Gladsheim's guest wing was quiet. Too quiet, considering the absolute madness of the last eight days.
The Asgardian staff had retreated in a flurry of bowed heads and nervous eyes, leaving behind trays of food, hot water, and fresh clothes before vanishing.
Rossweisse had herded the Gremory peerage into their rooms with the efficiency of a terrified valkyrie, issuing strict instructions to "rest properly" before she collapsed somewhere herself.
Ren Ming, however, wasn't sleeping.
He had checked each of them personally first. He had placed his hand over their dantians, his Heavenly Gaze sweeping through their inner worlds. Their Soul Palaces were stable, rotating with a rhythmic hum. There were no cracks in their cultivation bases, no lingering backlash from the Tribulation Lightning that had nearly turned the Norse pantheon into a parking lot.
Only after confirming they were safe did Ren finally allow himself to flop down on the wide stone railing of the balcony.
Below him, the Hall of Gladsheim stretched out like a sleeping beast. Beyond that, the roots of Yggdrasil glowed with a bioluminescent hum, casting long, alien shadows across the realm of the gods. The air here was thick, rich with a density that would crush a mortal flat, but to Ren, it just tasted like ozone and old magic.
He took a long pull from a bottle of Asgardian mead he'd "borrowed" from the feast hall. It burned going down, a pleasant fire that settled in his gut.
"Wild eight days," he muttered to the empty air.
The silence of the night was heavy, but it was a good heavy. It was the silence of a predator digesting a meal. The Ancient Ming Bloodline hummed in his veins, a low, thrumming vibration. It was content for now, having devoured the chaotic energies of the recent battle, refining the raw power of a god's erasure into pure, usable essence.
The door behind him slid open. A soft click, barely audible over the wind.
"Ren."
He didn't need to turn. He knew that aura. It was a familiar crimson pressure, heavy and destructive. Eight days ago, it had been a leaky faucet, bleeding power into the atmosphere. Now? It was tight. Controlled. A dormant volcano waiting for a command.
"Yo," Ren said, keeping his eyes on the glowing roots of the World Tree. "Can't sleep?"
Rias Gremory stepped out onto the balcony. The cold Asgardian night air rushed to meet her, catching the loose strands of her crimson hair. She had changed into a simple robe of Devil silk, deep blue, which only made her pale skin look more porcelain under the starlight.
She walked up beside him, placing her hands on the railing. Her knuckles were white.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the distant hum of the World Tree.
"…It feels like a dream," Rias said quietly. Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor underneath, like the ground shaking before an earthquake. "Eight days ago, we were in Kuoh. I was being forced into a marriage I didn't want. I was desperate enough to ask a stranger for help."
She exhaled a soft laugh, devoid of humor.
"And now…" She looked at her hands. "Now that same stranger erased a god in front of his own pantheon and swapped contact info with my brother like it was nothing."
Ren swirled the mead in his bottle. "Regretting it?" he asked lightly. "Hiring the chaos gremlin from out of nowhere?"
"Not once," Rias replied instantly.
The conviction in her voice made him look at her.
Her face was flushed from the cold, but her eyes—blue-green like the deepest parts of the ocean—were steel. They were sharper than they had been eight days ago. The helplessness that had haunted her, the look of a trapped animal, had been burned away in the fires of his training.
"Ren," Rias said softly. "I… came to say thank you."
He snorted, taking another sip. "You already did that. Like, ten times. It's getting old, Princess."
"This is… different."
She swallowed hard. She turned to face him fully, her crimson hair spilling over her shoulder like a waterfall of blood.
"Ren," she said, her voice shaking now, betraying the storm inside her. "I like you."
There it was.
No coyness. No anime stumbling. No "it's not like I like you or anything."
Rias Gremory, Heiress of the Gremory Clan, one of the 72 Pillars, stared at him with all the courage she had forged in the Iron Forest.
"I like you as a man," she continued, stepping closer. The air around her began to vibrate with the sheer intensity of her emotion. "Not just as a teacher. Not just as a savior. These eight days… every time you pushed me until I thought my soul would crack, and then pulled me back… every time you looked at me and saw a Queen, not a prize to be won…"
Her hands trembled, reaching out but stopping inches from him.
"Somewhere in there, I stopped just being grateful," she confessed. "I started wanting to stay by your side. Not as your student. As… your woman."
She bit her lip, cheeks burning scarlet.
"…Even if I know I'm not the only one," she whispered, the words rushing out now. "Even if Akeno… and the others… feel the same. Even if you gather more. I still—I want to be special to you. Not just one of many. That's selfish, I know, but…"
Ren let her talk. He could feel her Soul Palace trembling with each word. Her aura, the Throne of Ruin, flickered between pride and terrifying vulnerability.
