The last fragments of light from Ren's projection dissolved out of Kuoh's sky.
For a long moment, no one in the manor's living room moved.
The TV was off. The curtains were half-drawn. Outside, it was just a perfectly ordinary late afternoon—cars on the distant street, a train clattering past, the faint laugh of some kids in a nearby park.
Inside, everyone was still seeing something else.
A human figure standing in the depths of the Realm of the Dead.
Curses howling like storms.
Three gods erased in a heartbeat.
The rulers of Hell carved apart like brittle paper under a red sun.
Asia's hands were clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone white.
Kuroka hugged her Ren-shaped plushie so hard it squeaked in protest, her tails puffed and bristling.
Koneko's tail was fluffed to twice its normal size, pressed stiff against the couch, her golden eyes wide and unfocused.
Le Fay's notebook lay open and abandoned on the table, pen stopped mid-formula. A tiny ink blot spread slowly where the tip had halted.
Natsume's fists flexed and unflexed on her knees, short nails biting into her palms.
Shigune had both hands pressed flat over her heart, as if afraid it might burst out of her chest if she loosened her grip.
Rias stood by the window with her back half-turned, fingers strangling the curtain fabric. Akeno sat on the arm of the couch beside Issei, violet eyes fixed on the empty air where Ren's projection had been, faint sparks of lightning still prickling over her shoulders.
Sona's glasses had slid down her nose. She didn't push them up. She just stared, expression tight, at nothing at all.
Serafall, for once, wasn't bouncing or singing or doing some ridiculous pose. She stood near Sona, lips pressed into a thin line, childish aura thinned to almost nothing.
The silence was heavy. Not empty—full. Crammed to the brim with fear, awe… and a pressure no one could quite name.
Then space in the center of the room twisted.
It wasn't a teleport circle. No glowing demonic pattern, no angelic light, no ripple of magic they recognized.
Reality just… took a breath and changed its mind.
It decided Ren Ming belonged here more than wherever he'd been a heartbeat ago.
Air folded inward like a curtain pinched between fingers. The floor, the walls, the ceiling all seemed to bow around a single point.
Ren stepped out of the ripple with one hand in his pocket.
Same coat. Same lazy posture. Same faint smile tugging at his lips, as if he'd just come back from the convenience store instead of a divine slaughter.
For half a second, no one reacted.
Then the room exploded.
"Ren!"
"Ren-san!"
"Ren!"
The living room turned into a stampede.
Asia moved first, almost tripping over the low table. Her chair scraped backward with a harsh squeal; she didn't even notice. Irina and Xenovia were right behind her, wings flaring, chairs falling over in their wake. Le Fay shot to her feet so fast her notebook went spinning to the floor. Natsume and Shigune surged up without a word, drawn in like the tide.
Rias crossed the distance in three long, determined strides—
—and stopped only because Asia slammed into him first.
She hit his chest hard enough that, by normal standards, would have turned a Mid-class devil's ribs into powder. Ren didn't budge. Asia's arms, small and trembling, wrapped around him and clung to his shirt with desperate strength, her face pressed into his chest.
"Ren…" Her voice cracked on his name. "You… you…!"
She couldn't get the rest out. Her throat simply closed.
Irina crashed into his side a heartbeat later, wings flaring to keep her balance, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Xenovia caught his other shoulder, fingers digging into fabric—not shaking, but very, very firm.
Le Fay stopped just short of colliding, hands fisted into her skirt, blue eyes huge and shimmering.
Natsume hovered at his flank, jaw clenched, as if physically holding back words. Shigune ended up half-hidden behind the others, reaching out with trembling fingers to pinch the sleeve of his coat, as though she needed the texture to be sure he was real.
Behind that first wave, the rest crashed in.
Kuroka darted around the mass of bodies with neko-speed and launched herself upwards, arms looping around his neck from behind.
"Ren-nyan…!" Her voice tried to turn it into a purr, playful and lazy like always, but a tremor slipped through the sound.
