Ren Ming turned away from Zekram Bael without a second glance. To him, the Great King of the Bael Clan—a figure who commanded fear across the seventy-two pillars—was no different than a roadside stone. Ren caught Rias' eye.
She was flushed. A chaotic mix of anger, worry, and a lingering, trembling sense of relief.
"Hey," Ren said, his voice dropping to that smooth, casual cadence that felt distinctly out of place in the archaic atmosphere of the Underworld. "Go hang out with your family."
"Ren..."
"You've earned it, Princess." He bumped her shoulder lightly with his fist—a gesture of American camaraderie amidst stiff nobility. "Eat, brag a little, let your mom fuss over you. This is you guys' win. Own it."
Her gaze softened, the tension in her shoulders melting away like snow under a spring sun.
"What about you?" Akeno stepped closer, her violet eyes searching his face with a mixture of allure and genuine concern. "How will you spend the evening, Ren-sensei?"
Issei leaned in, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, Sensei. Aren't you gonna enjoy the noble feast? There's like, mountains of food. Seriously, mountains."
Ren made a face, wrinkling his nose.
"Stuffy nobles, political maneuvering, and small talk about bloodline purity?" He shook his head, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "If I can't actually enjoy myself, why bother? I'm not here to play nice with people who think they run the world."
Asia blinked, her hands clasped anxiously. "…U-Um…"
He laughed, a warm, resonant sound, and ruffled her hair.
"I'll be out and about," he said. "Could be a garden, could be a rooftop, could be somewhere completely different. If you want to join me, you know how to find me."
Rias frowned faintly, her demonic senses flaring. "…By sensing your aura?"
"Closer." He tapped a fingertip lightly over her heart. "Follow the loop. Your Soul Palaces are tuned to my method. The Myriad Origin Scripture inside you acts like a compass. If I don't actively hide from the Heavens, you'll feel where I am."
Koneko's ears twitched, her golden eyes dilating slightly.
"…Like following a warm spot in winter," she murmured.
"Exactly."
He stepped back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His posture was loose, utterly relaxed, yet he occupied the space with the weight of a mountain.
"Go on," he said. "Be the Gremory heiress for a bit. I'll catch you later."
He turned and slipped into the crowd. He didn't push through; he simply walked, and the crowd seemed to unconsciously part around him, as if reality itself bent to accommodate his stride. His coat swayed lazily behind him, a banner of absolute freedom.
Behind him, Rias watched his back for a long moment. She exhaled, squared her shoulders, and turned toward her parents.
Tonight, she would bask in victory.
Later, the beautiful chaos he promised would begin.
...
It was late when the party finally burned itself out.
The Underworld sky outside the Gremory territory had shifted from deep violet to a peculiar, starless black—an abyssal void that swallowed light but not sound. Somewhere in the distance, magical fireworks shaped like clan crests still burst sporadically, the mana residue drifting like glitter in the wind.
Rias closed her bedroom door quietly behind her and leaned back against it, exhaling a breath she felt she'd been holding for months.
Her feet throbbed. Her cheeks hurt from the plastic smile she'd worn for hours. Her throat was dry from answering the same questions about the Rating Game a hundred times over.
But her chest… her chest felt strangely light. The heavy chains of the Phoenix engagement were gone, dissolved into nothingness.
She crossed to the bed, her fingers trailing over the familiar carved posts of rosewood. This was the room she had grown up in. The canopy had seen her childhood dreams, her teenage frustrations, and those helpless nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if her life belonged to her.
Tonight, the air itself felt different.
A gentle, steady warmth pulsed faintly through the walls. It wasn't demonic power, nor was it holy light. It was something older, denser. Residual traces of Ren's Saint Kingdom brushed against the fabric of reality.
Her Soul Palace—the construct Ren had helped her forge—responded, humming softly within her spiritual sea.
She didn't have to guess where he was.
His presence tugged at her awareness like a weak but persistent magnet. Not in the gardens. Not out in the city. Somewhere just down the corridor.
…He really stayed in the manor.
She hesitated only a moment before padding out into the hall, barefoot, her crimson hair cascading down around her shoulders like a waterfall of blood and silk.