When she finally ran out of words, she stood there, eyes glossy, chest heaving, waiting for the executioner's axe.
Ren simply smiled.
Honestly, he knew this was coming. He could have pushed for it earlier. He already admitted he romantically liked them just a day ago.
But Ren Ming didn't operate like that. He believed that feelings, like cultivation, needed to be consolidated. If they didn't come out and say it on their own, without his pressure, the foundation would be unstable.
It was the accumulation of these past eight days—the tribulation, the erasure of Loki, the meeting with Ophis. It had been the final tipping point.
"Rias," he said.
She flinched.
"If you're expecting some noble speech about how I'll only ever love one woman," he said bluntly, his voice cutting through the cold air, "you knocked on the wrong balcony."
Her shoulders twitched, a flash of pain crossing her eyes.
"But."
He pushed himself off the railing. He stepped into her space.
The pressure of his own cultivation—the Nine Star Eternal Prestige—rolled off him in a gentle wave, wrapping around her shivering form. He raised a hand and tucked a strand of crimson hair behind her ear.
"I like you too," he said.
Her breath hitched, a small, strangled sound.
"From day one," Ren continued, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "From the first time I barged into your clubroom and smacked down Riser. From the way you still worried about your peerage even when your own freedom was on the line. From the way you picked yourself up every time I knocked you into the dirt during training and came back harder."
He wiped away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.
"You're not just pretty," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "You're you. Rias Gremory. A Queen who is just starting to realize how scary she can be. That's hot."
Her face went nuclear. "Ren…"
"I'm not gonna lie to you," he went on, his tone shifting to that casual, 2020s frankness. "I'm not the 'one woman only' type. I'm a greedy man. I like women. I like a lively house. If someone special comes into my orbit and we click, I'm not going to pretend otherwise just to fit some fairy tale romance novel ideal."
Her eyes flickered with pain for a heartbeat, but she didn't look away.
"But," Ren said, and his eyes hardened, shifting from casual to the Ancient Saint. "I also don't do half-assed."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers.
"If you decide to walk this road with me," he said quietly, "I will make sure you never feel like 'one of many.' I'll make you feel like Rias. My Rias. When I'm with you, I'm with you. Your insecurities, your jealousy, your dreams, your stubbornness—I'll deal with all of it head-on. Like I told you before, I won't run away from the work just because there's more than one of you. I like the chaos."
Her fingers clenched into his shirt, twisting the fabric.
"You'll… really do that?" she whispered. "Even if I get jealous? Even if I cry? Even if I… fight with the others?"
He smiled, a slow, genuine thing that reached his eyes.
"Bring it on," he said. "I love when things are lively."
He tilted her chin up with his thumb.
"And for the record," he added, "you already are special to me. Not because you're the 'first' or the 'Queen' or whatever. Because you're Rias Gremory. The girl who stepped into Valhalla and made an Ultimate-Class warrior kneel just by existing. I'd have to be blind not to love that."
Her eyes overflowed.
"Idiot," she whispered, half-sob, half-laugh. "You say such embarrassing things so easily…"
"Comes with being from a more straightforward society," he said lightly. "We overshare."
He kissed her.
It wasn't the chaste forehead touches he'd given during training. This was real. He kissed her slow and deep, tasting of mead and ozone and relief.
Rias melted. The tension leaving her body was almost physical. Her hands slid up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. The Ruin Princess, who had carried the weight of her clan's expectations since birth, allowed herself—for the first time—to lean entirely on someone else.
When they finally parted, she rested her head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady thud of his heart.
"…I'm happy," she murmured into his shirt. "So happy it scares me."
"Good," Ren said, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "Get used to it. I'm planning to keep making you feel that way."
They stood there for a long time, the Ancient Saint and the Ruin Princess, watching the alien stars spin overhead.
...
Later that night, after he'd walked Rias back to her room and made sure she didn't spontaneously combust from embarrassment, Ren headed toward his own quarters. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the satisfied hum of his Hell Suppressing Immortal Physique.
He didn't make it to his door.
Bzzt.
Lightning flickered in the corridor ahead. A faint, violet sheen that smelled of rain and static. It wasn't aggressive, but it was heavy, carrying the weight of a storm that had been held back for too long.
"Ara, ara…"
Akeno Himejima stepped out from a side passage.
She had ditched the shrine maiden outfit for a dark yukata, the collar loose enough to be inviting but tight enough to leave questions. Her black hair fell in a glossy curtain down her back, and her violet eyes were half-lidded, shimmering with that familiar teasing light.
"Ren-sama," she purred. "Out for a stroll at this hour?"
Ren smiled. His life was definitely getting livelier.
"What's up, Sparky?" he asked, keeping his tone casual.
