Ren lingered in the doorway as the living room slowly emptied.
The girls didn't move far.
Rias, Akeno, Asia, Koneko… even Serafall… they all hovered at the edges of the hall like nervous satellites, pretending to be on their way out while glancing back every few seconds.
Their auras were steady. Their Soul Palaces turned cleanly behind their eyes. But their gazes were still full of Aži Dahāka's corpse-less death and the way four names had just… vanished.
Ren saw all of it. He always did.
He clapped his hands once.
"Alright," he said, easy and warm. "That's enough doom-staring for tonight."
Half a dozen gazes snapped to him.
Rias straightened automatically, shoulders squaring as if she were about to walk into a conference room. Akeno's lips tried to curl back into their usual teasing smile. Asia's fingers tightened around her rosary. Koneko's tail wrapped tight around her thigh beneath her oversized shirt.
Ren lifted a hand.
"Hey," he said softly. "Look at me."
They did.
He gave them that lazy, unbothered grin that made gods and dragons grind their teeth—and made his women breathe again.
"Today was loud," he said. "Big declarations. Dead dragons. Angry gods. Your heads are still spinning." His tone stayed light, but his eyes were steady. "So, here's the order."
He pointed down the hallway.
"Bed. All of you. Right now."
Asia blinked. "B-But—"
He cut in, voice turning faintly teasing. "If you stay up fretting, your beautiful skin is going to wrinkle. I refuse to be responsible for that kind of tragedy."
Rias actually choked. Akeno snorted, half a laugh, half a shocked breath. Koneko's ears twitched under her hair.
"Ren," Rias started, trying for imperious and mostly getting tired princess. "You just declared war on half the major factions in the world. We can't just—"
"Sleep?" he finished for her. "Sure you can." He tapped his chest. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
He gestured vaguely at himself. "Ancient Saint, Hell Suppressing Immortal Physique, nine Fate Palaces, whole Dao thing. I didn't say all that just to look cool." A corner of his mouth curled. "Back home, I'd be considered kind of a big shot."
Akeno clicked her tongue softly, eyes narrowing in exasperated affection. "You really are impossible."
"And yet," Ren said mildly, "you all like me anyway."
Asia's lips trembled, but she smiled.
He softened his voice further, warmth sliding under his words like a blanket. "Listen. Today, I painted a bullseye on my back on purpose. I told the creeps in the dark, 'Come after me.'"
His fingers tapped once against his chest.
"That wasn't just a cool speech," he said. "That was me doing the boring part. The planning. As long as I'm the most annoying problem in their lives, you get time. To grow. To breathe. To… figure yourselves out."
His gaze swept across them.
Rias' stubborn fire. Akeno's storm barely sheathed, lightning coiled in her smile. Asia's trembling light, bright and desperate. Koneko's quiet, feral protectiveness, sitting small but braced, as if ready to tackle the whole world by herself.
"Tomorrow," he went on, "I've got something special for you. New art. New tricks. We'll talk about curses, seals, all that nasty stuff." His eyes sharpened, just a little. "I'm not letting that rat Angra Mainyu use you as handles to pull on me."
He let the weight of that hang a second, then smiled again, lighter. "But that's tomorrow. Right now, you rest. That's an order from your terrifying, reckless, very handsome boyfriend."
Rias' mouth twitched despite herself. "…You can't just praise yourself like that."
"I can," he said. "And I did. Go to bed, Rias."
She stared at him for a long beat, then exhaled through her nose and turned away with a little huff. "…Fine. But we're not done talking about today."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Asia bowed her head slightly; the tension in her shoulders finally began to ease. "Good night, Ren."
"Night, sweetheart."
Koneko stepped past him, brushing her shoulder against his arm in a brief, grounding touch. "Don't wander off and fight gods alone," she muttered.
He ruffled her hair, gentle but firm. "No promises," he said. "But I'll try to keep it to one god per night."
"Ren," three different girls said at once.
He laughed. "Relax. I'm kidding. Mostly. Go."