Three doors down, on the left. The guest suite.
She stopped, her heart thumping with a nervousness that felt ridiculous. They had trained together, fought Riser together, and slept in the same camp in the Dimensional Gap.
Still.
She raised a hand and knocked softly.
"Ren?"
A beat of silence.
Then his voice, low and familiar, drifted through the door.
"Door's open."
She slid the heavy double doors aside.
Ren was lying diagonally across the massive guest bed like he owned the place, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting on his chest. He'd ditched his coat and shirt; the silk sheets were thrown haphazardly over his waist, leaving his upper body bare.
His physique was a work of art carved by the Heavens. Lean muscle, defined but not bulky, flowed with a natural grace. Faint, glowing lines of Dao-script—ancient characters that predated the biblical God—curled over his skin like lazy constellations, pulsing with the rhythm of the Hell Suppressing Immortal Physique.
He glanced over at her and smiled. It was the smile of a man who had seen the collapse of stars and found it amusing.
"Hey."
Rias' face warmed. "…Your sense of modesty really is broken," she muttered, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.
"Why?" He smiled, faintly amused. "It's just skin. We're all born naked, Rias. You've seen me fight with half my clothes torn off anyway."
"That's different," she protested weakly, her eyes inadvertently tracing the line of his abs. "There were people watching then. It was combat."
"And that makes it better?"
She opened her mouth to argue. Closed it. Gave up.
"You…" She crossed her arms, trying to regain her composure. "…You embarrassed me today."
He blinked slowly, then grinned.
"The girlfriend declaration?" he asked. "You didn't like it?"
Her cheeks went nuclear.
"I… that's not…!" She sputtered, flustered. "In front of the entire Underworld! My father, the Satans, the nobles…!"
He propped himself up on one elbow, his expression softening. The playfulness receded, replaced by a grounded, earthen sincerity.
"Rias."
She stopped.
"You were the one who asked me to help you choose your own future," he said quietly. "I'm just walking that path with you. If I'm proud of you, I'm going to say it loud enough that the universe hears. I don't care about the politics or the etiquette. You're my woman. That's a fact heavier than their traditions."
Her throat tightened. The absolute certainty in his voice… it was intoxicating.
"…Idiot," she whispered, but there was no heat in it. Only affection.
He patted the empty space beside him.
"Come here."
She hesitated.
Ren Ming kept his calm smile. He had thoughts, of course—he was a man with a healthy drive—but he wasn't a beast ruled by lust. They had only known each other for ten days. The bond was deep, forged in the fires of cultivation and combat, but the physical intimacy needed time to breathe.
"Relax," he said, reading her hesitation. "I just want to cuddle with my girl. It has been a long day, and you look like your spine's about to fall out."
Against her will, a small laugh escaped her.
"That's a very unromantic way to put it," she said, moving toward the bed.
"Reality is often unromantic," he said lightly. "Lying down is great, though. Highly recommended."
She crawled up onto the mattress, the high-thread-count sheets cool against her bare legs. For a second, she sat cross-legged, uncertain of the protocol.
Ren simply reached out, gently took her wrist, and tugged.
She went willingly.
Her head found the crook of his shoulder, her hair spilling across his chest like red ink on parchment. His arm settled around her waist, his hand splayed possessively against the small of her back.
Up close, his aura was a quiet bonfire—immense, controlled, curling around her without burning. It was the feeling of standing next to a dormant volcano; safe, but aware of the power beneath.
Her muscles loosened, one by one. The tension of being the Gremory Heiress evaporated.
"…This is unfair," she muttered after a while, her words muffled against his skin.
"How so?"
"You're too comfortable. It's annoying."
"That's the idea."
She poked his chest halfheartedly. "You're supposed to say something cool, you know. Like, 'I'll always be your shelter,' or something poetic."
"That sounds cheesy as hell," he scoffed. "Sounds like something from a bad romance movie. But sure. I'll be your pillow, Princess. You snore, I'll still be here. I might record it for blackmail, but I'll be here."
"I do not snore!"
"We'll run tests."