She laughed softly, but the sound was brittle. There was tension in her shoulders that her relaxed posture couldn't quite hide.
"Will you walk with me?" she asked. "Just a little. There's… something I want to show you."
He shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Lead the way."
She led him up one of Gladsheim's smaller exterior stairways, winding up toward a high balcony that overlooked the distant aurora and the dark, jagged silhouette of the Iron Forest.
The wind here was biting, but Akeno's aura was warm. Too warm. Like a fever.
She leaned against the railing, her back to him, looking out at the void.
For a long moment, she said nothing. The silence stretched, filled only by the crackle of static electricity jumping between her fingers.
"Ren-sama," she said quietly, not turning around. "Do you remember, the first time we trained with the Myriad Origin Scripture… when you told us that all of our 'waste' could be turned into strength?"
"Yeah," he said. "I remember."
"You told me," Akeno went on, her voice barely a whisper, "that I was still… leaking. That I was wasting 90% of myself."
She smiled faintly, a sad expression that he could hear in her voice.
"Not Touki. Not mana. But… me."
Ren didn't interrupt. He leaned against the stone wall, crossing his arms.
"I've always split myself," she confessed. "Himejima Akeno, the 'Ara ara' devil princess. Himejima Akeno, the filth of a Fallen Angel. Loyal Queen, unfilial daughter. I thought if I picked one, the other would hate me. So I kept both at arm's length. I wore masks until I forgot which one was real."
Violet lightning crackled at her fingertips, dancing across the stone rail.
"These eight days, you kept tearing them off," she whispered. "You praised me when I fought. You scolded me when I hid. You looked at my sadism and didn't flinch. You looked at my kindness and didn't laugh. You saw all of me, and you never once said 'Choose.'"
Finally, she turned.
Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Her smile was small, naked, stripped of all the teasing artifices she used as armor.
"I like you, Ren-sama," she said. "As a woman. As Akeno. All of me."
She took a slow, shuddering breath.
"And… I wanted you to see this."
The air pressure on the balcony plummeted.
Darkness spilled into existence behind her like ink poured into clear water. It wasn't the darkness of evil; it was the darkness of the void, heavy and profound.
Her Fallen Angel wings unfolded.
One… two… six.
Glossy, obsidian feathers reflected the strange Asgardian light. They were magnificent, carrying the ancient, sorrowful grace of the Grigori. For years, she had hidden these, hating them, seeing them as the mark of the man who couldn't save her mother.
She trembled slightly, her eyes locked on Ren's face, waiting for the disgust. Waiting for the rejection.
"This is me too," Akeno said, her voice cracking. "If you accept me… you have to accept this as well. The half that hates. The half that remembers. The half that… enjoys hurting those who hurt us. The half that resents my father. The half that does not forgive easily."
Ren looked at her. Really looked at her.
He didn't see a monster. He didn't see a tragic backstory.
He saw energy.
With his Immortal Soul Bone active, he saw the complex flow of her existence. He saw the Holy Lightning trying to reject the Fallen darkness, and the Fallen darkness trying to consume the Devil mana. It was a chaotic, beautiful mess.
He pushed off the wall.
Without a word, he walked up to her. He didn't stop until he was inches away.
He reached out and, without a shred of hesitation, plunged his hand into the black feathers of her left wing.
Akeno gasped, her whole body stiffening.
The feathers were warm. Soft. They hummed with a power that resonated with his Myriad Origin Scripture.
"Beautiful," he said.
Akeno blinked, tears spilling over. "Eh?"
"Your wings," he said simply, stroking the obsidian plumage. "They're beautiful. And very you. Lightning, devils, fallen… sexy murder-bird aesthetic. I dig it."
Her breath caught in her throat. "Ren-sama…"
"Listen," he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that pinned her in place. "I'm not here to sanitize you, Akeno. I don't want some fake, pure version of you who never gets angry and never enjoys blasting someone who deserves it. If you weren't a little twisted, you wouldn't be Akeno."
He cupped her cheek with his other hand, his thumb wiping away a tear.
"You're sadistic sometimes," he listed off, casual as ordering lunch. "You like seeing enemies suffer. You've got massive trauma with your dad. You're carrying way too much guilt for shit that wasn't your fault. All of that? I accept it. We'll work through it. Together. Slowly. No rush."
He leaned closer.
"The Myriad Origin Scripture turns waste into power, right? All that pain, all that resentment you've been holding onto… give it to me. Or use it. Fuel your cultivation with it. Don't hide it."
Her eyes overflowed silently, the violet light in them trembling.
"And when you smile for real," Ren said softy, "like you do when Asia does something cute, or when Issei says something stupid, or when your lightning finally does exactly what you wanted… that smile is worth all the thunder."
She laughed. It was a broken, wet sound, but it was the most genuine thing he'd heard all night.
