Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

Clutching my throbbing head, I groaned as pain pulsed right behind my eyes. I immediately shoved myself up off the dirt-covered ground, cursing under my breath.

"Fuckin' hell," I muttered, fingers massaging my temple while my other hand smacked at the dust clinging to my thighs. The rough texture of dried leaves and loose soil stuck to my skin like static. "Stupid, fuckin' Fae. Could've at least dropped me somewhere that didn’t smell like moss and regret."

As the dizziness started to fade, I took a good look around. Yep. Trees, more trees, a crap ton of bushes, and the faint chirping of birds I couldn't name. Definitely a forest. Not one of those soft, anime forests either. This one had grit, thorns, and a few too many shadows. Clicking my tongue, I turned my focus inward.

Time for a status check.

Blue-ish green skin? Still glowing faintly? Check. Pink tattoos running like circuitry across my arms and ribs? Check. Short height? Unfortunately, yes. Bright green hair that stuck out like a glow stick in the dark? Absolutely.

Yup, this wasn't some drug-induced hallucination or dream. No matter how much I hoped it was. I'd been chosen as an Agent by [The Company], and somehow—some fucked up way—I landed in this forested corner of [Highschool of the Dead].

I used to think it was all fantasy bullshit. A fever dream spun out of burnout and stress, maybe a side effect of all the energy drinks I'd downed while bingeing late-night anime marathons. But nah. This was real. Tangibly, irreversibly, absolutely real. And the Fae bitch—Morgana—she’d walked me through the whole [Build] process, all gentle smiles and cryptic remarks. Her guidance was sweet, sure, but not even close to helpful when it came to the reality of what I’d signed up for.

Now? I'm stuck wearing the skin of Rebecca from Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Got her body, got her hair, got her wild little tattoos. And, I’ve got enhanced strength and cybernetic reflexes on top. Woo-fucking-hoo. Real party. Real goddamn useful when the zombie apocalypse kicks off any minute now.

And I mean literally any minute.

Because of course, in my infinite wisdom, I chose the [Z-Day] condition for this scenario. Which meant today—right fucking now—was the day shit hits the fan.

"Shit." I spat again, more to myself than anything. Just remembering that dumbass choice made me want to slap myself.

With adrenaline kicking in, I pivoted toward the nearest tree and began climbing, my cybernetic limbs helping me scale it like I’d done it a hundred times. Thank the mods for that, at least. The bark scraped against my palms as I vaulted up branch after branch, and when I finally reached the top, the canopy opened into a wide view.

"Trees... trees... trees... Mountain..." I scanned, muttering aloud. Then my eyes caught something. "Ah! A building!"

With a blink, my built-in optical zoom kicked in. It took just a moment to enhance the view: red brick, chain-link fence, tall windows—school architecture. Dead giveaway. It had to be the school from the anime. 

"That better be what I think it is." I mumbled. Hope flickered inside my chest, but I shoved it down. Hope gets you killed in apocalypse scenarios.

Without wasting another second, I dropped from the tree, landing with a heavy thud. My bones barely twinged from the ten-meter fall, another perk from my upgraded body. I took off toward the building, sprinting with speed that would've made my old self wheeze and puke.

As I weaved through trees, I was starting to get a feel for Rebecca's body. My new body. Faster than I’d ever been—faster than any average human, but not superhero levels of speed. Just enough to blur at the edges of vision. My reflexes were sharp, letting me twist and slide around obstacles before they were even fully registered by my eyes. It was exhilarating... and terrifying.

Still, my skin hadn’t toughened up much. Human-tier durability. Branches nicked at me along the way, drawing small red lines on my arms and shoulders. Didn’t hurt too bad, but I made a mental note: avoid collisions unless you want to look like you wrestled a porcupine.

After five minutes of straight running—tracked by the precise clock embedded in my cybernetic eyes—I wasn’t winded. Not even close. That alone told me how much better this body’s stamina was. By the ten-minute mark, I was starting to feel the burn. A little tightness in the lungs, a pulse in my thighs. Manageable, but definitely pushing my limits.

So I slowed down, ducking behind a thick tree and catching my breath. While I rested, I mentally reviewed my [Build].

This version of [Highschool of the Dead] didn’t cost many [Credits] to access. Which meant I didn’t have much to spend. And when I cranked up the [Intensity]—you know, to make it all more "authentic"—my budget got even tighter. So, my [Binding] was just [Mystical Tattoo]. For [Talents], I took [Body Tune-Up], [Martial Talent], and [Communication Talent]. Solid picks, but no flash. And under [Lures]? Just one: [Sticky Fingers].

Looking back, it was a bare-bones setup. Not a lot of room for mistakes. Not much wiggle room if shit hit harder than I expected. And it would hit harder. This world wasn’t the worst in the catalog, but it wasn’t a fucking cakewalk either.

I could take a [Loan] from [The Company], of course. More [Credits], more perks. But I knew better than to make deals unless absolutely necessary. The fine print in those things was trickier than a drunk politician’s promises. And besides, I had pride. Maybe misplaced, but still mine.

The biggest issue wasn’t the zombies.

It was... well, me.

Rebecca—my vessel—stood out like a sore thumb. Alien-colored skin. Hair that glowed in moonlight. Tattoos that looked like they were drawn with radioactive paint. In a world just about to go through a total societal collapse, blending in was the name of the game. And I stuck out like a beacon.

Maybe I could spin it, say it was all tattoos and body modding. Some kind of cosplay gone too far. With everything else going on, people would be too busy running from the undead to question me too deeply. At least, I hoped so.

Shaking the thought off, I resumed my run, this time pacing myself. I had to reach that school before everything went to hell. Before the outbreak began. Before the screams and sirens started echoing down the hallways.