She glared weakly up at him, then sighed and relaxed again, snuggling closer.
"…Ren?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you. For today. For everything. For… saving me."
He brushed his thumb in slow, hypnotic circles along her waist.
"Anytime," he said simply.
Her Soul Palace pulsed in answer, the Myriad Origin loop humming steady and strong, resonating with his. She let her eyes drift closed, listening to the double rhythm: his heartbeat, slow and powerful like a war drum, and her own, lighter and faster.
Within minutes, her breathing deepened, evening out into the rhythm of sleep.
Ren looked down at her sleeping face—lashes damp from earlier tears, expression now soft, unguarded.
He exhaled quietly through his nose.
"Yeah," he murmured to the empty room. "Definitely too comfortable."
He tightened his arm around her a fraction, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. His gaze seemed to penetrate the stone and magic, looking past the Underworld, past the dimensional gap.
Outside, the Underworld whispered and schemed. Old Devils plotted, Satans convened. But inside that room, for one night, an heiress and a cultivator from a world beyond their comprehension simply slept in each other's warmth.
...
Bright, ordinary sunlight filtered through sheer curtains.
It was the first thing Ren registered.
Not the heavy, magical density of the Gremory territory in the Underworld. Not the alien, shifting sky of Asgard. Just… normal, human-world morning light. The faint noise of distant traffic, the hum of a lawnmower, a cicada somewhere complaining about existence.
He blinked awake.
Rias was still curled against him, hair a chaotic red spill over the pillow, one hand across his chest. At some point in the night, someone—probably Grayfia, the ultimate maid—had kindly transported the entire bed, occupants included, back to Rias' manor in Kuoh.
The room was different: modern, carefully Western-style, with clean lines and a big window overlooking a manicured Japanese garden.
Huh. Portable princess bed service. Neat.
He tightened his arm gently.
She stirred, mumbling something incomprehensible in her sleep, then blinked slowly up at him. Her eyes were unfocused, blue-green pools of confusion.
"…Morning," she whispered, her voice husky with sleep.
"Morning," he replied, his smile softening into something genuine. "You look cute when you drool."
Her eyes widened in horror. She scrambled back slightly, wiping her mouth. "I did not—!"
He laughed quietly, a low rumble in his chest.
"Kidding," he said, enjoying the panic. "You just face-checked my chest a few times during the night. You're a very aggressive cuddler, Princess."
Her glare weakened under his lazy grin.
"…Idiot," she muttered, but she didn't move away.
He tilted her chin up with a finger and leaned in.
Their lips met in a slow, unhurried kiss. There was no urgency, no heat of battle, just a gentle greeting. She melted into it, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.
When they broke apart, she was flushed, her eyes soft and liquid.
"That," he murmured, "was your first official 'good morning, girlfriend' kiss."
Rias's heart did a little somersault.
"…You say things like that like it's nothing," she complained weakly.
"Because it isn't nothing," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "It's pretty much going to be the norm going forward. Get used to it."
Her chest tightened with warmth.
He kissed her forehead once, then stood up in one fluid motion, stretching his arms. His joints popped with the sound of cracking stone.
"Come on," he said. "If we stay here, we're going to miss breakfast. And I'm pretty sure Akeno will start teasing us about 'sleeping in' in ways that will break Asia's innocent little brain."
Rias sighed, pushing herself up and running a hand through her hair.
"You're right," she admitted. "As usual."
He looked over his shoulder and smirked.
"Naturally."
...
Breakfast was comfortable chaos.
The manor's dining room was bright and airy, the long table laden with a fusion of Western and Japanese dishes. Only a few seats were occupied—most of the household staff had tactfully vanished, and Sirzechs & company were nowhere to be seen, presumably back in the Underworld handling the massive political fallout Ren had caused.
Akeno was already there, pouring tea with her usual elegant, slightly sadistic smile. Asia sat primly beside her, hands folded, eyes darting nervously every time she thought about last night's public declaration. Koneko was at the far end, demolishing a mountain of pancakes with the calm, terrifying focus of a professional eater.
Ren paused in the doorway for a second, taking it in.
This wasn't his place.
