While the family waited for their husband's return, Fatalis, Crom Cruach, and Great Red found themselves stirring up trouble in their own way.
Kicked back on a stolen throne—once owned by a minor devil noble who'd suffered a most convenient accident—Fatalis lit a cigar forged from her own dragon fire. Smoke curled around her horns as she surveyed her latest plans with a wicked grin.
"Alright girls," she exhaled, the smoke forming the shape of a dragon skull. "Devils are selling contracts, angels are peddling dogma... and no one's selling weapons. That's a market gap—and I'm filling it with bullets and bastardry."
With Kuoh under low-profile surveillance and a base secured deep in the Underworld, Fatalis had launched her latest operation:
Her first recruits? Disgraced noble devils—those exiled for taboo magic or losing in Rating Games. To them, she offered something rare: not redemption, but relevance. A new home where strength and loyalty mattered more than lineage.
Using demonic energy ripped from forbidden relics, she crafted hybrid artifacts—raw, experimental, and volatile, but powerful. No contracts, just allegiance.
Great Red stood nearby, watching a test subject ignite a plasma blade carved with cursed sigils. The air crackled.
"You're insane," she grinned. "I love it."
"Duh. If sanity paid well, I'd be bankrupt," Fatalis said with a smirk. "And I'm a Calamity Dragon. What did you expect? That I'd sit at home, bake cookies, and wait for my husband to tell me what to do? Not my style." She paused. "He didn't explicitly forbid this... I think?"
Crom Cruach sighed. "Big Sis… Hubby's definitely going to lecture you when he hears about this."
"And I'll pretend to listen while braiding his hair or something," Fatalis winked.
The war council was assembled.
Great Red lounged lazily on a throne-shaped chunk of obsidian, spinning a plasma coin between her fingers.
Crom Cruach leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, a small scowl on her face.
On their side, there's the first member, he's immaculate as ever, stood like a sentinel, reading over troop reports.
To these outcasts, she offered gear—crafted in blasphemy and brilliance—that masked their holy signatures. They called themselves The Avernus Wings. Leading them was a twelve-winged angel and twin railguns charged with sacred light.
Saraphiel, former executioner of Heaven, bowed low. "Praise to the Black Dragon. Fatalis-sama, what are your orders?"
Crom raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You're recruiting these guys? Weren't they Heaven's assassins? I heard these guys are sealed in Lower Realms of Heaven after the end of the Great War."
Saraphiel narrowed his eyes. "And you're Crom Cruach. Evil Dragon, now posing as a woman. Why should we trust you?"
Fatalis smirked, pulling Crom onto her lap like a pampered pet. "Relax. She's house-trained. Aren't you, Crom-chan?"
"Ah—n-not in front of everyone!" Crom blushed, glaring at onlookers. "Quit staring or I'll burninate you all into ash!"
The squad stiffened.
"She's treating Crom Cruach like a lapdog… What in the heaven are you, Fatalis-sama?" Saraphiel whispered. His gaze shifted to Great Red. "...And who's the red-haired girl? A relative of Sirzechs Lucifer?"
Great Red's pupils narrowed to slits. Her aura surged—a primal wave of cosmic force.
"Compare me to a devil again, little pigeon," she said, voice layered in otherworldly resonance. "And I'll peel your soul apart scale by scale. Try guessing what I am... before your courage runs out."
The air dropped ten degrees. Even Saraphiel, a veteran of divine wars, felt his knees weaken.
"A-A dragon... but not just that... Stronger than even the Heavenly Dragons..." He swallowed. "Incredible. Truly worthy of leading us, Fatalis-sama."
Fatalis rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Enough fangirling. Give me the update on Heaven."
Saraphiel nodded. "Suspicion is rising. One of our agents was exposed while completing our objectives. Patrols have doubled. I suggest pulling back."
Fatalis blew a smoke ring shaped like a halo, then stabbed it with her finger.
"Nope. We double down. Next time, hit them with divine flashbangs and steal their robes. Angels in underwear make fantastic distractions."
Fatalis turned her attention to a certain girl.
She had found her in the ruined outskirts of American territory, standing over the corpses of six supernatural beasts. Her shield lay shattered at her feet. She was bleeding, limping, and barely standing—yet defiant, her eyes still burning.
Now, she sat atop a dented supply crate, armor removed, arms wrapped in rough gauze. Her breathing was steady, but her body remained tense. Not used to talking. Definitely not used to explaining herself.
Fatalis crouched across from her, a faint smirk curling her lips.
"You fight like a pissed-off tank, kid," she said, flicking ash from her cigar. "But there's pain in that swing. Rage without direction. What's your story?"
The girl's eyes narrowed. "Why do you care?"
"Because I collect people. And I hate surprises. I've seen plenty like you—burning up from the inside until there's nothing left but ash and regret. So tell me... what made you this angry?"
