arts come from, talent is everything. Bloodlines like yours? Sects would slaughter entire countries just to get a disciple with a drop of your potential. Ancient Ming, Hell Suppressing Physique, your true roots—these are resources. They aren't curses."
He reached out and tapped her forehead with two fingers. Thwack.
"Ow," she blinked, rubbing the spot.
"The only thing that matters is how you drive the car," Ren stated. "Not what some dusty old geezer in the Underworld council decided when you were three years old. You think your power is evil? Energy has no morality, Koneko. It's just fuel."
Koneko's ears drooped slightly. "...You make it sound easy."
"It's not easy," Ren corrected. "But it is simple. You're Koneko Toujou. Rook of the Gremory Peerage. Your Soul Palace is at fifty percent condensation. Your Touki loop is perfectly synced with the Myriad Origin Scripture. Earlier today, I watched you snap a Frost Giant's leg like it was a dry twig and then look around for seconds."
A tiny, distinct twitch tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"...He was annoying," she muttered.
Ren chuckled, a dry, genuine sound.
"Look, you're allowed to be a girl who likes sweets, wants head pats, and naps in sunbeams," he said. "You are also allowed to be a walking natural disaster who can crater a battlefield with a single punch. Those aren't contradictions. They're just... layers. You're a tank with a soft interior."
She stared at him for a long, stretching moment. The golden light in her eyes seemed to stabilize, the chaotic swirling of her insecurities settling down.
Slowly, very slowly, she stepped closer. She pressed her shoulder against his arm. It was a tentative touch, seeking an anchor.
"...I was jealous," she said suddenly.
Ren didn't flinch. "I know."
"Of Buchou," she listed. "And Akeno-senpai. Even Asia. They're… mature. Beautiful."
"And you're Koneko," Ren said.
Her tail, hidden under the sweater, betrayed her by swaying visibly against the fabric.
"...I thought… if I admitted it, you'd laugh," she whispered. "Or… treat me like a child with a stupid crush."
Ren let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Do I look like I have the free time to laugh at something that serious? Jealousy is just natural. It means you care. Caring is good. It just needs a vector."
She frowned, looking up. "...Vector?"
"Direction," Ren clarified. "Don't let it rot inside you. Use it as fuel. If Akeno is ahead in lightning output, push your Touki mastery. If Rias is ahead in aura control, refine your Soul Palace until it's solid diamond. Don't stew in 'I'm not enough.' Turn it into 'I'll make them chase me.'"
The idea seemed to spark something in her. The predator in her bloodline woke up. Her eyes sharpened.
"So," Ren added, locking eyes with her. "Let me be clear right now."
He leaned down slightly.
"I like you," he said. "Not as a mascot. Not as a half-little sister. As Koneko. The girl who glares at gods like they're annoying stray dogs, who hoards snacks like a dragon hoards gold, and who headbutts my stomach when she's happy instead of saying thank you."
Koneko's cheeks flushed a delicate, dusty pink.
"...You noticed," she mumbled, looking away.
"I notice everything," Ren said, tapping his temple. "I have a sharp mind."
She hesitated, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater.
"...If I… get stronger," she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "If I accept… this body. If I stop being scared of the power… Will you… still…?"
"Still like you?" Ren finished for her. He smirked. "Yeah. Power doesn't change the person, Tank. Whether you're a quiet Touki kitten or a Hell Suppressing Empress who shakes the earth, I'll still be right there, being a bad influence."
She actually laughed at that—a short, startled sound that warmed the cold air between them.
"...You really are a bad influence," she said.
"Terrible," he agreed. "Absolutely one star."
She stood there for a second, processing. The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she didn't move to brush it away. She seemed to come to a decision.
Without warning, Koneko stepped directly in front of him. She rose up on her tiptoes, grabbed the fabric of his shirt to steady herself, and—
Bonk.
She bumped her forehead lightly against his chest.
It wasn't a hug. It was a clumsy, catlike gesture of affection. A claim. In the language of her species, it was absolute.
"...Then," she murmured, her voice muffled against his shirt, "I'll… walk this path, too. Slowly. At my own pace. Don't… run too fast ahead."