Koneko ended up at his waist. Two small hands clamped onto his shirt like steel. Her ears were flat, her tail fluffed, golden eyes a little too bright.
Asia's healing aura flickered uncontrolled, waves of gentle light leaking out of her and washing over him in uneven bursts like a heartbeat that hadn't calmed down yet.
Rias, held back by the wall of bodies, stood only one step away, fists clenched at her sides. Her pride as a Gremory heiress kept her from throwing herself directly into the dogpile… and only barely. Her shoulders trembled.
Akeno's smile was too sharp, eyes too wet, lightning skittering weakly across her skin as her emotions spilled into her power. Sona still stood near the back, fingers pressed to the bridge of her glasses as if to steady herself.
Serafall had already taken a half-step into the mess before she caught herself. She froze mid-motion, expression twisting between childish impulse and Maou-level self-control.
For a moment, Ren disappeared under the pile of bodies and emotions.
He didn't push anyone away.
He laughed.
It was soft and low, rolling in his chest. The kind of laugh that made tension leak out of shoulders whether people wanted it to or not.
"Love really is in the air," he said.
That got him a chorus of outraged noises.
"Don't joke right now!" Rias snapped, moving in that last step and smacking his arm with more force than she intended.
"Idiot," Xenovia muttered, voice thick. "We thought you were going to die."
"Ren…" Asia said again, voice small and hoarse, like his name itself was a prayer.
"You were shining," Irina blurted, words tumbling out. "And then everything exploded and you—and those gods—"
"Ren," Sona cut in sharply. The last syllable betrayed her, cracking faintly. "That was… that was beyond reckless."
Le Fay finally found her voice.
"You weaponized the conceptual laws of three primary gods and a Beast of the Apocalypse inside the Realm of the Dead," she sputtered, words tripping over each other. "While projecting your existence across every major mythological system at the same time—do you realize how many ways that could have backfired? The interference alone—!"
Shigune's eyes shone. "I thought…" Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. "I thought you were…"
Natsume's jaw flexed, throat working. "You looked like you were being erased," she managed. "Like you were… fading."
Ren let them throw it all at him—fear, anger, relief, accusations. He took it the way he took blows—without flinching, without looking away.
When the storm finally ran out of words and the noise died enough that breathing could be heard again, he moved.
He shifted his weight, gently redistributing the clinging bodies without actually peeling anyone off.
Asia ended up tucked under one arm, pressed against his side. Kuroka still hung from his shoulders like an oversized cat. Koneko stayed attached at his waist. Irina and Xenovia braced against his other flank, solid and close.
He tilted his head and looked around the circle of faces.
The smile stayed on his lips, but his eyes softened.
"Hey," he said quietly. "I'm here."
The simple words cut through the noise deeper than any grand speech could have.
Breathing hitched. Shoulders relaxed. The trembling in some hands eased.
"This," he went on, voice light but steady, "was just one small hurdle."
Asia stared up at him like he'd grown another head. "Small…?"
"In the long run," he said. "It needed to be done. Leaving those guys down there was like leaving poison in the walls. Better to tear everything out once, even if it makes a mess, than pretend not to smell the rot."
Images flickered in their minds unbidden—those last moments of the projection. The storm of curses that had turned the screen into black fire. Ren's silhouette standing alone amid collapsing hellscapes. The way gods—actual gods—had vanished like dust under his hand.
"Once this next part is done," Ren continued, squeezing Asia's shoulder gently, "we get to enjoy ourselves properly. No curses in the walls, no rats in the basement, no gods taking potshots at my people."
His eyes slid over them one by one.
"Just training. Dates. Good food. Arguing about parfait flavors."
Serafall sniffed. "You say that like parfaits aren't serious business."
"They're life and death," Ren agreed solemnly. "But that's one battlefield I don't mind losing on sometimes."
Akeno let out a shaky laugh in spite of herself. Sona's shoulders, which had been drawn up to her ears, dropped a fraction.
The tension loosened just enough for everyone to breathe.
Ren's smile tilted, gaining its usual teasing edge.