There was a pause. The girl looked away, fingers tightening around the cloth on her forearm.
"...My name's Clarisse La Rue. Daughter of Ares. Camp Half-Blood raised me more than my so-called father ever did. He showed up once—told me I was a warrior, then vanished. I fought tooth and nail for respect. Everyone thought I was a bully. Maybe I was. But no one ever told me I didn't have to be angry to be strong."
"Hmph. You're one of those Greek demigods," Crom Cruach muttered, arms crossed. "Their gods love tossing their spawn into war and calling it character building. Half-truths wrapped in glory. Typical."
Clarisse gave a bitter laugh. "Exactly. Win or die. Glory or nothing. I played their game... until I realized Olympus is just a bunch of polished tyrants with good lighting and better PR."
Fatalis chuckled, leaning back against a scorched wall. "Now that, we agree on."
She looked up at the cracked ceiling, her voice thoughtful.
"There's a guy I know. He comes from a world where power plays out the same way. Religion. Politics. Corporate empires. You either play along, sell your soul, or get crushed. Your gods? They're just shinier versions of the same monsters in nicer clothes."
Clarisse raised an eyebrow. "...So what, you turned rebel?"
"And you? What do you think we are?" Fatalis countered.
She flicked a heavy black medallion toward her—a scorched metal emblem shaped like a dragon devouring a chain. It landed in Clarisse's lap.
"If you're tired of being cannon fodder for divine egos... if you want to choose your path instead of having it written in blood for you—join us."
Clarisse turned the medallion over in her hand, eyes hard. "...What are you guys?"
Fatalis grinned. "We're putting together a little operation. Just a bit of black market, some forbidden tech trading, and—oh—minor global destabilization. We call it the Black Dragon."
"Sounds like war," Clarisse muttered.
"Sounds like profit," Great Red added, arms crossed, eyes glowing with amusement.
"Sounds like judgment," Saraphiel said with a cold smile.
Fatalis's smirk widened. "No, boys and girls. It sounds like fun."
Then her tone darkened.
"And it just so happens... we have unfinished business with Olympus. One of them owes us. And I intend to collect."
Great Red's eyes glinted dangerously. "Right? How dare she abandon our little boy like that? I can't wait to hear her explanation."
Crom Cruach cracked her knuckles. "Oh, I can't wait to see the look on their leader's face. That old pervert'll throw a divine tantrum and probably smite some poor sucker just for sneezing near him."
The air in the room shifted. Dark energy rolled out from the three like a suffocating wave. Clarisse felt her heartbeat quicken—this wasn't a group of rebels.
This was a pack of apex predators.
"...Who is this person you're talking about?" she asked, her voice low. "What's his connection to Olympus?"
Fatalis's gaze softened, but there was still steel in her voice.
"Our story isn't one told to strangers. You want the truth?" She leaned in. "Then earn it, little Lady of War. Prove your loyalty. Prove you belong. Until then… welcome to the edge of the world."
At the center of the room, standing still and silent, was a blue-haired girl cloaked in black. Her arms were wrapped in iron-like gauntlets laced with glowing red runes. Her expression was neutral, unreadable—but something simmered beneath the surface. Pain. Power. Purpose.
Crom leaned toward Fatalis and whispered, "She's the one you pulled from that Purgatory lab, right? I heard she tore through a hell beast battalion in thirteen seconds flat."
"Thirteen?" Great Red scoffed. "They said eleven. And she was half-conscious."
"Who is she, Fatalis-sama?" Saraphiel asked directly, lowering the document in his hand. "Even I can feel her soul is stitched from more than one realm. Human? Devil? Angel? Something else?"
Fatalis, standing behind the girl with arms folded like a satisfied architect, stepped forward and flashed a sly smile.
"Her name is Enri M. Louvre."
"Sounds... human," Clarisse muttered.
"That's because she was human," Fatalis replied. "Before some deranged alchemist-scientist hybrid from the human world decided to experiment with devils. Project 'Seraph Abyss.' They wanted a living bridge between realms. A creature immune to moral laws and spiritual rules. A perfect weapon."
Enri's eyes flickered briefly at the word weapon, but she said nothing.
Saraphiel narrowed his gaze. "And she survived that?"
Fatalis smiled. "She didn't just survive. She ended it. Tore through the facility. Broke the chains they bound her with. And when I found her…" She walked around to Enri's side and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "…she was still standing, bleeding and exhausted—but alive. Alive because her will outlived their cruelty."
The silence that followed was not of judgment. It was awe.
Great Red let out a low whistle. "Damn. I like her already."
Clarisse nodded, eyes narrowed in understanding. "Same fight. Different battleground."