He still technically lived in a dingy apartment near Kuoh Station—a box with peeling wallpaper, a flickering fridge, and a bed that creaked if you looked at it wrong. It was the first place he'd landed in this world.
This manor was Rias' home. A place of nobility.
And yet, watching his girls argue over syrup, he felt more at ease here than in any luxury palace of the Nine Heavens.
In all honesty, he didn't give a damn about where he lived. A cave, a palace, a void—it didn't matter. As long as he had a place for himself and his women, the rest was just scenery.
"Morning," he called, strolling in with his hands in his pockets.
Three heads turned.
"Good morning, Ren-sama!" Asia said quickly, then flushed bright red. "I-I mean, um, Ren-sensei…"
Akeno's eyes flickered to the faint red marks on Rias' neck where his chin had left a hint of irritation during the night's cuddling.
"My, my," she giggled, hiding her mouth behind her sleeve. "You two seem… very well-rested. The air around you is quite… satisfied."
Rias went crimson.
"Ak–Akeno!"
Koneko eyed them over her fork, syrup dripping from a piece of pancake.
"…You smell like him," she observed bluntly. "…And pancakes."
Ren laughed.
"Pancakes are a good cologne," he said, walking over. "Make room."
He leaned down and brushed a kiss over Asia's lips. She made a tiny squeak and almost dropped her fork, her face steaming.
"R-Ren…!"
Next was Akeno. He kissed her properly, tasting the herbal tea on her lips.
"Ara ara," Akeno purred, her eyes soft but pleased. "You're being bold this morning."
He moved to Koneko. He kissed her small lips gently. Her ears pinked, and her tail flicked happily beneath the chair.
"…Mm." She stabbed another pancake, pretending not to be happy.
Finally, he leaned in toward Rias, who had frozen halfway to her chair.
"Morning again, Princess," he murmured, and kissed her—slightly longer this time, asserting his place.
When he finally sat down, the atmosphere had shifted. It was warmer, oddly settled, as if some unspoken understanding had clicked into place among them. They were a unit now.
"By the way," he said casually, piling eggs onto his plate. "I've been thinking."
"That sounds dangerous," Akeno said lightly.
"Always," he agreed. "Right now, I own some little shoebox apartment. And this—" he gestured around at the manor "—is your place. It's nice, but it's not a sect. It's not a foundation."
Rias tilted her head. "…Yes?"
"It works for now," he said. "But if I'm going to set up a base, we need something more… fitting."
Asia blinked. "Um… a base?"
"Like you said yesterday," Koneko murmured between bites. "You'll be opening something in Kuoh."
"Exactly." Ren pointed a chopstick at Rias. "So. Can you arrange a manor around here?"
She blinked. "A… manor?"
"Don't overthink it," he said, amused by her shock. "It'll be just for my teachings. A place to establish the Dao in this world. Somewhere easy to reach for anyone who wants to come. Internally massive—use whatever devil space-magic you like. Preferably over good leylines. It doesn't need to be flashy on the outside. Just solid. A place that can withstand the weight of the Heavens."
Rias stared at him, half exasperated, half excited.
"You make it sound so simple," she said. "Do you have any idea how many devils would complain if I suddenly claimed a prime leyline for some… mysterious manor? The bureaucracy involved…"
"Sure." Ren took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "If some old devil or other faction complains, tell them Ren Ming says he'll gladly have a private talk to convince them."
His eyes flashed with a cold, predatory light for a split second—the domineering side of him peering through. "I'm very good at convincing people. Usually, they stop complaining permanently."
Asia paled a little. Akeno giggled behind her hand, clearly enjoying the ruthlessness.
Rias pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You're unbelievable," she muttered. But there was confidence in her eyes now, buoyed by the memory of his Saint Kingdom pressing the entire Underworld to its knees. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. Something discreet, anchored over the Kuoh leylines…"
Ren's gaze flicked once toward the floor, his senses expanding. He traced the faint threads of power running under the town, the pulse of the earth.
"Good," he said. "This world's Heaven system... well, most systems here are clunky. Inefficient." His tone was almost affectionate, like criticizing a child's drawing. "If I'm going to fix it, I'll need a workshop."