One by one, they peeled away—Rias and Akeno with matching backward glares, Asia with a small, warm smile, Koneko with a last, measuring look that lingered on him a little longer than usual.
Serafall lingered at the corner, half-hidden behind a wall, pastel cardigan thrown over her usual ridiculous outfit. For once, she wasn't bouncing. She just watched him.
He met her eyes.
"Your turn, Sera," he called lightly. "Go crash. I'll come steal you tomorrow. Unless you want it tonight?"
Her cheeks colored instantly. "D-Don't say it like that…!"
He just smiled.
They broke off, finally. The manor fell into a softer, quieter buzz. Doors closed. Wards settled. The house exhaled.
Ren slid his hands into his pockets and stepped out into the night.
...
The air over Kuoh was cooler after everything.
The sky had re-knit itself, but the world still remembered. The leylines hummed differently, like an instrument slightly retuned. Somewhere in the Residual, echoes of his Saint Kingdom still rippled through the dimensional seams—faint impressions that only gods and dragons would notice.
Ren walked along the manor's rooftop, barefoot, letting his senses fan out.
The Immortal Soul Bone threads that now tied him to half the pantheons tugged faintly in every direction. Alliance of Hell. Khaos Brigade. Hero Faction. Gods who'd watched him erase Aži Dahāka and swallow his myth like a snack.
He could feel one thread more sharply than the others.
Angra Mainyu.
The Zoroastrian god's malice tasted different from devil chaos or dragon hunger. It wasn't just raw destruction. It felt like an oil slick over human hearts—curses as a language, resentment as an element. The kind of hate that seeped into prayers and turned them inside-out.
Ren leaned against a chimney, looking up at the stars.
"So," he murmured to the night. "How're you going to play it?"
He could picture it easily enough: Angra seething in some underworld hall, promising to drown him in curses, to erase his Dao with hatred. Entertaining himself with all the indirect ways to hurt someone like Ren—polluting leylines, corrupting humans, turning beloved places into traps.
Ren's smile thinned. "Come straight at me," he said quietly. "Make my life easy."
He knew better.
Rats didn't charge lions. They gnawed at the things lions loved.
Fine.
He'd prepared for that too.
He closed his eyes.
Between his brows, the Immortal Soul Bone pulsed once. For a heartbeat, the world turned into clean lines and diagrams—every lingering curse, every mark of divine authority, every seal, stripped down to rules.
Inside the inner space between his Fate Palaces, a new branch of his Dao unfolded—a pattern he'd sketched out between his tribulation and today's little stunt, inspired by the way curses tried to cling to reality and the way his physique simply refused to acknowledge them.
Not a flashy offensive art.
A filter.
An art to unhook foreign "rules" from his people before they could take root. To turn seals brittle. To make suppressions slide off. To make curses realize that this body, this soul, this Dao did not belong to their system.
Calmly, he named it in his heart.
Calamity-Shearing Veil.
Not elegant. Very accurate.
Perfect for someone like Angra.
He was still tracing that thought when space behind him rippled.
No teleportation circle flared. No obvious demonic power surged. Instead, the air simply rewrote its own rules in a small, neat ripple, and a figure stepped out of the gap as if she'd just walked through a curtain.
"Ren-chan."
For once, Serafall's voice didn't end with a sing-song star.
Ren turned, smiling. "Hey."
She stood there in the moonlight, twin-tails down for once, dark hair falling in soft waves to her waist. Her usual magical girl costume had been replaced by a soft knit dress in Sitri blue, stockings, and a cardigan. She looked… smaller, without the stage.
Her eyes, though, were very much Maou. Sharp. Searching.
"Oh?" he said. "I thought you went home. Guess you couldn't resist me after all, huh?"
She made a face, puffing her cheeks out just a little. "Hmph. I just came to say thank you, you know?"
"Really now?" His smile turned wry. "Just 'thank you'?"
Serafall's fingers curled into her sleeves, knuckles white against the wool.