Saraphiel, after a long pause, gave a slow respectful bow. "Then welcome, Enri M. Louvre. May your vengeance sharpen our cause."
Fatalis stepped forward, voice rising with her usual mix of drama and command.
"I didn't go looking for her. I found her while I was exploring potential assets in this world. A lucky encounter, really—because had I come a few hours later, there'd be nothing left of that lab or the girl."
She looked around the room, expression dead serious.
"Make no mistake—she's not here because she needs us. She's here because we offer her what the world never gave: freedom, friend… and a fire to point her rage at."
Fatalis turned to Enri and gave a rare, genuine nod.
"You're not a weapon anymore, Enri. You're a part of Black Dragon now."
Enri met her gaze, and for the first time… she smiled.
Just slightly.
•
Evening – Satria Mansion
The warm glow of sunset bathed the sky in gold and crimson as the family gathered in the living room, the scent of dinner already wafting from the kitchen.
Suddenly, the front door slammed open.
"Tadaima~!!" Satria shouted enthusiastically, carrying Rimuru bridal-style before gently setting her down with a grin.
"Okaerinasai~" Kiyohime greeted with a sultry smile. She folded her fan coyly and tilted her head toward Rimuru. "Ara... someone's glowing tonight. How was your date with Danna-sama, Rimuru-san?"
Rimuru's face lit up in a furious blush. "W-Well... It was nice! Really nice and... umm..." her words melted into mumbles.
Valiana leaned in and wrapped an arm around Rimuru's shoulders, smirking mischievously. "And what, hmm? This smell... wait a second... You two did it, didn't you? Already?! You move faster than I thought."
"A-Ah! Yes—I mean no—I mean... it's not like that!" Rimuru stammered, trying to hide her beet-red face. "It's all Satria's fault! He—he's the one who took the lead!"
Satria blinked in disbelief. "Excuse me? You were the one who showed up wearing that seductive lingerie! What man could resist that? And let's not forget... you practically turned me into a mana battery the whole night." He shivered. "I swear, your stamina is God-tier."
From the side, Jeanne offered a soft but strained smile, arms crossed under her chest. "Welcome home, Master. How was your vacation with Rimuru-san?"
"It was great," Satria said, stepping forward with a grin. "We had a lot of fun, and some chaos too. I'll tell you all the details later. And you, Jeanne—everything okay here while we were gone? Anyone bother you?"
Jeanne shook her head. "Everything's perfect. Too perfect, actually. You're spoiling us a little too much, Master." She glanced at Ophis, who was lounging with a pile of snacks and a chocolate drink, pretending not to hear.
Suddenly—
"Senpai!!!" Koneko dashed in and tackled Satria with a hug. "I missed you so much!"
Satria squinted, gently holding her at arm's length. "...Who are you and what have you done with my Koneko? This level of affection is suspicious."
Koneko blinked. "Eh? What do you mean?"
Then realization struck him. "Wait... you're not Koneko. You're the feline bijuu, aren't you? Matatabi?"
Koneko giggled and scratched her cheek. "Ehehe~ You caught me. Yes, I'm Matatabi. Nice to finally speak to you face to face... even if it's using your little kittens body." She bowed politely.
"Right... and why exactly are you in my little kittens?" Satria raised an eyebrow. "Did Naruto approve this?"
"Of course! Kinda..." Matatabi twirled her finger. "Let's call it a mutual agreement. As for why—well, that's a secret~." She struck a playful pose.
Satria smiled slyly and flicked her forehead. "No secrets in this house."
With a soft poof of magic, Matatabi was ejected from Koneko's body—now in her tiny chibi form with little blue flames flickering around her.
"Owie~! That stings, Satria-kun!" she pouted, rubbing her forehead. "You should treat a lady more gently!"
Satria picked her up with one hand. "You're surprisingly not hot to the touch. I expected burning fur."
"I can adjust my body temperature, you know. I'm a civilized beast. Nyaa~ Oh, yes... that spot right there..." Matatabi purred as he began to scratch under her chin and behind her ears.
"Cuuute~!" Satria cooed. He turned toward Kiyohime and Jeanne. "Girls, can I keep her?"
The two women exchanged tired glances, then sighed in unison.
"As long as you feed her," Kiyohime muttered.
"And don't let her set the curtains on fire,," Jeanne added, narrowing her eyes.
Koneko rubbed her sleepy eyes as she stirred from her nap, only to freeze at the sight before her.
Her beloved Senpai—no, her husband—was nestled on the couch, arms wrapped around a purring chibi Matatabi, who was curled up contentedly in his lap.
Koneko's golden eyes narrowed. She puffed her cheeks, marched over, and wedged herself between them with quiet determination.
"Mine..." she mumbled, hugging his side possessively. Then, as if catching herself, she cleared her throat. "I mean... welcome home, Senpai."