Ren smiled. It wasn't his usual arrogant smirk; it was soft. He rested his hand gently on the crown of her head, his fingers threading through the silky white hair.
"I'll leave enough footprints for you to follow," he promised. "Big, obvious ones."
She hummed softly, a vibration that resonated in her throat. She stayed there for another ten seconds, recharging her social battery, before pulling away.
"...I'm going to sleep," she announced, her face returning to its usual stoic mask, though her eyes were shining. "Tomorrow's training will be heavy."
"Hell yeah it will," Ren grinned. "I'm increasing the load."
"Sadist," she deadpanned. But there was no heat in it.
She walked to the doorway, paused, and glanced back.
"...Ren-sensei."
"Yeah?"
Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. She looked at the floor, then at him.
"...If… someone calls me cute… I won't mind. If it's you."
Then, like a wisp of smoke, she vanished inside before he could respond.
Ren blinked at the empty doorway. He let out a snort of amusement, shaking his head.
"...These kids," he muttered to the empty air. "Trying to kill me with gap moe. Deadly technique."
He turned back to the railing, intending to get back to his wyvern calculations.
He didn't get the chance.
Barely ten minutes later—just as he was visualizing the optimal angle to sever a wyvern's spine—another set of footsteps approached.
These were different. They weren't silent or predatory. They were soft, hesitant scuffs against the stone.
"Um… R-Ren-san?"
Ren turned slowly.
Asia Argento stood there.
She looked small against the backdrop of the massive Norse architecture. She was wearing a simple, modest nightgown, her blonde hair damp at the ends as if she'd just scrubbed herself clean. Her hands were clasped nervously over her stomach, and around her neck hung a small, simple cross.
Ren noted the cross immediately. Even now, after being cast out, after becoming a Devil, she wore it.
Her green eyes were wide, reflecting the starlight, filled with a turbulent mix of hope and terror.
"Hey, Asia," Ren said, keeping his voice gentle. He leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms. "Couldn't sleep either?"
She fidgeted, shifting her weight. "...A… A little. Um. I… I was trying to pray, but… my head started hurting again, so I stopped," she admitted, rubbing her temple with a sheepish, apologetic smile.
Ren's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance—not at her, but at the System.
"Yeah, that'll do it," he said dryly. "Heaven reception is pretty trash for Devils. It's a people incompatibility, not a moral failing."
She giggled weakly at the analogy, though confusion lingered in her eyes. Then she sobered up, her hands tightening around each other.
"...Ren-san," she began. Her voice wavered.
He waited. He didn't rush her.
"I…" She took a deep breath. "I'm… happy. Very happy. You said such… kind things in the room earlier. About me. About my… kindness."
"I only state facts," Ren said.
"But…" She bit her lip, looking down at her bare feet. "I'm… also… scared."
Ren tilted his head. "Of what? Wyverns? Dragons?"
She shook her head rapidly.
"...Of… not deserving it," she whispered. The words were so quiet they were almost lost to the wind. "Of… not deserving you."
Ah.
Ren pushed off the railing. He stepped closer, entering her personal space just enough to show he was listening, but keeping enough distance so she wouldn't feel cornered.
"Explain," he said. "And don't give me the simplified version. Tell me everything."
She swallowed hard.
"...Ever since I left the church," she said, her voice trembling, "people have said… many things. That I was a heretic. A witch. That my Sacred Gear, Twilight Healing, was 'too dangerous' to exist. That I was 'too kind' in the wrong way."
Her fingers went to the cross at her neck, clutching it like a lifeline.
"Raynare-san… she killed me because I healed the wrong person. Even after Buchou saved me, I… always thought… maybe… I was being too selfish. That asking for a warm place, for friends… was greedy."
Tears began to gather in her eyes, spilling over her lashes.
"And now…" she choked out, "now I'm a Devil. I drink tea in the clubroom, I laugh, I train… and… and I—" She hiccuped, a sound of pure heartbreak. "I started to… want things. To want… you. To want to stay by your side. To maybe be… more than just the healer. But when I saw how amazing Rias-buchou was tonight, and Akeno-san, and Koneko-chan… I just…"
She covered her face with her hands.
"...I thought, 'Someone like me is too greedy,'" she wept. "Even though I've already received so much… I want more. Isn't that a sin?"