"And speaking of dates," he said, "I need to get ready to rock Penemue's world. And Ravel's, too. I have a reputation to maintain."
The room temperature shifted on the spot.
"Oh?" a voice said from the doorway.
Ravel stood there, notebook still in hand, orange eyes wide open, cheeks going bright pink. Behind her, Penemue hovered with a coffee mug, expression composed… except for the way her fingers tightened around the handle.
"Ren Ming," Penemue said sweetly. "You're planning to 'rock my world,' are you?"
"Those were his words," Ravel added immediately, flustered. "Just now. In front of everyone."
A chorus of feminine gazes converged on Ren like a barrage.
Ren didn't flinch.
He spread his hands as far as the clinging girls allowed.
"Obviously," he said. "You two said yes. I don't half-ass my promises. If I'm taking you out, I'm going to make sure you walk away thinking, 'I'd like to do that again.' Anything less would be rude."
Ravel made a soft noise as her blush climbed to the tips of her ears. She clutched her notebook to her chest like a shield.
Penemue's lips twitched. "Normally," she drawled, "if a man said something like that in public, I'd assume he was all talk."
"Lucky for me," Ren said, eyes warm on her face, "you're a very good evaluator."
Her heartbeat stuttered for an instant, fingers tightening around the mug.
Across the room, Rias' expression soured for half a second before she caught herself. Akeno hid a smile behind her fingers. Serafall pouted theatrically. Asia puffed her cheeks, torn between jealousy and genuine affection for both Penemue and Ravel.
Sona pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ren," she said. "We are trying to be serious."
"I am being serious," he replied. The teasing didn't leave his tone, but something else settled beneath it—something calm and unwavering. "How could I not go that far for the women I love?" His gaze swept over them. "And the women I'm growing to love?"
The room went silent in a different way.
He said it easily. No fanfare, no dramatic pause. Just the truth, laid out like a simple weather report.
That, more than anything, shut them up.
Asia's breath caught in her throat.
Rias' face went scarlet so fast it almost looked like a spell. Her fingers, still clenched, loosened slightly.
Koneko's eyes went wide, ears flicking twice.
Kuroka's tail curled in satisfaction even as her own cheeks colored.
Sona's fingers tightened around the frame of her glasses.
Le Fay went very still, gaze dropping to the floor where her poor notebook lay, as if the scuffed cover suddenly needed deep study.
Penemue looked away first.
Ravel clutched her notebook harder, knuckles whitening.
Ren chuckled quietly, the edges of his smile curling further up.
"I'm calling this a win for honesty," he said. "I'll take the point."
"Idiot," Rias muttered—but there was no heat in it. Her lips trembled suspiciously instead.
"That's cheating," Serafall grumbled under her breath. "You can't just say it all straightforward like that…"
"Why not?" Ren asked. "It's true."
Before anyone could recover enough to argue, the air changed.
Something cold and absolute slid into the room.
Not hostile. Not warm. Just… complete. Like a circle that had been missing its last line suddenly closing.
Conversations died mid-breath. Even the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen seemed to fade away.
A small, precise shift in space—narrower and sharper than the ripple Ren had used—opened a single step in front of him.
Ophis stepped out.
Bare feet. Plain black dress. Long black hair falling straight down her back.
Her snake-like eyes, dark and empty, swept the room once.
The effect was immediate.
Even the more battle-hardened among Ren's students felt something primal shiver inside their souls—a quiet voice telling them to bow, to run, to hide. The air around her felt like the Dimensional Gap itself had leaned down to peep into their little room.
She ignored all of them.
Her gaze went straight to Ren.
"You," she said.
Ren's expression shifted.
The smile stayed, but it turned crystalline. Underneath, his eyes went very, very calm.
He gently loosened Asia's grip just enough so she could breathe, stroked Koneko's hair once, smoothing the bristling fur of her tail, then turned fully toward Ophis.
"Hey," he said. "You came fast."
"I felt your punch," Ophis replied in her flat, childlike voice. "It made the Dimensional Gap shake. It made my silence noisy."
The girls glanced between them, trying and failing to follow.