"Nyaa~" Vaporeon mewled softly, hopping up beside them and curling against Satria's leg. Her fins twitched as she pressed into him, clearly soothed by his warmth.
Before he could respond, another voice echoed from the shadows with regal smoothness.
"Mmm... yes..." came the sultry hum of the Void Dragon as she gracefully leapt onto the couch. "You always smell so divine, Beloved. A perfect blend of chaos and calm..."
She promptly coiled herself around his back, resting her chin on his shoulder.
Satria blinked, now surrounded by affectionate beings on all sides.
With a warm laugh, he wrapped his arms around all of them. "Man... I really have my hands full, don't I?" He smiled softly. "But I wouldn't trade this for anything."
Then his brow furrowed slightly.
"Wait a minute... where's my trio of troublemakers?" He scanned the room.
"Ara~ They said they were going out to... 'play' a little. But no need to worry, Danna-sama. They promised to be back in time for dinner."
Satria's eye twitched. "Play? Yeah... that word doesn't exactly fill me with comfort when those three say it..."
He rubbed his temple.
"Still, if they're happy... I guess it's fine?" he chuckled with a tinge of worry in his voice.
"Fine?!" Rimuru snapped, her eye twitching as she crossed her arms. "Dear... you do remember what 'playing' meant last time, right?"
"Right, right. Point taken." Satria winced, nodding slowly. "I'll send a few clones to keep an eye on them, just in case. And prep a backup apology gift."
The girls around him cuddled closer again, drawing a sigh of mock defeat from Satria as he patted their heads one by one.
"Alright, alright. But after this... I deserve some dessert and a long nap."
"You're the dessert," the Void Dragon whispered.
"Mmmhmm~" Rimuru and Kiyohime chimed together.
Koneko simply growled. "Mine..."
•
"Mmm~ What's on the menu today? It smells amazing."
Valiana strolled into the outdoor kitchen, wiping sweat from her brow after finishing her training in the gravity room. Dressed in sleek black sportswear that hugged her toned form, her defined abs glistened slightly under the fading sunlight.
"We're having Unagi tonight," Kiyohime replied, carefully overseeing the preparations with serene grace. "Danna-sama wanted to try making it himself—something he picked up during our trip. I'm just here to make sure nothing explodes."
Valiana laughed and stretched lazily, her golden eyes gleaming. "Well, if it smells this good, then I've got high hopes." She leaned in playfully before grinning. "But first, I'll go clean up. Wouldn't want to serve sweat as a side dish, right?"
"Please do. You're practically radiating training effort," Kiyohime said with a small smirk. "And use the cherry blossom bath. The scent will suit you."
"Aye, ma'am~" Valiana winked and vanished toward the bath with a trail of steam in her wake.
An hour later, the air shimmered—and with a burst of teleportation magic, the rest of the wild trio arrived.
"Home sweet home!" Fatalis called out, spinning once with her arms wide. Her nostrils twitched, and her eyes gleamed. "Ooooh~ Something smells divine!"
"Ahh... is that Unagi I detect?" Crom inhaled deeply, her icy eyes warming. "Grilled eel... Japan really does know how to honor flavor. I'm impressed, husband. I didn't think you had the patience for something so delicate."
"Leave it to me." Satria grinned confidently as he brushed the glistening fillets with a sweet soy-based tare sauce, flipping them over charcoal with precision. "I've been practicing. This dish will knock you out—in a good way."
"Confident, aren't we?" Great Red purred, approaching from behind. With a sultry smirk, she leaned over, pressing her generous chest against Satria's shoulder. "Well, if it does live up to the hype... maybe I'll give you a special little reward tonight."
She whispered something teasing into his ear, causing a noticeable twitch in his expression.
"Oi! Move it, Red!" Rimuru appeared out of nowhere, shoving the voluptuous dragoness aside with a puffed-up expression. "Stop trying to seduce the chef while he's handling open flames!"
"Ara~ How protective," Great Red chuckled, unfazed. "Are you worried I'll distract him into burning your portion?"
"More like worried you'll smother him before dinner even starts," Rimuru huffed, crossing her arms.
Jeanne, watching the chaos with an amused expression, simply shook her head.
"Honestly... every evening with this family feels like a festival."
Suddenly, a radiant glow lit up the twilight garden. Three figures emerged from the light—Kurumi, Fran, and a regal white-haired woman whose presence screamed nobility and overwhelming power.
"We're home," Kurumi and Fran said in unison, stepping forward with matching smiles.
The elegant newcomer slowly surveyed the house and its surrounding garden. Her sharp eyes took in the warm atmosphere, the fusion of Indonesian, Japanese, and Western architecture, and above all—the potent magical barrier protecting the estate.