"You…" she choked out.
She launched herself at him.
He caught her easily, his arms wrapping around her waist as she buried her face in his shoulder. Her black wings curled forward, wrapping around them both like a protective cocoon, shutting out the rest of the world.
"Is it really okay?" she sobbed into his shirt. "Even if I get jealous? Even if I want you all to myself sometimes? Even if I… hurt people more than I have to?"
"Yeah," Ren said, stroking the back of her head. "It's okay. I'm not fragile, Sparky. And I'll be watching. You go too far, I'll bonk you on the head. You get jealous, we talk it out. Maybe we make out about it. You want me all to yourself sometimes?" He chuckled, the vibration rumbling against her chest. "I'm down. I've got enough time to go around."
She pulled back just enough to look into his face. Her eyes were red-rimmed but shining with a fierce, possessive light.
"Ara, ara," she whispered, smiling through her tears. "You're very unfair, Ren-sama. Saying such things with a straight face…"
"What, you want me to be shy?" he snorted. "Not happening."
She kissed him.
It was nothing like Rias's kiss. Hers was hot, sharp, and tasted of electricity. A tiny arc of Holy Lightning jumped between their lips, stinging pleasantly. It was dangerous. It was hungry.
Ren didn't pull back. He deepened it, one hand sliding down her spine, fingers tracing the sensitive base of her wings.
Akeno shivered hard, a small whimper escaping into his mouth. The Myriad Origin Lightning inside her flared, resonating with his bloodline, a circuit finally completing itself.
When they broke apart, she was panting lightly, her cheeks bright pink, her eyes blown wide.
"You really accept it," she murmured, looking at her own wings as if seeing them for the first time. "All of it…"
"Told you," he said, grinning. "I don't find harems 'troublesome'. I like the work. I like figuring out what makes each of you tick and leaning into it. People who complain about this stuff just have bad time management."
She laughed helplessly, her head dropping back to his chest.
"You're impossible," she said.
"You love it," he replied.
"…Yes," she admitted. "I do."
They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in Fallen wings and quiet thunderstorms, two monsters finding peace in the chaos.
...
Ren Ming lay silently on a thick branch of Yggdrasil, high above the guest quarters. He gazed up at the shifting tapestry of the Asgardian sky.
He felt… absurdly good.
It was like his soul had eaten a five-star meal. His Fate Palace was rotating smoothly, the energies of the day settling into a potent reserve.
"Rias, Akeno…" he muttered, staring at the stars. "Damn."
A giddy, stupid grin kept trying to creep onto his face. It was embarrassing. He shoved it down, but it kept coming back.
He let it happen.
"Harem trouble, huh?" he snorted to himself. "Can't relate."
He thought of all the stories he'd read back in his old world—the 2020s on Earth. Protagonists whining about their harems like affection was a burden. Clueless fools bumbling around women's feelings because they were indecisive or bound by some hypocritical moral code.
Idiots.
If you were lucky enough to have multiple amazing women care about you—women who could level cities with a wave of their hand—you put in the effort. Full stop. You talk to them. You listen. You check in. You adjust. You be present.
Ren's mind drifted to the people standing behind his girls.
"Sirzechs is probably going to want a word," he muttered, clasping his hands behind his head. "Big brother mode. 'What are your intentions with my sister?' That kind of thing."
Ren's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Respect is earned, not given," he said to the empty night. "I'll treat him fine if he treats me fine. He seems chill enough. But those older devils… the Council… if they throw a fit, that's their problem, not mine."
The thought brought a cold edge to his relaxed demeanor. Ren Ming was a casual guy, sure. He liked funny videos and hanging out with friends. But he was also the inheritor of the Ancient Ming Bloodline. He didn't bend the knee.
He'd always hated that dynamic. In shows and in real life. People forced to grovel for the approval of some future in-law whose main contribution was being loud and entitled.
If you wanted the best for your family? Fine. But demanding instant, unearned respect like it was a tax… that was bullshit.
"They want to yell, they can," he decided. "I'm not bending over backwards to impress someone just because I'm dating their family. Either they learn to love me, or they learn to tolerate me. Or I stomp them."
His thoughts shifted to Baraqiel.
He hadn't sensed the Fallen Angel cadre anywhere near Akeno tonight. The man was keeping his distance, probably afraid of triggering her trauma.
"At least he knows when to back off," Ren mused.
He closed his eyes, the Nine Star Eternal Prestige forming a protective barrier around his mind.
"Whatever," he muttered, the sleep finally catching up to him. "Let them come. I'll be busy making their daughters happy."
Sleep came easier than he expected. And for the first time in a long time, Ren Ming didn't dream of battles or cultivation. He dreamed of lightning and starlight.
...
The morning after was crisp, silent, and heavy with the ancient power of the North.