"You stood over Kuoh," she said quietly, "and you told the whole world you'd protect us." Her voice trembled, just once. "You looked right at every god who hates our existence and said, 'If you mess with the Underworld, I'll erase you.'"
She let out a short, frustrated breath.
"Do you have any idea what that did to my office?"
Ren chuckled. "I imagine the paperwork's going to be wild."
She stepped closer and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You turned us into the faction with the crazy cultivator bodyguard!" she burst out. "The other pantheons you didn't include are either panicking or pretending they're not jealous. Ajuka is sending me forty-page reports on 'risk vectors,' Sirzechs keeps smiling that scary smile, Falbium is… napping harder, somehow, and I—"
She cut herself off, lips pressing together.
"And you?" he asked gently.
Serafall bit her lip. "I'm relieved," she admitted in a rush. "I'm so relieved I'm mad at you."
He laughed under his breath. "Sorry for doing my job too well?"
"It's not your job," she shot back instantly. "You're not a Devil. You're not a Maou. You're… you."
"True." He tilted his head. "I'm just the guy who'd be a failure of a man if he let his future girlfriend's home get smashed while he was around."
She froze.
"…What?"
He looked perfectly innocent. "If I just stand back and let the Alliance of Hell barbecue the Underworld after saying all that, what kind of boyfriend material would that make me? Pretty lousy, I'd say."
Serafall's face went bright red from ears to collarbone. "F-Future… girlfriend…"
"Unless I misread the way you keep making heart eyes at me between tantrums," he added lightly. "Did I?"
"I do not make heart eyes—!"
He just looked at her.
Her shoulders slumped. "…Okay, maybe a little," she muttered.
He stepped closer, letting the rooftop shrink around them. The raw emotion on her face wasn't the bright, cartoonish drama she showed in public. It was plain and human and brittle, and he treated it like the most precious thing on the field.
She had joked about him being her boyfriend before. Flirted, clung, called him things in that sparkling, sing-song voice. But Ren could feel it now—the line between play and reality.
Serafall swallowed, then straightened her back like she was about to face a foreign delegation.
"Alright," she said, eyes sharpening. "Let's test your resolve, then."
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"You're serious?" she demanded. "About me. Not just flirting because I'm cute and a Maou. Not just because I'm 'useful' for politics."
Ren snorted. "You know how much I care about politics."
"Exactly!" she said. "You don't. So tell me." She took a breath. "Where do I actually stand with you? And don't give me some smooth playboy line. I'll know."
He studied her for a long moment. The rooftop was quiet—just wind and the faint hum of wards below.
Then his smile faded, not disappearing but settling into something quieter, deeper.
"Serafall," he said softly. "Look at me."
"I am," she shot back automatically, but there was a tremor in it.
"When I say 'future girlfriend,' I mean I want all of you," he said. "Not just the cute idol who shouts 'So-tan' and waves a wand. Not just the Maou who can freeze a conference table with a look. Not just the workaholic who falls asleep on her desk at three in the morning."
He squeezed her fingers where they were still bunched in her sleeves, gently prying them free.
"All of it," he repeated. "That includes the part of you that's terrified some random cultivator will burn everything you've built. The part that wants to protect Sona before the world. The part that hates the way old devils cling to their rotten pride. I want that too." His tone stayed calm, almost casual. "As your man, I'm signing up for all the baggage."
Her throat worked.
"That means protecting your family," he went on. "Your sister. Your territory. Your people. I already told the world they don't get to touch Kuoh, Kyoto, Heaven, Grigori, the Underworld. I meant it."
His smile turned sharp for an instant.
"And if I ever betray that—if I ever hurt you or Sona, if I start acting like some scumbag who thinks 'girlfriend' is just a word…"
He tapped her forehead lightly.
"You can turn into a giant Leviathan and bite my head off," he said. "No hard feelings."
Images flashed unbidden through her mind—her true dragon form, jaws closing around that calm, infuriating smile. Something hot and terrifying and wonderful surged through her chest.
"You can't just say things like that," she whispered.
"Why not?" he asked, tone light. "Feels fair to me."