Koneko paused mid-chew.
"…Fix?" she repeated.
"We'll get there." He took another bite. "First, though…"
His eyes slid toward the corridor beyond the dining room. His Soul Sense brushed lightly over the manor, the surrounding grounds, and stopped at the hidden annex.
There.
A cramped space, folded in on itself. A presence squeezed into a tiny coffin of time-stopped shadows. Fear, guilt, and raw, uncontrolled talent all tangled together in a knot.
Ren clicked his tongue softly.
"You know," he said, "for a family that just declared everything on live TV, you still have one more person hiding."
The room froze.
Rias went rigid. Akeno's smile cracked. Koneko's tail puffed out like a bottle brush.
"W-what do you mean?" Asia asked, looking between them in confusion.
Ren looked at Rias.
"Your Bishop," he said mildly. "The one tucked away in that sealed room at the back of the old building. The time-stop box. Good kid. Terrified. We'll deal with him later."
Rias' eyes widened in shock. "H-how…?"
"I sensed it," he said simply. "You think I wouldn't notice a black hole in the flow of time sitting on my turf? It's disrupting the natural flow of Qi."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Don't panic. I'm not mad. You had your reasons—uncontrollable power, danger to others, I get it. But if we're going to build something in Kuoh, I'm not leaving one of my students locked in a closet forever. That's a waste of potential."
Akeno exhaled shakily. "…You really do see everything," she murmured.
"Not everything." He smiled faintly. "Just enough."
He set his chopsticks down, his expression turning a shade more serious.
"But I can't fix that today," he said. "First I need to properly develop an art. A Grand Dao Art. And the merit laws that go with it. Something everyone can use to defy the heavens, no matter what race they are. And before that…"
His eyes went distant for a moment, a trace of icy blue dragonfire reflected in his pupils.
"I have to settle a dragon."
Akeno's lips curved slyly.
"Ah," she purred. "So you are going to Tiamat-onee-sama."
Asia's eyes went wide. "E-Eh?!"
Koneko's chewing slowed to a halt.
"…You're really just going to… be with her?" she asked flatly.
Ren's smile turned crooked.
"Big Blue needs a date," he said. "Otherwise she'll stay brooding forever. That's bad for her scales. Stress causes wrinkles, you know."
Rias sputtered. "Y-you say that like she's some lonely housewife! She is the Karma Dragon King! The strongest Dragon King!"
"Hey, I respect her ferocity." He shrugged. "But being angry at the world for centuries is exhausting. It wears down the Dao Heart. I'm just giving her something else to think about."
Asia covered her cheeks with her hands. "T-that's… very forward…"
Akeno laughed softly. "Ara ara… Ren-sensei really doesn't hold back with anyone."
Ren pushed his chair back and stood.
"I'll probably be back by evening," he said, leaning down to press quick kisses to each of their lips again. "Try not to burn the town down while I'm gone."
Rias caught his sleeve as he straightened.
"Be careful," she said quietly.
He met her gaze, then smiled. A confident, invincible smile.
"Always."
And then he was gone, slipping out of reality with the same easy stride, leaving behind a table of blushing, exasperated, quietly smiling girls.
...
The building was as unimpressive as ever.
A faded concrete block a short walk from the station, paint peeling, mailboxes dented, the stairwell smelling faintly of dust and cheap instant ramen.
Ren stepped out of a causal distortion of space on the landing and looked up at the familiar door.
He hadn't bothered moving out yet. It was small, cramped, and more than a little ugly—but it was the first place he'd rented in this world with his own hands. There was a certain charm in that simplicity. It was grounding.
He could feel her inside.
Dragon aura was impossible to mistake. It was ancient, wild, coiled like a storm confined in a too-small space. This one was tinged with icy blue, sharp and clear, carrying the weight of centuries of solitude.
He smiled to himself and opened the door without knocking.
The apartment was exactly as he'd left it… except it had been rearranged.
His small table had been pushed closer to the window. The curtains were drawn back, letting sunlight pour in. The cheap couch looked somehow… dignified, despite its age, because of the woman sitting on it.