Ren listened to every word. He didn't interrupt. He let the poison drain out of the wound.
When her sobs quieted to sniffs, he spoke.
"Asia."
"Y-Yes…?" she sniffled, peeking through her fingers.
"Back then," Ren said, his voice dropping to a serious, resonant timber. "In the church. When you were healing people for free, healing Devils and Fallen Angels alike, getting yelled at by the bishops. Were you thinking, 'I deserve to do this'? Or were you just… doing it?"
She blinked, startled by the angle of the question.
"I… I just… wanted to help," she stammered. "When they stopped hurting… it made my heart feel… warm."
"Right," Ren said. "And when you pray now, even though the System gives you a migraine that feels like a spike through the brain… are you doing it to score points with a God who already kicked you out? Or are you doing it because those words still mean something to you?"
Her eyes widened. The tears stopped flowing for a moment.
"...Because… it still matters," she admitted softly. "I… I still believe those teachings are… beautiful. Love your neighbor. Forgive those who hurt you. Help the weak… Even if I am a Devil now, I… I don't want to throw that away."
"Good," Ren said firmly. "Keep it."
She stared at him, baffled. "...But… I thought… it was… strange. For a Devil. To be this way."
"Asia," Ren said, taking a step closer. The gray light in his eyes intensified, seeing straight through to her core. "You're not a Devil because you decided to be evil. You're a Devil because some scumbags abused the system and Rias refused to let you die. Your biology changed. Your heart didn't suddenly grow horns."
He tapped his own chest, right over his heart.
"In the cultivation world—my world—we talk about the Dao Heart. The unshakeable will."
He swept his hand out, gesturing to the world around them.
"People think strength is about how big your explosion is. But people like you? You break worlds in a different way. Not with Dragon Shots or Power of Destruction, but by refusing to become something you're not when the world tries its hardest to turn you into one."
Asia's breath hitched. She had never heard anyone describe her weakness as strength before.
"Let me be clear," Ren continued, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't like you because you healed me once. I don't like you just because you're cute when you trip over your words. I like you because even after the excommunication, the betrayal, the literal murder… you still cry when strangers get hurt. You still worry about other people's happiness more than your own."
He smiled, a faint, genuine expression that softened the sharp angles of his face.
"That kind of heart is what cultivators call a Supreme Foundation. With the Myriad Origin Scripture recycling your energy and Twilight Suppression handling the output… that foundation will let you rewrite the laws of life and death on a battlefield. You aren't a liability, Asia. You're the anchor."
Asia was trembling. Her entire worldview, built on guilt and unworthiness, was being dismantled brick by brick.
"...But…" she managed to whisper, looking up at him with wet eyes. "If I… want you… too… isn't that… selfish?"
"Sure," Ren shrugged. "So what?"
She blinked, thrown off balance by his bluntness.
"Everyone is selfish," Ren said, leaning down to look her in the eye. "I'm selfish. I want an empire. Rias is selfish; she wants freedom. Odin is a walking bundle of selfishness and alcohol. The question isn't 'am I allowed to want.' It's 'what do I do with that wanting.'"
He held up a finger.
"Do I hurt people for it? Do I lie? Do I trample others? Or do I say it out loud, negotiate, and build something with mutual consent?"
He lowered his hand.
"If you came to me tonight and said, 'Ren-san, I want you to only look at me, kick Rias and Akeno out,' I'd say no. Because that's cruel. But you? You're not doing that. Your selfishness has guardrails, Asia. You're greedy for warmth, not dominance."
Asia stood frozen. The permission hung in the air, heavy and liberating.
Ren slowly extended his hand, palm up.
"So I'll ask you plainly," he said. "Asia Argento."
Her name sounded different when he said it. Not a label, but a recognition.
"...Do you want," he asked gently, "to stand beside me? Not just as the team's healer. As Asia. As a girl who likes me. Harem, chaos, scary battles, and competition included?"
Her fingers trembled. She looked at his hand—large, scarred, capable of terrible violence and gentle guidance.
She wrestled with the old voices one last time. The bishops calling her a witch. The Fallen Angels laughing at her naivety.
Then, she shoved them aside.