Ren's grin flashed. "Yeah," he said. "Sorry about the noise. The party's about to be wild. You should bring your A-game."
Several people audibly choked.
Irina's brain froze on the image of the deadpan Infinite Dragon God at a "wild party." Xenovia just blinked. Le Fay looked like someone had hit her with a low-voltage shock spell.
Ophis tilted her head. "A… game?" she repeated.
"It means," Ren said, "come with everything you've got. No holding back."
"Why?" she asked.
There was no curiosity in her tone. No emotion at all. Just a simple demand for information.
Ren didn't dance around it.
"I'm going to settle everything in the Gap," he said. "No more sniping from the shadows. No more cursed avatars creeping through cracks. I want every piece on the board in one place."
He met her eyes and didn't look away.
"That includes you and Great Red."
The room inhaled as one.
"It's for your good too," Ren added. "If we keep going like this, someone else will try to use you again. Use Great Red. Use Trihexa. Use every weapon they can reach." His voice stayed light, but a sharp edge slid into it. "You've already seen that play once."
Memories flickered behind Ophis' eyes—not visually, but in the faint tightening of her gaze. Rizevim's smug smile. Khaos Brigade using her name like a banner. Her own power twisted into tools she had never cared for.
Her fingers curled by a fraction.
"I do not like being used," she said.
"I know," Ren replied. "So I'm going to make it very obvious to the whole universe that trying to manipulate you is a bad idea. That trying to play with the Gap is a bad idea. If anyone wants to test that after they see it…"
His smile thinned.
"That's their funeral."
"The Dimensional Gap is my home," Ophis said. "I want it to be silent again. Great Red made it noisy. That is why I tried to erase him."
Ren lifted one shoulder in a casual half-shrug.
"And how's that been working out for you?"
She blinked once.
"…Bad," she admitted.
"Right." He closed the distance between them to a few steps. The girls behind him instinctively tensed, but he didn't raise a guard, and Ophis didn't move.
"Give me one day," he said. "Come to the Gap with everyone else. And if you still want Great Red gone afterwards, we'll talk about it."
"Talk," she repeated.
"Words," he said. "You know. These little sounds that sometimes matter."
Silence stretched.
The weight in the room shifted subtly, like a bedroom where someone sleeping had just rolled over.
"…I will be there," Ophis said at last.
Asia sagged in visible relief. Akeno let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Sona's fingers finally slipped from her glasses.
"Good," Ren said.
He pointed lazily upward.
"One day," he reminded her. "Dimensional Gap. Front row seat."
Ophis nodded once.
Then her gaze slid past him. Over Asia's tear streaks, over Rias' set jaw, over Koneko's puffed tail, over Kuroka's clutch on her plush, over Penemue's composed face and Ravel's blush.
"…You have many," she observed.
Ren blinked. "Many what?"
"Feelings," Ophis said, as if that explained everything.
Then she stepped backward into a fold in space and vanished as if the room had simply decided it did not contain her anymore.
The pressure in the air eased.
It didn't become light, exactly. Just… breathable again.
Everyone stared at Ren.
Ren turned back to them.
"This isn't me being entirely reckless," he said.
"Lies," Sona muttered.
"Mostly not reckless," he corrected, deadpan. "There's a difference."
He swept his gaze across the room. Rias. Akeno. Asia. Koneko. Xenovia. Irina. Issei, still slumped at the far end of the couch with a shell-shocked expression. Serafall. Sona. Tsubaki. Kuroka. Penemue. Griselda, who had quietly arrived via a magic circle near the hall. Rossweisse hovering by the bookshelf. Ravel. Le Fay. Shigune. Natsume.
"All of this," Ren said softly, "is about opening a new era."
His voice wasn't loud, but it filled the space.
"A world where normal humans can make gods tremble. Where nobody grows up as a weapon for some pantheon. Where you actually get to choose what you want to be."
His words sank into them, each person in the room hearing something different.
Issei thought of the old him—yelling about boobs, getting punched by Rias, being dragged along. Then of standing in that projection, armor blazing beside Vali, dragons roaring in his blood.