Asgard's sky did not behave like the sky of the Human World. There was no true sunrise here; instead, the strange, shifting half-light of the dimension filtered through the colossal, emerald canopy of Yggdrasil. The World Tree's branches were so vast they constituted the horizon itself, casting shifting patterns of runic shadows across the stone courtyards of Gladsheim.
Ren Ming woke early. It was a habit from a life he had left behind in the 2020s, now reinforced by a body that defied the laws of physics.
His feet carried him instinctively toward one of the smaller, auxiliary shrines attached to the main hall of Gladsheim. It was a quiet alcove of white stone and gold inlay, mostly used by visiting Valkyries to make quick offerings to Odin.
But today, it was occupied.
He heard the soft, rhythmic murmur of prayer before he saw her.
Asia Argento knelt before a small, unadorned altar. Her hands were clasped tightly around a rosary, her knuckles white. She wore a simple white dress and a borrowed cloak to ward off the Asgardian chill, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of sunlight.
Her shoulders were shaking.
Ren leaned against a marble pillar, crossing his arms. He didn't mask his presence, but he didn't announce it either. He simply watched. The energy around her was fluctuating—her Twilight Healing was reacting to her emotional state, sending pulses of soft green light rippling through the air.
"You know," Ren said, his voice cutting through the silence with a mild, conversational drawl, "if you pray that hard, the local gods might actually show up. Then things get awkward. Odin is a busy guy, and I don't think he does requests on Thursdays."
Asia jumped as if she'd been electrocuted. A small, undignified yelp escaped her throat as she scrambled to turn around, clutching the rosary to her chest.
"R-Ren-san!" she squeaked, her green eyes wide and watery. "I—I'm sorry! Did I wake you? I was just—I didn't mean to—"
"Relax," Ren said, pushing off the pillar and walking over. His gait was loose, unhurried. "You're fine. Nobody's awake but us and the ravens."
He sat down on the cold stone steps beside her, ignoring the formality of the setting. He leaned back on his hands, looking at her with a tilted head.
"So, what's up?" he asked. "You look like someone stole your pudding cup from the fridge. And I know it wasn't me, because I prefer chocolate."
Asia stared at him, her panic slowly melting into a flustered blush. She looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting anxiously in the beads of her rosary.
For once, Ren didn't push with a joke or a tease. He just waited, his presence a warm, solid weight beside her.
"…These eight days," Asia said finally, her voice so small it was almost lost to the wind. "They have been… like a miracle."
She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"I was always… the one who was protected," she whispered. "The one who was saved. Rias-oneesama saved me. Issei-san saved me. Even before that, in the Church… I was just a tool to be guarded or used. Everyone always stood in front of me."
She clenched her hands.
"But in the Iron Forest… in Gladsheim… with your training…" She looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I could protect them, Ren-san. With the Twilight Saturation technique you taught me… I didn't just heal. I controlled the flow. I could suppress the battlefield. I could neutralize enemies without killing them. I felt… powerful."
A tremor ran through her.
"I felt useful," she choked out. "Truly, deeply, for the first time in my life."
Ren studied her. He didn't see a weak nun. He saw a cultivator in the making. Her Soul Palace was already 60% condensed—a rate of growth that would terrify a devil.
He smiled, a genuine, crooked thing.
"That's because you are useful," he said. "You're the heart of the team, Asia. You think Rias or Issei would dare to go that wild if they didn't know you were watching their backs? You're not just a battery pack anymore. You're the safety net."
She took a trembling breath.
"And you…" she whispered. "You looked at me and you saw that. You didn't just pat my head and tell me I was kind. You didn't treat me like fragile glass. You trained me. You scolded me when my focus drifted. You praised me when I mastered the Reliquary art. You… believed I could be more than just a victim."
She turned to face him fully now. The shyness was still there, but beneath it was a core of steel that she had forged in the fires of his training.
"Ren-san," Asia said, her voice shaking but clear. "I… I like you."
Her face burned a brilliant crimson, but she didn't look away.
"I like you as a man," she continued, the words tumbling out faster now. "The way you smile when you see us succeed. The way you are strict but gentle. The way you talk—so strange and casual, but always honest. I know I am not as strong as Rias-oneesama or as seductive as Akeno-san. I know I am selfish to feel this way when you already have them, but…"
She pressed a hand over her heart, as if trying to keep it from beating out of her chest.
"I want to stay by your side," she whispered. "As your… girlfriend. If you will have me."
Ren Ming kept his expression cool, the relaxed mask of a guy who'd seen it all.
But internally?
Damn.
He couldn't suppress the surge of warmth in his chest. It was one thing to be pursued by powerful devils; it was another to be looked at with such raw, unadulterated adoration by someone as pure as Asia.