"So… this is your home, Master?" the white-haired woman asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a graceful flick. "Hmph. Cozy. Peaceful. Not like my cold, silent castle… though, if I must be honest..." She raised her chin proudly. "My castle was a gazillion times grander."
"Ara~ Is that so?" Kiyohime's soft voice cut through the moment as she stepped forward, eyes narrowing slightly. "And who, might I ask, is this regal guest you've brought to our home, Kurumi-san?"
Kurumi giggled behind her hand. "Fufufu~ My apologies for not sending word ahead. But I couldn't exactly leave her behind. Would you care to introduce yourself, O Queen of the Fae?"
The regal woman stepped forward and gave a dignified nod.
"Very well. My name is Morgan Le Fay. I am a Servant, summoned by my Master, Kurumi. It is a pleasure to meet you all."
The moment the name Morgan Le Fay left her lips, Jeanne stiffened. "Wait... you? You're from my world." Her expression darkened with cautious curiosity. "The Witch of Britannia?"
Morgan arched an eyebrow. "You recognize me? Then perhaps you're like me... a fellow Servant?"
Jeanne shook her head softly, smiling with grace. "No. I was not summoned—I met my Master during a Singularity. Together, we corrected broken timelines. And... he did something that allowed me to remain in this world as a human." She bowed respectfully. "My name is Jeanne d'Arc. It is... interesting to meet you, Queen Morgan."
Morgan tilted her head thoughtfully. "A Servant turned human by his hand...? Fascinating. You're full of surprises, aren't you, Satria?" Her eyes then turned to Fran. "And you, little black cat... we fought beside one another in the Labyrinth, did we not? Tell me—has this man truly earned your loyalty?"
Fran stepped forward, her expression warm—but her voice dropped dangerously low as she moved close to Satria.
"He has... but what is this?" she hissed into his ear, her tone deceptively sweet. "I leave for one mission—one—and come back to find this many new girls around thou?" A black aura surged around her, causing the temperature to drop a few degrees.
Satria froze, sweat trickling down his temple. "F-Fran... calm down. Please. I-I promise I'll explain everything... after dinner, okay? Just... let me finish cooking first... pretty please?"
In his head: 'Why the hell did I think building a harem with multiple yanderes was a good idea?! I'm a moron!'
Fran narrowed her eyes... then sighed. "Fine." She turned with a huff and sat down at the dining table beside the others—grumbling but ultimately obedient.
Koneko greeted her with a soft smile. "Welcome back, Fran. How was the mission?"
Fran let out a small sigh, her mood visibly lightening in Koneko's presence. "Tiring... but nothing we couldn't handle. Though next time, I might bring a leash for him." She gave Satria a side-eye.
"Food is ready, my ladies," Satria announced with a flourish as he carefully placed the steaming platters of grilled Unagi on the dining table, the sweet, smoky aroma wafting through the air and making everyone's stomachs rumble.
"Hmmm~ I was supposed to stay angry..." Fran muttered, visibly torn between her lingering suspicion and the seductive scent of dinner. "But this... this smells too good..."
Kurumi, seated beside her, quickly grabbed her hand. "Stay strong, Fran-chan. This is how he gets us every time. First food... then pampering... and before we know it, he's got us wrapped around his finger again."
"Tch," Satria clicked his tongue dramatically, pretending to be hurt. "You girls wound me. But hey, no worries—maybe the drink menu will win you over."
He handed out beautifully designed menus. "Anything you want, I'll make it fresh for you. Drinks on the house, of course."
Crom leaned in with interest. "Hmm… any alcohol options? I feel like Soju or cold beer would hit the spot with Unagi."
"I second that!" Fatalis chimed in, already eyeing an imaginary bottle.
"Make it three," Great Red added with a smirk, stretching casually in her chair.
"Ugh… yeah, same here," Valiana muttered, wiping sweat from her post-training glow. "I deserve a cold one after that gravity session."
Kiyohime raised an eyebrow, folding her arms in quiet protest. "Ladies… Danna-sama isn't very fond of alcohol, please be more considerate."
"Kiyohime is right," Jeanne nodded in agreement. "There are better options. I'll take the Matcha Oat Latte, please, Master."
Kurumi smiled playfully, tapping her nail on the menu. "Ara~ I'll behave this time. This Red Coffee Mocktail looks good—I'll have that."
"I want this Milo Dinosaur!" Ophis pointed at the colorful picture. "It looks sweet… and mighty."
"Same!" Fran and Koneko echoed, their eyes shining with excitement.
Rimuru tilted her head cutely, inching closer to Satria with a dramatic pout. "So… no alcohol? Not even a sip? Pleeease, just one drink? For us?" She turned the full puppy-eye mode on—dangerous level.
Satria sighed, looking up at the ceiling like he was praying for strength. "...Fine. One drink. Each. But I swear—only one. No going crazy."