Rias remembered a time before Ren Ming appeared, the Rating Game with Riser—fire, desperation, humiliation. Then the way Ren had walked into her life, flipped the table, and handed her choices she hadn't dared think she could have.
Akeno saw a little girl under a storm-black sky, torn between light and fallen darkness, hating half of herself. Then she saw lightning running through her like a proper path, not a punishment.
Koneko thought of her sister's back retreating into blood and screams. Then of Immutable Core, white and steady inside her.
Penemue saw Ren sitting with Azazel over a mountain of paperwork, casually rewriting systems of Heaven and Grigori while sipping coffee.
Griselda's fingers tightened around her rosary. Heaven's doctrines felt very far away all of a sudden.
"I'll make it up to each of you," Ren continued. "Not just with speeches like this, but in ways that matter to you. I don't say things I don't intend to follow through on. You've seen that already."
He wasn't bragging. He was just listing facts.
He had promised to protect Kuoh—and the spike of strange disasters had stalled.
He had promised to help them grow stronger—and their Soul Palaces, new arts, and expanded powers were proof.
"Even so," Griselda said quietly, voice trembling just a little, "we will worry."
"Good," Ren said. "I'd be worried if you didn't."
He tapped his chest lightly with two fingers.
"So do me a favor. When I go, send me off with a smile. I'm planning to come back for lap pillows, you know."
Kuroka brightened immediately. "I call dibs," she announced, tail swishing.
Koneko's hand shot up, eyes deadly serious. "Second."
Asia's face went bright red. "I—I'll make tea," she blurted. "For when you come back. And snacks. And—"
Rias finally managed to huff, some color back in her cheeks. "As if I'd let you monopolize him," she said, glaring half-heartedly at Kuroka and Koneko.
Serafall's eyes sparkled again. "We should just make a line," she said happily. "Lap-pillow queue~"
Sona's face went crimson. "Do not include me in your ridiculous line," she snapped. "I absolutely will not—"
"Sure, sure," Ren said, amused.
The mood, taut as a drawn bowstring a few moments ago, eased by a noticeable degree. The fear didn't vanish, but it stopped choking.
Ren let the laughter wash over him for a moment, then let his expression sober.
"Listen," he said. "If you want to watch, go with Sirzechs, Michael, Azazel, Amaterasu and the others. They'll set up a viewing field from a safe distance." He put deliberate emphasis on the word. "Safe."
His gaze sharpened.
"No one goes near the battlefield," he said. "No jumping in. No heroic sacrifices. Unless the Gap itself starts collapsing, you let me handle it."
The protests came immediately.
"Ren—"
"Ren-san, we can't just—"
"You expect us to sit and watch while you—"
"Yeah," he said simply. "I do."
They froze at the bluntness.
He smiled again, gentler.
"Look at it this way," he said. "If someone like Issei or Sairaorg jumps into that mess, what happens?"
Issei flinched. Sairaorg, not present but very much in their mental image, loomed large in several minds.
"They get erased," Ren continued. "Not beaten. Not injured. Just… taken off the board. You know the kind of things waiting in that fight. You saw it a little just now."
Nyx's collapsing night. Tartarus' gravity. Evil Dragon breath that tore holes in space. Curse storms that ate concepts.
Some people swallowed audibly.
"All this concern?" Ren said, shaking his head slightly. "It's making me more fired up to win. So help me out. Send me off with faith instead of fear."
From anyone else, it would have sounded arrogant.
From the man who had just erased three gods and sliced through Hell's rulers in their own realm, it felt more like a promise.
Rias swallowed.
"…Fine," she said at last, voice hoarse. "But you'd better not make a liar out of me, Ren."
Asia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded, lips trembling. "We'll… we'll be waiting," she whispered. "All of us."
Sona straightened, pushing her glasses up. The familiar strict light came back into her eyes, even if they were still slightly damp.
"If you come back," she said crisply, "I will triple your paperwork as punishment."
Ren's laugh came out low and warm.