Very slowly, she reached out. Her hand was cold from the night air, but when she placed it in his, her palm was burning hot.
"...Yes," she whispered. Her voice cracked, but it held. "I… I want that. I'm… scared. But… I want it."
Ren's smile deepened.
"Good," he said simply.
He didn't pull her into a dip or a spin. He gently tugged her forward and wrapped his arms around her in a steady, grounding hug.
It was warm. Solid. The smell of him filled her senses—ozone, steel, a faint hint of soap, and something uniquely him, like the dry, clean air of a mountaintop.
Asia clutched the back of his shirt, burying her face in his chest.
"I can't promise there won't be hard days," Ren murmured into her hair. "There will be fights. There will be times you see me holding someone else and you feel that ugly little twist in your gut. That's part of the deal."
She nodded against him, her tears soaking into his shirt.
"But I can promise this," he said, his voice vibrating through his chest against her cheek. "I won't treat you as less. You aren't the 'spare.' You aren't the 'backup.' You walk this path, you walk as Asia. Not as someone's shadow."
She sobbed once, a release of tension she had been carrying for months, then laughed weakly through the tears.
"...Ren-san," she whispered, voice muffled. "You really… say terrible things so easily. You make my heart beat too fast."
"Better than your heart being dead, right?" Ren quipped.
He pulled back just enough to look at her face. He brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb, his touch surprisingly rough but careful.
"From now on," he added lightly, "when you want something—a hug, a kiss, a date, a sparring session—you say it. Out loud. No more waiting for a divine sign from above. You're the boss of you."
Her face went crimson instantly. "...K-Kiss…"
Ren raised a brow, teasing. "Hm? You want one now?"
She squeaked, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. "N-Nothing! I—I'll… work hard! To be ready!"
Ren chuckled, reaching out to boop her nose. Boop.
"Good answer," he said. "Now, bedtime. Tomorrow, I'm making you run Twilight energy loops until your Sacred Gear hums like a temple bell. We're hunting Wyverns, and I need you to be unkillable."
"Yes!" she said reflexively, snapping to attention. Then she blinked. "...Ah. Wyverns?"
"Big lizards. Lots of teeth. You'll be fine," Ren waved it off. "Contract sealed. Go sleep."
She giggled, a light, bubbly sound that belonged to a normal teenage girl. She bowed slightly, even though it was just the two of them.
"G-Good night, Ren-san," she said, beaming. "Thank you. For… everything."
"Good night, Asia."
He watched her turn and hurry back down the corridor. She moved differently now. Her shoulders weren't hunched. Her hands weren't clasped in prayer; they were swinging at her sides.
When she disappeared around the corner, Ren turned back to the railing one last time.
The silence returned, but it felt different now. Lighter.
Ren looked up at the alien constellations painted across the Norse sky. He took a deep breath, and the Myriad Origin Scripture inside him flared to life.
It began to cycle.
It took the exhaustion of the day, the lingering adrenaline of the earlier fights, the emotional weight of the conversations with Rias, Akeno, Koneko, and Asia, and it crushed them. It refined them. It turned the complexity of human connection into pure, simplified resolve.
'Rias. Akeno. Asia. Koneko.'
Four karmic threads tied to his own. Four vectors to balance. Four hearts beating at different rhythms—each one a variable in the chaotic equation of his life.
Most men would be terrified. Most protagonists would be agonizing over the complications.
Ren felt no dread.
He felt a calm, anticipatory thrill run down his spine, sparking through his Hell Suppressing Immortal Physique.
"...Harem is 'troublesome,' huh," he muttered to himself, a sharp grin cutting across his face as he stared at the stars. "What a joke. Troublesome is fun."
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the power of his five Fate Palaces rotating invisibly behind his soul like planets orbiting a sun. They were hungry. They wanted to expand.
Tomorrow, they would enter the Iron Forest. He would tear the cores from ancient Wyverns, bathe in their chaotic energy, and force his cultivation forward. He would drag this team of devils through the mud and fire until they shone like diamonds.
He closed his eyes briefly, letting the Asgardian wind run its fingers through his dark hair.
"...Alright," he whispered to the night, his voice filled with absolute, unshakeable confidence. "Let's build this empire."