"Yaaay! We love you!!" the girls cried out in glee.
Jeanne massaged her temples and sighed with an exhausted smile. "This is exactly what I meant, Master. We are definitely having a talk later about your ability to say 'no.'"
Amid the chaos, Satria turned toward the last woman at the table—Morgan Le Fay, who had remained composed and quiet, still studying the menu like it held ancient secrets.
"And what about our guest? Found anything that suits your tastes, Lady Morgan?"
The Ice Queen glanced up slowly, her eyes cool and calculating.
"Strange... You're called an 'Emperor,' and yet your demeanor doesn't match the title. You serve food, smile easily, and cater to every whim like a tavern keeper, not a monarch. Tell me, Satria... what kind of Emperor are you?"
Satria met her gaze without flinching and smiled. "Feel free to judge for yourself. I don't wear my crown on my head—I let my actions speak for me."
Morgan stared for a long moment, trying to read him—but it was like staring into a mirror with no reflection. 'No divine pressure… no aura... Yet, in the Labyrinth, the power he unleashed felt as if reality itself trembled. He hides it so well… far too well.' She finally nodded. "Very well. Then, I'll order whatever you're having. Let's see if your actions taste as bold as your words."
•
After dinner, the group gathered around the outdoor fire pit, the golden flames flickering gently under the starry night sky. The ambiance was calm, yet alive with laughter and the scent of roasted marshmallows drifting through the cool air.
Satria lounged confidently across a plush, fur-covered seat—half-reclined like a conquering king at rest. His white jacket was casually unbuttoned, revealing the hard lines of his sculpted chest and abs, exuding both strength and allure. His slicked-back hair caught the firelight, and a cocky smirk curled his lips—equal parts charm and trouble.
Clustered around him were his wives, their radiant smiles as sweet as the grapes they occasionally plucked and fed to him. Fatalis and Kurumi leaned into his shoulders, both playfully toying with his jacket and hair. A third girl—a petite, black-haired neko—sat cross-legged at his side, giggling as she nibbled contentedly on a leaf of enchanted catnip.
Kurumi raised a brow, amused. "You sly man… So this is your peace offering for Fran-chan? I expected drama, not... cuteness. Even I'm surprised." She glanced fondly at Fran, who was curled happily in Satria's lap, her earlier jealousy soothed by affection—and the gift of her favorite snack. 'She's so adorable… just like Tora. Hmmm... maybe I should bring him home next time. I'm sure Darling will approve.'
"What can I say?" Satria shrugged smugly. "Daddy knows best. Hue hue hue~"
"Beb~ Why'd you cut your long hair?" Fatalis asked, brushing her fingers through the shorter strands. "It looked so good on you—totally like the main character from one of those Cultivation novels I read." Then she smiled. "But this new style suits you too. More… dangerous."
Satria chuckled. "It's just more comfortable. I don't know how those cultivation guys handle it. Keeping it neat takes forever. Not worth it unless I'm planning to become Immortal Emperor of Shampoo." But his smirk faded slightly as he narrowed his eyes at Fatalis. "Now... you. What were you doing outside with Red and Crom? I smell... trouble. Don't tell me you three caused another international incident."
Fatalis puffed up her cheeks. "Mo~ You make us sound like bad guys! Relax! You'll find out soon enough. We're working on something amazing—something that'll blow your silly 'Shadow Garden' out of the water!" She turned dramatically. "Right, girls?"
Crom raised a hand weakly. "Uh... Just for the record, it wasn't my idea. I was dragged into this."
Great Red gave a sly grin. "Well… it does smell like potential."
"Hahaha!" Satria burst into laughter. "Greater than my Shadow Garden? In your dreams! Tell you what—if you actually succeed, I'll shave my head and go full Top-G style!"
Fatalis gasped. "You better not go back on your word, mister! You'll see! We'll prove it!"
Rimuru tilted his head. "Wait… What's 'Top-G' supposed to be?"
Fatalis rolled her eyes. "It's that bald guy on the internet who calls himself an alpha male. Says all kinds of ridiculous stuff to 'motivate' people. Super loud, super weird. Basically an online cult leader with muscles."
Rimuru stared at Satria, then snorted. "Really? I can't imagine you as that kind of guy... Wait—" she looked again, tilting her head. "Actually, with that smirk and body posture… Yeah, you could totally pull it off."
Kiyohime giggled, placing her hands over her cheeks. "Ah~ Danna-sama, even if you shaved your head and wore sunglasses all day, you'd still be impossibly sexy to me. Hmm... Now I kind of want to support Fatalis just to see it!"
Kurumi leaned in, voice honeyed with mischief.
"Ara~ That would be a sight... But more importantly—Darling, I've been meaning to ask. Is it true you met her? The Goddess D from Kumoko-chan's world?"