"Guess I have no choice, then," he said. "Gotta survive."
Frayed but real laughter rippled around the living room.
Ren let himself feel it. The warmth. The worry. The stubborn, ridiculous trust.
For just an instant, it pressed against his Dao Heart hard enough to leave a ripple.
He accepted it.
Then he exhaled, shoulders relaxing.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Time to get ready."
He didn't say what, exactly, he was going to prepare.
He didn't need to.
....
The rest of the world did not sit still.
In the Underworld, a war council chamber that had seen a thousand years of scheming felt suddenly, brutally small.
Maps of territories and centuries-old treaties had been shoved aside. Every inch of the obsidian table was buried under fresh reports—glowing screens, paper files, crystal records, hastily scrawled notes.
"Khaos Brigade bases destroyed," a devil officer reported, voice unsteady despite his best efforts. "We have confirmed signatures of Rizevim Livan Lucifer—wounded, but alive. Several of his lieutenants are missing, presumed dead. The rest are scattering."
Another officer swallowed, eyes flicking to a different set of documents. "Trihexa's seals are… reacting. Our observers in the outer strata of the cage report turbulence along the binding layers. We fear—"
"We know what it means," Sirzechs said quietly.
The room fell into a tense hush.
Sirzechs stood at the head of the table, red hair falling like a banner down his back, aura wrapped so tightly it was almost invisible. Almost. The pressure of it hung over the chamber like a thundercloud.
Behind him, Grayfia stood straight and still, eyes cool, unreadable, the perfect maid and marshal in one. Only the faint tightness at the corners of her mouth betrayed anything like emotion.
Across from them, Ajuka Beelzebub flicked through floating formulae, layers of green magic circles overlapping his narrow frame. Numbers, runes, and structure diagrams whirled around his hands, rewriting themselves with each passing second.
"The energy pattern from Ren's projection matches the earlier incident in the Realm of the Dead," Ajuka said at last, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He connected his… whatever he uses… to every major faith system's broadcasting medium at once."
He let out a slow breath.
"It's elegant," he admitted, tone flat as he stared at the data. "I hate it."
Sirzechs' gaze shifted to him. "Can we stop what's coming?"
Ajuka's fingers froze over the circles.
"Stop?" he echoed. "No."
He lifted his head, green eyes sharp and clear despite the fatigue.
"Divert, maybe. Mitigate, if we're lucky. But the moment he set the appointment in the Dimensional Gap, the structure of events changed. Every major player has to respond or be marked as prey by the others."
He dismissed half the circles with a flick. The remainder rearranged into a simplified model: a point labeled REN at the center, dozens of divine signatures orbiting it like unstable satellites.
"From the perspective of mythological game theory, he forced a convergence," Ajuka continued. "Anyone who doesn't show up risks having their authority… rewritten afterwards."
Sirzechs' eyes closed for a brief moment.
"…Then we prepare to watch," he said. "And to act if the world itself starts to crack."
His words settled over the table like a verdict.
Grayfia bowed slightly, her voice cool. "Preparations for emergency evacuation protocols and large-scale sealing operations are already underway."
No one asked who, exactly, would be able to seal what if this went wrong.
...
In Heaven, sunlight poured through vast stained glass, painting the floor in gentle colors. The serenity of the place made the tension in the air feel even sharper.
Michael convened the Seraphim in one of the higher halls. Golden halos cast soft light on complex magic circles floating in the air, each one a sensor array turned outward, toward the Dimensional Gap.
"Sending troops into the Gap is… reckless," one Seraph said, brows drawn. "Our power doesn't flow the same way there. The laws are unstable. Our blessings may not take proper effect."
"We are not sending an army," Michael replied.
His voice was gentle, but there was iron under it.
"We are sending observers. If Ren Ming's promise holds, then…"
He trailed off, eyes unfocusing for a heartbeat.
"…Then this may be the script of a new age," he finished softly. "We need to know how to walk it."
Gabriel stood at his side, hands lightly clasped in front of her, aura soft and luminous. Her smile was gentle, but her eyes, when she looked toward the earth below, held clear worry.