She laughed—short, shaky, helpless. Relief, fear, joy, all tangled until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
He tugged her closer and slipped his arms around her waist.
"Hey," he murmured. "Breathe."
She sagged into him before she could think better of it, face pressing into his shoulder. Up close, he smelled faintly of ozone and sun-warmed stone, like a storm that chose not to break.
"You don't get to carry all of this alone anymore," he said. "Underworld, Sona, foreign affairs, crazy gods. You threw your lot in with me the moment you decided you liked this mess."
"…You're talking like I already agreed to be your girlfriend," she mumbled into his chest.
"You will," he answered simply. "You're already halfway there."
Her heart did something very stupid.
He squeezed her once, then leaned back just enough to meet her eyes.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we're going on a real date. A better one than last time. No committees, no treaties, no angry old devils. Just you and me. Put the Maou hat down for a day and let yourself be a woman. Sort your feelings out."
Serafall's lips parted. "I… have work—"
"Delegate," he cut in. "You've got an overpowered butler, three other Satans, and half a dozen high-class devils dying for a chance to feel important. Let them flex." He smiled. "You come have fun with me."
"You make it sound so easy," she whispered.
"It is easy," he said. "You just forgot how."
She stared at him for a long beat.
Then, finally, she exhaled.
"…Fine," she said, voice small but steady. "One day."
He grinned. "There you go."
She hugged him then, sudden and tight, fingers digging into his back as if to confirm he was really there.
"Don't make me regret this," she muttered.
"I don't do regrets," he replied. "Just results."
She pulled away, cheeks flushed, eyes bright in the moonlight.
"I'll… see you tomorrow," she said, rallying a bit of her usual sparkle. "Dress nicely, okay? Maou girlfriends have standards."
"I'll try not to embarrass you," he said. "Too much."
She snapped her fingers; demonic sigils flared under her feet, Sitri-blue runes circling.
Just before the teleportation took her, he added, "Serafall."
She looked back over her shoulder.
"I'm really looking forward to our date," he said.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
Then she vanished in a swirl of blue light.
Ren stood there for a moment, the night air cool against his skin.
"Alright," he murmured to himself. "That's one dragon princess, one thunder priestess, one saint, one cat, and one Maou in my life." He huffed a quiet laugh. "It's getting lively."
He stretched, rolling his shoulders, and headed back inside.
...
He pushed open his bedroom door and stopped.
Four heads turned toward him from his own bed.
Rias sat with her back against the headboard, wearing one of his shirts over shorts, crimson hair spilling around her like a banner. Akeno lounged beside her, yukata loosely tied, bare legs tucked under her, hair down. Asia sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, clutching a pillow like a shield. Koneko was already under the covers, only her ears and golden eyes visible.
Ren raised his brows and smiled crookedly. "This is a nice surprise. What brought this on?"
Rias flushed, immediately trying to look dignified and failing. "We were just—um—we thought—"
Akeno sighed softly and rescued her. "We couldn't sleep," she admitted, smile thinner than usual but real. "So we thought we might as well bother you."
Asia nodded frantically. "I-I kept seeing that dragon and the way it just… disappeared… and then your fist… and then—" Her voice wobbled.
Koneko spoke from under the blanket, simple and blunt as always. "You feel safe," she said. "So we're here."
Ren's heart twisted pleasantly in his chest.
He shut the door behind him, crossed the room with all the ceremony of a guy coming home from a late shift, kicked off his pants, tossed his shirt over a chair, and slid under the covers without fanfare.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Come here."
He didn't make a production out of it.
Rias hesitated all of one second, then curled against his right side, face pressed to his shoulder. Akeno slid in on his left, one arm draped over his chest, her usual teasing smile replaced by something gentler. Asia tucked herself against his other side, head above his heart. Koneko sprawled across his waist like a determined cat claiming territory.
For people who had fought gods and dragons, they clung like they might vanish if they let go.