Satria nodded casually, swirling the drink in his hand. "Yeah. I met her. With Rimuru. She's... interesting."
Morgan's eyes sharpened at that. "To think you're capable of traversing worlds and bypassing divine barriers as well? That's not something most mortals—or even deities—can accomplish easily. This will be difficult."
Satria tilted his head, intrigued. "And what exactly do you mean by 'difficult'? You sound like you're scheming something."
Morgan didn't flinch. Her expression was as composed as ever. "You misunderstand. I do not scheme—I prepare. And right now, I'm preparing to learn everything I can about you, 'Emperor'... because beings who can leap through realms and return unchanged are rare indeed." She sipped her drink slowly, eyes never leaving him.
"And potentially very dangerous to take my Master back from you without preparation."
"Wait, wait, what did you just say?" Satria blinked, wearing the expression of a full-on shocked Pikachu. "Can you repeat that real quick for the people in the back?"
Morgan crossed her arms and huffed. "Hmph! You heard me perfectly. I won't say it again. I'm taking my Master back!" She jabbed a thumb toward Kurumi, her voice full of royal indignation.
A long silence followed.
"Yep. Just another normal day in the life of Satria," Rimuru muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Now even a queen wants to kidnap one of his girls. Can we please go one week without interdimensional drama?"
Fatalis giggled, winking. "Careful, Rimuru-chan. With the way things are going, someone might come for you next."
"Me? Hah! No way," Rimuru waved dismissively. "I don't have that kind of luck. I've never had a special relationship with anyone." She paused. '...I think? Wait... does Shizue-san count? We literally became one. Ugh... what would she think if she saw this circus now? She told me to live happily but... damn it, Satria!'
Satria burst into laughter. "HAHAHA! Did you all hear this frosty popsicle? 'I'm taking my Master back', she says!" He pointed dramatically at Kurumi's hand. "Lady, do you see that ring? You know what that means, right? That's not just a ring—it's waifu-level commitment!"
Kurumi twirled her hair, smiling slyly. "Ara~ I didn't expect to be fought over tonight. How exciting~ Should I start charging admission for this love triangle?"
Morgan's eyes sharpened like daggers. "...Master? Are you telling me you're married to this buffoon?" She scanned the gathered girls. "And they too?"
Kurumi nodded sweetly. "Mhm~ Some of us are already married to him. It's part of his culture—you marry the one you love, and tie the knot formally. Isn't he such a good boy?"
Morgan's eye twitched. "'Good boy'? He's an unfaithful degenerate! And you—you're okay with this? My Master deserves better!" She turned toward Fran. "Surely you agree with me, right, little kitten?"
Suddenly, a floating sentient sword—Shishou, aka Bobon—emerged, eyes wide with horror. "NOOOOO!!! Not you too, Fran! My sweet Fran! You betrayed me! CURSE YOU, SATRIA!!"
Fran simply smiled, brushing a finger over the elegant ring on her hand. "Who knows~? All you need to know is that I will always stand by my Lord. Nothing will change that."
Morgan staggered like she'd been stabbed. "I will not let you to treat my Master like some... mistress! Disgraceful!" She clenched her fists. "With me, she could be a queen! Why settle for being one among many?"
Satria raised a brow and snorted. "Oh, that's rich—coming from you, Morgan Le Fay. Last I checked, you weren't exactly known for your... relationship stability."
Great Red leaned back, arms crossed and tails wagged slightly in annoyance. "Tch. What is it with royalty and drama?" She narrowed her eyes at Morgan. "You do realize you're picking a fight in our territory, right? Hope you brought more than titles."
Morgan growled. "What does that have to do with—"
Satria cut her off, grinning devilishly. "Also, uh... you do realize you're both women, right? Like—how's that supposed to work?"
Morgan gave him a death glare. "Tch! Gender is irrelevant! Have you forgotten who I am?"
Satria put on a mock-thoughtful face. "Oh right... you're British. That explains everything." He put a hand to his chest dramatically. "Maybe we should send you back to the UK. You'd love the cultural diversity over there. The left wing will worship you like a Goddess. You could lead them into a glorious revolution!"
"You... you insufferable man!" Morgan's eyebrow twitched violently. For the first time in a long time, she felt the raw urge to incinerate someone on the spot.
"Ahahaha!" Fatalis laughed way too loud and hard. "Oh. My. Goodness! A royal witch fighting over Kurumi!? This is better than anything I've seen on FaeFlix!" She slapped Satria's shoulder. "You idiot! How are you this magnetic and this hated at the same time?"
Jeanne exhaled deeply, hand over her heart. "Lord above... How did I go from fighting for France to this?" She looked between Satria and Morgan. "This man is a troublemaker. And yet... somehow... peace blooms around him. Ugh. I hate how poetic that sounded."