He reached out and gently took her free hand, peeling her white-knuckled fingers away from the rosary so he could hold them properly. His hand was large, rough, and warm against hers.
"Asia," he said softly. "You know I've already said yes to Rias and Akeno, right? I'm not exactly a one-woman kind of guy. It's gonna be crowded."
She nodded fast, eyes glistening.
"I-I know," she stammered. "And I know there will be many more. You are… you are too kind, too bright, too strong. People will always flock to you like moths to a flame. I… I get jealous, thinking about it. I want to be special to you too, not just the 'little sister' everyone protects."
He squeezed her hand, leaning in slightly.
"You're allowed to be jealous," he said firmly. "You're allowed to want that. It doesn't make you selfish, Asia. It makes you, you."
He shifted, turning his body toward her, giving her his full attention.
"Asia," he said. "I like you too. And not just because you're cute."
Her eyes widened.
"You're stupidly brave," he said, his tone admiring. "You were thrown out by your own church, labeled a witch, and you still didn't stop loving people. You learned a combat style that forces you into the thick of danger just so you can protect your friends better. That's crazy. I respect crazy."
She sniffled, a small smile breaking through.
"And I like how you smile after a job well done," he added. "That soft, relieved look you get when everyone is upright and breathing. It makes all the headaches worth it."
"Ren-san…"
"As your boyfriend," he went on, dropping the casual slang for a moment, his voice deepening, "I'll do my best to make sure you never feel like you're just the healer in the back. I'll pay attention. I'll drag you to the front when you try to hide. I'll make sure you get your own time, your own memories, your own 'just us' moments."
He smiled, that relaxed, charming grin that made him look less like an Ancient Saint and more like the boy next door.
"Basically," he said, "if you're okay sharing, I'll make sure you never feel pushed to the side. That's a promise."
Tears finally spilled over, rolling down her cheeks.
"Ren-san…" she whispered.
"Is that a yes?" he asked.
She nodded hard, her veil fluttering.
"Yes!" she blurted out. "I—I want that! I want… to be your girlfriend!"
He laughed softly and pulled her into a hug.
She clung to him immediately, burying her face in his chest, sobbing quietly—not from sadness, but from a relief so profound it felt like a weight lifting from her soul.
When she'd calmed down a bit, he pulled back and gently wiped her wet cheeks with his thumb.
"Alright," he said, teasingly. "New rule. No crying in shrines unless it's happy tears. Got it? The gods get confused."
She giggled wetly. "O-Okay…"
He leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't the hungry, fiery kiss he shared with Rias, nor the seductive, teasing interplay with Akeno. It was soft, careful, and sweet—like a promise sealed in sunlight.
Asia's eyes went wide, then fluttered closed. When they opened again, they were shining brighter than any halo.
"…I'll do my best," she whispered. "To be worthy of you."
"You already are," he replied effortlessly.
...
Ren kept his word.
The day was officially declared a "rest day" for the Gremory peerage.
Rossweisse, the silver-haired Valkyrie who took her job far too seriously, had drawn up a terrifyingly detailed schedule filled with blocks for "mana meditation," "light stretching," and "ward maintenance."
Ren had taken one look at it, crumpled it into a ball, and bounced it off Issei's forehead.
"We'll do cultivation later," he said, dismissing the schedule with a wave of his hand. "First, let your brains reset. You guys are wound tighter than a snare drum."
He spent the morning roaming the guest wing of Gladsheim, checking on everyone, occasionally dragging them out of their rooms for food, fresh air, and badly needed normal conversation.
Of course, "normal" for Ren Ming was relative.
By midday, most of Asgard's staff, a few lurking minor gods, and a very stressed Rossweisse got to witness the following spectacle:
Ren walking down the grand corridor with Asia happily hugging his arm on one side, Rias clinging possessively to the other, and Akeno pressed close behind him, her arms looped casually around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder as she walked in lockstep.
He wasn't flaunting it. He wasn't doing a victory lap. He just… wasn't hiding anything.
When Rias pulled him into a side room to ask a quiet question about her Throne of Ruin technique, he went without complaint. When Asia tugged his sleeve to show him a small shrine garden that reminded her of home, he followed with a smile. When Akeno leaned up to whisper something scandalous in his ear, he laughed—a rich, deep sound—and whispered back without pushing her away.
To outsiders, it was shameless. To the high-society devils, it was a scandal waiting to happen.
To Ren, it was just Tuesday.
In a corner of the corridor, Rossweisse nearly short-circuited.
She stood frozen, clutching her clipboard like a shield. Her face was bright red as she watched him casually pat Asia's head, praise Rias for her leadership, and tease Akeno about getting too clingy—all with a relaxed, confident smile that made it clear he wasn't overwhelmed. He was enjoying it.