"And," she added, voice like a bell, "we need to be sure he comes back. For their sake."
Their—the devils, the humans, the Fallen, the children in Kuoh who laughed as if the world wasn't balanced on a knife.
The Seraphim exchanged looks.
One by one, they nodded.
...
Far below Heaven's radiance, in the layered depths of Grigori, chaos ruled in a way Azazel almost found nostalgic.
Almost.
The research division looked less like an office and more like a storm had taken human form. Fallen Angels in lab coats darted between consoles and magic arrays, shouting updates.
"Dimensional Gap fluctuation increasing by twelve percent!"
"Recalibrate the conceptual sensors—we're getting bleed-over from dragon signatures!"
"Does anyone have a working model for how a cultivator walks?!"
Holographic projections and magic mirrors displayed models of the Gap: a colorless ocean with ripples made of equations and circles. Every time they finished a simulation, reality shifted and made it obsolete.
In the middle of the storm, Azazel stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking up at one particularly stubborn projection.
"Punching the laws of physics in the face…" he muttered. "Of course he'd do it in the one place that doesn't have proper laws in the first place."
They were good. Grigori had always been good at peeking under reality's hood. But this time, even he had to admit they were working blind.
Penemue, for once, did not join the chaos.
She sat in a quieter side office, its usual neat stacks of papers now competing with hastily-delivered reports. A single sheet lay in front of her, the words on it refusing to stay still in her mind.
"Go out with me," he had said earlier that day, leaning in her doorway with that infuriatingly relaxed smile.
Field research. An interview. A chance to complain about your boss.
He'd said it like he was suggesting coffee after work, not planning to walk into a battlefield with enough firepower to rewrite pantheons.
Her fingers pressed over her heart, annoyed to find it beating far too fast.
"…You'd better come back," she muttered, glaring at the memo as if it were to blame. "I have data to collect."
...
In Kyoto, spiritual mist clung to tiled rooftops and shrine gates like a living thing.
Within the palace of the yokai, Yasaka sat at the head of a gathering of high-level youkai and onmyouji. Her nine tails fanned behind her, golden eyes calm but grave.
"We will not interfere," she said.
Murmurs rose, quickly fading when her gaze swept the room.
"However, we will watch. If the dimensional tides grow too rough, we may need to anchor Japan's ley lines. Prepare the great barriers and keep the sacred sites ready. If the Gap's turbulence touches this land, we will hold it."
Her hands folded in her lap.
Ren Ming's presence over Kuoh had already smoothed certain currents. The air in Japan's spirit realm was clearer, more ordered. What he was about to do… might stabilize things permanently.
Or shatter them.
Yasaka's lips pressed together in a thin line.
"Pray for the first," she said. "Prepare for the second."
...
In Takamagahara, the realm of the Shinto gods, sunlight burned bright and pure.
On a high balcony overlooking endless clouds and hidden shrines, Amaterasu stood in a simple sundress rather than formal regalia, the fabric rustling as a breeze brushed past. Her hair, golden-black, caught the light.
One attendant knelt at her side, head bowed low.
"Susanoo is missing," he reported, voice strained. "We cannot locate his shrine or his presence. None of our usual paths reach him."
Amaterasu's lashes lowered.
"He knows how to hide," she murmured. "Too well."
Her fingers tightened slightly on the railing.
"Keep looking. Quietly."
"Yes, Lady Amaterasu."
When he was gone, she looked up.
The sky beyond Takamagahara's boundary was wrong if one knew how to look. Faint ripples danced across it—echoes of something moving in the colorless sea between realities. The Dimensional Gap, stirred in ways it was never meant to be.
"…You really plan to rewrite the stage," she whispered, thinking of a human who smiled too easily while standing in front of gods.
"Let's see if you survive your own actions."
...
On other thrones in other realms, similar words were spoken.
In a chamber of unfiltered light, Aten frowned, the disc of the sun blazing faintly behind him.
"A mortal who dares erase gods," he mused, voice crisp and cool. "Unacceptable."