Tiamat wore a human guise: tall, long-legged, with blue hair cascading down her back like a river of sapphire. Her golden eyes were half-lidded, sharp as daggers. A simple white shirt and dark pants somehow looked like royal regalia on her frame. A faint smokiness clung to the air around her, like dragonfire held just below the point of ignition.
She didn't look at him as he stepped in, though he felt her aura tighten, ready to snap.
"You're late," she said coolly.
Ren toed off his shoes, letting the door swing shut behind him.
"Good morning to you too," he replied easily. "I had to do breakfast. Girlfriends would get jealous if I ran off to see another woman first thing. You know how it is."
Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly.
"Hmph. You speak as if I waited here for you," she said, her voice like cracking ice. "I simply happened to be passing by and decided your lair was… acceptable shelter."
He looked around at the meticulously tidied space—the cleaned sink, the trash taken out, the blanket folded neatly over the back of the couch.
"Whatever excuse you need after I already told you to wait up," he said, grinning. "My lair just spontaneously cleaned itself and the Dragon King accidentally sat in the only spot with a good view. What a coincidence."
She shot him a sidelong glance, irritation and amusement warring in her gaze.
"You are insufferably smug, human."
"Cultivator," he corrected automatically, dropping into the armchair opposite her. "Though I'll admit, I do enjoy the view."
He let his gaze flick openly over her—never lingering anywhere that would turn crude, but appreciative, like admiring a masterpiece weapon or a grand mountain range.
Tiamat's chin lifted.
"I did not come here to be ogled."
"I came here to relax," he countered. "You just happen to be very easy on the eyes, Big Blue."
Her eyes narrowed to slits. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"Do not call me that in front of others."
"In front of others, I'll use your name. I'll give you all the face you want." His tone softened, losing the playful edge. "Here, it's just us. I can afford to be a little rude. We don't need titles in this shoebox."
She studied him for a long moment.
When they'd first met, Ren Ming had utterly dominated her with nothing but pure physical strength—the raw power of the Hell Suppressing Immortal Physique—and then dragged her around with him. After Asgard—after watching him erase a god and chat with Ophis like she was an annoying neighbor—something had shifted.
Now, when she looked at him, there was still wariness. But there was also curiosity.
She muttered, "You toy with tribulation lightning and mock gods. If you were a dragon, you would already be one of the oldest. You have the arrogance of a wyrm."
"If I were a dragon, I'd probably be worse behaved," he said.
He leaned back, stretching his legs out.
"So," he asked. "What were you doing while I was out and about? Hoarding treasures under my bed? Counting gold?"
"I have no interest in your… human hoarding habits," she said with a sniff of disdain. "I came to see if you were still as reckless as before."
"And?"
She hesitated, just a fraction.
"…You are," she admitted. "But you are also… consistent."
"High praise."
Her fingers tapped lightly on her knee.
"After Asgard," she said slowly, "I thought you might vanish. Many powerful beings do. They appear, make a mess, shake the foundations of the world, then disappear to avoid the consequences. But you declared your intentions in front of every realm and then… went back to them. To those Devils."
Ren laughed.
"Hey, I said I would help them crush a flaming ant, and I did. I don't go back on my word."
"You are either very brave," she said, "or very foolish."
"Why not both?" he replied. "Besides, if I run away, who's going to keep you entertained?"
Her golden eyes flickered.
"You presume much."
"I observe much," he countered. "You've been bored for a long time, Tiamat. Angry, sure. Bitter about Ddraig, definitely. But mostly bored. Stagnant. You want something interesting that isn't just more blood and treasure hunting."
She fell silent.
The hum of the refrigerator filled the pause. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, charged with the weight of unspoken truths.
"…You talk as if you know me," she said finally, her voice low.
"I know the look," he said. "You feel stuck. Nobody to really rely on and no clear direction to go in. You're the strongest Dragon King, but what does that mean when you're alone in a cave?"
Her gaze dropped for a moment, then rose again, sharper, more dangerous.
"And what do you intend to do about it?" she asked.
Ren smiled. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that burned brighter than any magic.
"Simple," he said. "Stay."