"T-This is… improper," Rossweisse muttered, her voice rising in pitch. "Absolutely improper! To so openly… with that many… public displays of affection in the halls of the Aesir! The dehydration risk alone… The Gremory heiress, the shrine maiden, the fallen priestess…"
Her pen snapped in her grip with a sharp crack.
She glared at the broken plastic as if it had personally betrayed her.
"Why is it," she grumbled, a dark aura of loneliness manifesting behind her, "that even the Devils are getting boyfriends before me? I have a pension plan! I have steady employment! What does he have? Good vibes?!"
She stomped off to adjust the warding circles with unnecessary, violent force.
Ren, passing by, watched her retreating back with a bemused expression.
"…That one's going to explode someday," he murmured to Akeno. "Ah well. I'll be right there to catch her when she does. For now, let her vent."
He checked his mental headcount. Rias, Akeno, Asia, Issei, Kiba…
He paused.
"Where's the tiny tank?"
He hadn't seen Koneko for an hour. That was unusual. The white-haired Rook was usually glued to the group, silently eating snacks in his periphery.
Ren let his senses stretch. He didn't use magic; he used the Myriad Origin Scripture to taste the energy in the air. He felt the threads of power running through Yggdrasil.
There.
Deep below. A familiar Touki. Calm, focused, but strained.
He smirked.
"Found you."
He followed the thread of energy down, past the main halls, into the roots of the World Tree. The air here was thicker, heavy with the pressure of the earth and the ancient wood.
He arrived at a lower training courtyard carved directly into the trunk of a massive root. The space was vast, dimly lit by luminescent moss.
In the center, Koneko Toujou stood in a loose stance.
But the atmosphere around her was terrifying.
She wasn't just standing there. She was warring with the space around her.
Her body was wrapped in a thick, dense cocoon of Touki that was far more refined than it had been a week ago. The Myriad Origin Scripture was cycling through her meridians, not as a gentle stream, but as a raging river of mercury. It resonated with her Senjutsu, pulling the natural energy of Asgard into her small frame and compressing it until her body felt like a collapsed star.
And she was taller.
Only a bit—three, four centimeters maybe—but to Ren's sharpened eyes, it was obvious. Her limbs looked slightly longer, her proportions shifting out of "childlike" and toward "teen." Her Nekomata nature was responding to the combined pressure of the Immutable Core art and her own emotional upheaval.
Ren leaned against the rough bark of the entrance, crossing his arms. He didn't intervene. He wanted to see this.
Koneko moved.
It wasn't a speed movement. It was a distortion.
She stepped forward, and the stone floor beneath her didn't crack—it sank, compressed by sheer gravitational force. She punched the air.
BOOM!
The sound wasn't a woosh; it was the thunderclap of a vacuum collapsing. A shockwave of pure white Touki blasted forward, tearing a trench through the solid wood of the training dummy twenty meters away. The air shimmered with heat.
She went through a sequence: breath, step, strike, release. Each motion was deliberate, heavy with intent that could crush a tank.
She exhaled, a long stream of white steam escaping her lips, and let the Touki simmer down.
Ren clapped once. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room.
Koneko jumped, her ears twitching violently. She spun around, golden eyes wide.
"…Ren-sensei," she said, her deadpan tone only slightly betrayed by the furious pink coloring the tips of her ears. "Don't sneak up on people."
"You sensed me," Ren pointed out, walking into the light. "You just pretended you didn't because you wanted to finish the set. It was a good set, by the way. Your Soul Palace is synchronizing with your Senjutsu. You're hitting like a meteorite."
She looked away, scuffing her shoe against the floor.
"…Maybe."
He walked over, circling her once, taking in the changes. The energy rolling off her was dense, high-quality.
"You've grown," he noted.
Her shoulders twitched.
"…It's Senjutsu," she muttered, pulling at her gloves. "You said… if I used it properly, with the Scripture… my body would finally stop being stuck. So I… worked hard."
She clenched her fists, the leather creaking.
"Because I don't want you to keep seeing me as a kid," she blurted out, the words rushing past her stoic defense. "I… I don't want to be just the 'mascot.' I don't want to be the pet. I want to stand next to you. I want you to look at me properly."
Ren Ming had wondered when her growth spurt would start. Whether it would be during her cultivation breakthrough or when she finally accepted her Nekomata side. It seemed the combination of the two was already working wonders.
"These days have just been full of surprises, eh?" He smiled lightly, hands in his pockets.
Koneko glared up at him, her golden eyes fierce and unyielding.
"I like you," she said flatly. No stuttering, no hesitation. Just a fact, heavy as the stones she pulverized.