Ren rested one hand in Rias' hair, fingers threading through the silk. His other hand settled on Akeno's back, warm and steady. He nudged Asia's shoulder with his chin in a little reassuring bump. Koneko's ear flicked against his stomach; he scratched it lightly.
"See?" he murmured. "Still here. No drama. Just breathing. We definitely need to do this more often."
Rias mumbled something about him being reckless into his shirt. Akeno's fingers traced idle little arcs along his chest, lightning barely a whisper under her skin. Asia's breathing slowly synced with his. Koneko's tail draped over his thigh like a small flag.
Sleep took them one by one.
Ren closed his eyes last, sinking into the warmth of them, Dao calm even as the world rearranged its plans around his existence.
...
Morning came quietly.
He woke to a pile of warm limbs and soft hair.
Rias had migrated half on top of him, one hand fisted firmly in his shirt, as if daring the universe to try and move him without her. Akeno had curled closer in the night, devil and fallen wings half-unfurled in sleep. Asia sprawled across his chest, drooling faintly, fingers still folded like she'd tried to pray and fallen asleep mid-amen. Koneko had somehow claimed his entire right arm as her pillow.
He could have slipped out without waking them.
He didn't.
He lay there for a few minutes instead, watching the way their brows had smoothed overnight, the way their Soul Palaces turned steadily in the background—bright, clean little worlds orbiting his.
When they finally stirred, the clinginess didn't go away.
If anything, it got more intense.
Rias held his hand all the way to breakfast and glared, on reflex, at anyone who looked like they might object. Akeno appeared at his shoulder every time he moved, smile soft instead of sharp. Asia kept ending up pressed to his side like a small, determined magnet. Koneko shadowed him silently, tail looping possessively around his wrist whenever they stopped.
Ren welcomed it. He cracked jokes, stole quick kisses when he could get away with it, let them lean on him as much as they wanted.
What he noticed—and treasured—was the new light in their eyes.
Determination.
It burned cleaner now. Less I have to keep up with the crazy cultivator and more I refuse to be the weak point he worries about.
Beautiful.
...
By late morning, the manor courtyard was full.
Rias' peerage stood near the front—Rias, Akeno, Asia, Koneko, Issei, Kiba—each with a seventy-percent-condensed Soul Palace humming behind their eyes, Myriad Origin circulation patterns woven neatly into their demonic power and touki.
Ren Ming students
Behind them, Sona and her peerage lined up in crisp order. Tsubaki stood at her queen's shoulder, fan in hand, Mirror Alice's quiet presence lurking behind her eyes. Momo and Reya, Tomoe and Tsubasa, Saji with Vritra's fragments coiled restlessly under his skin.
Griselda with Xenovia and Irina in white and blue. Sairaorg and his battle-hungry peerage. Rossweisse frowning slightly, arms folded over her binder of defensive arrays. Gasper half-hiding behind a pillar, peeking out with wide, glowing eyes. Azazel hovering above with a lazy posture that fooled exactly no one.
A Shinto priestess carrying a sliver of Amaterasu's attention watched from the side, sunlight clinging to her like a second robe. Yokai envoys from Kyoto stood together near the back. Members of Slash Dog. Vali's team. A scattering of other powers.
A small piece of every faction Ren had named yesterday.
On a rooftop at the edge of the courtyard, Tiamat perched in human form, blue hair stirring in a breeze that didn't exist. She leaned on the railing, arms folded, gaze as flat and sharp as a blade. The Dragon King did not deign to acknowledge that she'd shown up early.
Ren did that for her.
He stepped out onto the raised platform at the courtyard's center, dyed sunlight pooling over his shoulders, hands in his pockets. The air shifted subtly; the Saint Kingdom imprint he'd left on the area hummed to life, resonating with his presence.
Every gaze turned to him.
He clicked his tongue. "So much attention," he drawled. "You're all going to make me blush."
Rias snorted. "You would enjoy it."
Several people rolled their eyes. A few smiled despite themselves. More than a few gods-in-training found it vaguely horrifying that someone who had eaten a Heavenly Dragon-class attack yesterday could say that with a straight face.