Before magic could start flying, Kiyohime clapped her hands sharply. "Enough!" Her voice sliced through the rising chaos like a blade. "In this family, everyone is equal. There is no caste, no queen, no concubine. Right, Danna-sama?"
Satria nodded quickly, hands up in surrender. "Exactly! We're all just... one big happy chaotic Family!"
Kiyohime smiled sweetly. "So Morgan-san, there's no need to worry. Here, we all share him fairly... eventually."
Morgan scowled but said nothing, fuming quietly as the others resumed lounging and teasing by the fire.
"Ah, I almost forgot," Satria suddenly announced, stretching as he stood. "This Saturday, we're all going to Tempest. Pack your stuff and make sure everyone's cleared their schedule."
"Oh~ I've always wanted to see the country you built, Danna-sama," Kiyohime said sweetly, clasping her hands. "I wonder what it's like..."
"Is everything okay over there?" Rimuru asked, concerned.
"No, not really," Satria sighed, rubbing his temples. "Lately, we've been getting a lot of attention. Specifically, after God from my original world decided to drop a little 'gift' that made us stand out a lot."
"Wait. Your world's God? You mean… the Biblical one?" Valiana leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "What's the difference between that God and the ones here?"
"I didn't meet the Big Guy directly, but I did meet one of His angels. And let me tell you… that guy was terrifyingly strong. Even I didn't expect someone that absurdly strong to exist."
The entire group went silent.
Even Albion blinked. "You're joking… If you say that, then just how powerful the God from your world? I can't even begin to imagine."
"Yeah… I've met angels here too, but the ones from my world?" Satria shook his head. "It's like trying to compare candlelight to a supernova. Too abstract to even describe. Let's skip that topic for now—trust me, it'll just give us all a headache."
"Angel…" Jeanne stepped forward, a note of tension in her voice. "Then, Master… tell me the truth. What's the real meaning behind our existence? Behind faith? Behind me?"
Satria looked at her for a long moment, then gave a gentle smile. "Jeanne… just keep believing in what you believe. You're not wrong. You never were."
"…Really?" she asked again, almost pleading.
"Trust me, okay?" he said, nodding.
"Anyway!" Koneko interrupted the tension, tilting her head. "What kind of 'gift' did your God give us, senpai?"
Satria gave a sly grin. "Oh, you'll see for yourself later, Koneko-chan. Just wait. And while we're there, I'll be introducing all of you to the citizens of Tempest."
"Hmph." Morgan crossed her arms, watching the exchange with a suspicious eye. "So what kind of kingdom did this buffoon build, exactly? Someone enlighten me."
"I can explain that," Rimuru raised h raised her hand with a small smile. "Tempest is a nation we built on the foundation of coexistence. Every race—human, demi-human, dragon, devil, spirit—everyone is welcome as long as they abide by the laws of our Empire."
Morgan turned her cold eyes on her. "Really? And what are you, exactly? You're not human, that's certain. And what's your role in this so-called utopia?"
"I'm his Empress," Rimuru answered answered without hesitation.
"You? His Empress?" Morgan raised a brow. "Then who came up with this dream of coexistence?"
"I did." Rimuru nodded firmly. "I truly believe mutual understanding is possible. Our beliefs might differ, but unity isn't impossible. Besides… Satria comes from a place where such ideals do work. Together, we believe we can make it real."
Morgan gave her a long, unreadable look before responding, "You really believe in that naïve dream? That races with entirely different histories, cultures, and values can coexist without tearing each other apart?" Her voice turned cold. "It's in the instinct of all sentient beings to seek dominance over others. Sooner or later, your 'coexistence' will crack."
Everyone fell quiet. Even Ophis stopped munching on snacks.
[Darkest Voice in Satria's mind: "She's not wrong. You've seen it yourself—people clashing over race, belief, identity. Even in our own country, unity came after bloodshed."]
"You," Morgan continued, locking eyes with Satria. "You're not as idealistic as she is. You know I'm right. So—how do you respond to this?"
Satria stood, brushing off his coat and answering with a calm but firm tone. "Yeah… but I still think it's worth trying," He had witnessed the cost of "Unity in Diversity" firsthand. His homeland had scars to prove it. "It's simple. Anyone—regardless of race, origin, or religion—is welcome in my kingdom. But they must submit to the laws, contribute to the society, and pledge loyalty to Tempest." His tone sharpened. "Those who don't? They'll face punishment—severe punishment. I'm not dumb enough to open the gates to everyone blindly. You want in? You go through the process. You respect the culture, the peace, and the people. You mess around?" He smirked. "Then... You're going to have a bad time."
Morgan stared for a moment, then chuckled, shaking her head. "Hmph… I misjudged you. Behind that clownish attitude, you're surprisingly cunning."
To be continued...