Among the top ten strongest beings in the world, Aten was not used to being… ignored.
Far below, in a cavern where molten rock glowed from within the earth, Typhon coiled—upper body a towering giant, lower body a storm of serpents. Vast blue fists clenched, cracking stone.
"If that insect rewrites the food chain," he growled, "I will crush him."
In shifting sands lit by a burning horizon, Set sharpened knives of storm and desert, lightning for edges and hot wind for handles. Ares, somewhere in the Greek realm, bared his teeth in a savage grin, battle-lust kindling like an old friend.
In the Hindu domain, Indra pushed sunglasses up on his nose, expression uncharacteristically grim for once as he studied a projection of the Gap. The easy smirk that devils knew so well was gone.
"…Tch," he clicked his tongue. "He picks the worst place for a meeting."
...
Farther east, beyond the sight of most pantheons, a quiet courtyard floated above a cosmic sea.
Lotus flowers drifted on still water that reflected not the sky, but layered universes, each one a faint, distant glimmer.
Three figures sat on simple stone seats.
Brahma, four-headed creator, arms folded, gazes turned in different directions as if watching several worlds at once.
"He disturbed the balance," one of his faces stated, voice low. "Removed Nyx, Angra Mainyu, Tartarus. Struck Hades. Destroyed too many variables at once."
"He also removed problematic variables," Vishnu countered gently from the neighboring seat, hands resting loosely in his lap. "Nyx, Angra, Tartarus… each of them carried ruin. And Hades' overreach would have fractured the accords sooner or later."
Shiva sat slightly apart, legs folded, trishula resting at his side. His eyes were half-lidded, expression unreadable.
"He moves in my domain," Shiva said quietly. "Destruction. Transformation. Rebirth. I cannot approve the chaos he brings… but I cannot deny its necessity."
The cosmic sea rippled faintly, reflecting Trihexa's slowly stirring cage in the far distance.
"Then we go," Brahma said. "Not to follow him. To stop him, if we must."
Shiva opened his eyes fully.
Amusement, faint and dangerous, glinted deep within.
"We will see who stops whom," he murmured.
...
And in the deepest pits of the Underworld, on cracked floors still slick with divine blood that refused to dry, a different gathering formed.
Smoke clung to the cavern ceiling like dirty clouds. The air stank of sulfur, scorched stone, and something older—divine authority that had been torn and left to rot.
Hades sat on a throne of blackened bone and iron, his cloak matted with ash, the mark of Ren's earlier strike still etched across his being—a wound that no Underworld law could properly heal.
Nearby, Rizevim Livan Lucifer lounged on a fragment of shattered pillar, half his chest wrapped in seals and bandages that leaked twisted light. His grin was weaker than usual, but no less deranged.
Apophis coiled in a corner, Eclipse Dragon aura swallowing the weak light, edges of his form bleeding into shadow. Crom Cruach stood with arms folded, eyes sharp, looking less wounded than… annoyed.
Cao Cao leaned against a column, True Longinus resting beside him. His missing arm's absence ached with phantom pain.
The remnants of the Hero Faction lingered close—Georg pale but steady, Jeanne and Heracles standing like worn blades that refused to break.
They were not allies so much as animals caught in the same snare.
'If we do not go, he will hunt us,' Cao Cao thought, staring down at the empty sleeve where his arm had been. His fingers tightened around the True Longinus' hilt. 'We will bleed one by one in the dark.'
'If we go, we may die faster,' Rizevim thought, amused even now. 'But if we stay, we die small. Boring.'
Hades' eyes burned with cold fury.
"He humiliated me in my own realm," the god of the dead said softly. "Erased my co-conspirators. Stained the Underworld with a power that does not belong here."
His fingers closed around the armrest of his throne.
"If I do not answer this summons, my name will rot."
One by one, they called in every favor they had left.
Summoned old allies, hired desperate mercenaries, dragged out weapons that should have stayed sealed.
In the end, their choices narrowed to a single road.
To the Dimensional Gap.