"As a man. I liked you before we came here. I liked you when you dragged me out of my own head and made me punch a giant in the kneecap. I liked you when you patted my head and said you were proud of me. I liked you when you erased a god like you were stepping on a bug."
Her white tail materialized, flicking restlessly behind her.
"I know Rias-senpai, Akeno-senpai, Asia-senpai… already said it," she went on, her cat ears flattening slightly against her white hair. "I know I'm small. I know I don't talk much. I get jealous easily. I get angry if someone takes my snacks. I… I'm not good at saying cute things like they do."
She lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her like heat.
"But I still want you to choose me too," she finished. "Even if it's all together. I want to be your girlfriend."
Ren stared at her for a heartbeat. The sheer intensity of this tiny girl was enough to crack a lesser man.
Then he snorted.
"You all really decided to take turns ambushing me, huh?" he chuckled. "No coordination, just vibes. I respect the hustle."
Koneko's lips twitched.
"…Is that a no?" she asked quietly, the fierceness wavering for just a second.
He stepped forward and flicked her forehead.
Thwack.
"Ow." She rubbed the spot, blinking.
"No," he said. "That's a 'stop being dumb.'"
He stepped closer, towering over her, and placed a hand gently on top of her head. His fingers threaded through her soft white hair, scratching lightly behind the cat ears.
"Koneko," he said, his voice dropping to a low, serious rumble. "I've always seen you."
She blinked, looking up at him.
"From the first training session," he continued. "The way you gritted your teeth and took hits from monsters ten times your size without whining. The way you kept showing up even when the exercises scared you. The way you loosened up when I praised you and pretended you didn't like it."
His hand slid down to rest on her shoulder, warm and firm.
"You're not a mascot," he said firmly. "You're an anchor. The team leans on you more than they realize. When you're steady, they relax. When you get serious, they shut up and follow. You ground them."
Her cheeks went pinker, glowing in the dim light.
"And yeah," he added, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I noticed the growth spurt. It looks good on you. But I'd think you were attractive even if you stayed small. Because I like you, Koneko. Not just your height, not just your punches."
Koneko's ears twitched violently.
"…Pervert," she mumbled, looking down. But her tail uncoiled from her leg and swayed happily.
He chuckled.
"You want in?" he said. "Then you're in. I'm not gonna push you away just because things might get messy or complicated. I'll make time for you like I will for Rias, Akeno, and Asia. When you get jealous, we'll talk it out. When you get insecure, I'll remind you how dangerous you are."
He rapped his knuckles lightly on her chest, right over her heart.
"And I'll be here," he said. "All of you. Human, youkai, cat, cultivator. I accept it. No returns."
She stared up at him, golden eyes wide and shimmering.
"…You really don't think it's too much trouble?" she asked softly. "Taking care of all our feelings? Dealing with… me?"
He shrugged.
"Honestly?" he said. "I'm happier than I thought I'd be. It's a flavor that can't be matched by anything else—one that I'll never forget deep in my soul. Why would I trade that for a quiet life?"
Her lips slowly curved into a small, genuine smile—rare and beautiful.
"…Idiot," she said again, but this time it was affectionate, soft as velvet.
He bent down and kissed her.
She stiffened for a heartbeat, surprised, then relaxed. Her small hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as she kissed back. Her Touki flared instinctively, wrapping around them in a warm, dense cocoon of white light, isolating them from the world.
When they separated, she pressed her forehead against his chest, hiding her face. Her ears were burning red.
"…I'm happy," she muttered into his shirt. "But if you flirt too much with other girls in front of me, I'll punch you."
He laughed, the sound bouncing off the cavern walls.
"Deal," he said. "Just don't break my ribs. I need those."
"No promises," she replied, her voice muffled but smug.
...
By the time the Asgardian sun-path had shifted toward late afternoon, Ren had, without really planning it, accumulated four girlfriends.
He didn't walk around thinking, I am collecting women like Pokémon. He didn't care how others see what he's doing.
He just moved through the day more deliberately—more attentive.
If Rias frowned slightly when Akeno clung too much, he made sure to pull Rias for her own private moment later, giving her space to air it out. If Asia hesitated before reaching for his hand because someone else was already holding onto him, he noticed and adjusted, shifting his stance so she could join without feeling like an intruder. If Koneko's ears flattened at a comment, he made a mental note to talk to her later.
He laughed more easily. Teased more gently. Listened more.
And somewhere deep in the Underworld, in the sparkling heights of Heaven, and in the swirling chaos of the Dimensional Gap, the heavy hitters were watching. Gods, dragons, and reapers were all frantically re-writing their plans, adjusting for a singularity they hadn't predicted.
A man from seemingly out of nowhere who had decided, very simply, to live as he pleased.
He would train his students. He would break the game. He would love his women. And he would crush anything—god, devil, or dragon—that dared to get in the way.