I didn’t have time to overthink. I didn’t have the luxury of regret.

I just had to survive.

And maybe, just maybe, figure out how to thrive in this fucked-up world.

The sun was just beginning to climb past the treetops when I finally reached the edge of the forest. My heart picked up, this time not from running. The building was unmistakable now. Chain-link fences around the perimeter. Wide paved lot out front. The sound of birds had faded, replaced by something that tickled my senses—like static before a storm. Something in the air felt... tense.

The school stood there, still and waiting.

I stayed low, creeping closer to the outer fence. If the outbreak hadn’t started yet, I still had a chance to slip in, prep, and get my bearings. If it had... well, then things were about to get loud. Either way, the clock was ticking.

I could feel it in my bones.

And Rebecca’s instincts? My instincts? They were screaming.

No. That wasn’t my instincts screaming—no gut feeling, no sixth sense flaring up. That was a man. A full-grown man yelling in pain.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" I cursed under my breath, adrenaline already hammering in my bloodstream as I scrambled up and over the school’s perimeter wall. My feet hit the ground on the other side, and my eyes immediately landed on the source: a man, clutching his arm and writhing on the pavement. His skin was too pale, his movements too jerky. Not good.

"Are you okay?!" a woman cried out nearby. If the surge of adrenaline wasn't already eating away at my patience, I might've snapped, asked her what kind of dumbass question that was. Instead, I clenched my jaw and bolted straight toward the group of teachers that had gathered around the man like curious sheep.

The moment I saw him jerk and twist unnaturally, his teeth bared and inching dangerously close to the ankle of one of the female teachers, I didn’t hesitate. My foot came up, and I drop-kicked him square in the chest. He flew back with a sickening thud.

"What the hell!?" one of the teachers yelled as I hit the ground beside them, already pushing myself upright, eyes never leaving the bastard I’d just sent flying.

"Young lady! What do you think you're doing?!" the woman from earlier screeched at me, horror and disbelief all over her face.

"Saving your life, dumbass." I snapped, voice sharp enough to cut steel. Lucky for her, that was all I said. I yanked the mop from another teacher’s stunned grip, broke off the plastic head against my knee with a loud crack, and without any further warning, drove the jagged end through the twitching man’s skull.

He stopped moving after that.

Behind me, the teachers screamed.

I didn’t flinch.

On any other day, I probably would've screamed too. Might’ve even panicked. But today? Today I was pissed.

"Shut the fuck up already! Can’t you see you're drawing more of them here?!" I snapped, pointing toward the school gates, where the sound of screaming had attracted more of those shambling, twitching, bloody things.

The adults turned their heads, and their faces went pale. One old teacher fell straight on his ass, muttering nonsense as his eyes finally registered the growing horde outside the gate—the torn skin, the vacant eyes, the exposed bones.

"Whu-what the hell!? Why do they all look like that?!" the man stammered.

"The fuck can't you understand!? They're fucking zombies! See!?" I barked, stabbing one in the chest as it reached the bars. The creature only groaned and pushed harder. The teachers gasped.

The zombie didn’t drop.

"Zo-bu-this is—zombies aren't real! This is a prank, yeah!? A prank!" another teacher cried out, looking like he was two seconds from a full mental breakdown.

"I don't know what your deal is, you little delinquent, but—"

I didn’t let him finish. My hand cracked across his face.

"Fucking... ugh! This is not a prank. They’re literally zombies. And unless you want to end up as a snack, you better get your asses moving before they break in!" I shoved the blood-stained end of the mop into his chest for emphasis, glaring at him as if I could slap reason into all of them at once.

"Now! Damn it! That gate’s not going to hold much longer, and there’s more of them coming! Start moving! Warn the students!"

Finally, that got them moving. One of the younger teachers swore under his breath and broke into a sprint, heading for the main building.

"Han-san! What are you doing!?" another teacher called after him, eyes wide.

"I’m going to the Principal’s office! We need to get the students somewhere safe!" he shouted back.

Smart. Too bad he was going to be too late.

Right as he reached the front doors, the gate gave in with a groaning screech of metal. And then—

"Fuck!"

Instinct kicked in. I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the nearest person to me—turns out, it was that same female teacher—and pulled her along as the zombies surged forward like a goddamn tsunami. I didn’t look back. No time for that. Screams erupted behind us, bone-chilling and too close.

We barreled through the school's front doors, and I jammed the broken mop handle between the metal bars of the handles, forming a poor excuse for a lock. The doors were mostly glass. It wouldn’t stop them, not for long—but maybe a few precious seconds.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—"

I turned to face the woman I’d dragged with me. She was on the floor, back pressed to the wall, knees pulled to her chest, tears streaming freely as she stared at the chaos outside. The moans. The blood. The teachers. Her friends, maybe.

I clicked my tongue, more annoyed than sympathetic. "Get yourself together, woman. If you don’t want to end up like them, stop crying and move your ass."

Harsh? Maybe. Necessary? Definitely.

Her eyes met mine, filled with disbelief, but something must’ve clicked because she gave a shaky nod. She was still crying, still trembling, but at least she was functional.

"Good. Now, take me somewhere we can get weapons. Anything usable."

She blinked. "We-weapons?"

I groaned and rubbed my forehead. "We need shit to defend ourselves. You got anything like that here? Brooms, mops, sticks? I don’t care if it’s a damn baseball bat, just point the way."

She looked toward the stairs. "There’s a supply closet on the second floor."

"Perfect." I glanced behind me—zombies were now slamming their bodies against the glass doors, groaning, smearing blood and ichor across the panes.

"Let’s go. Stick close and do exactly what I say. Don’t want you dying just yet."

I didn’t wait for her response. I grabbed her hand and sprinted for the stairs. Every second counted.

The hallway was empty, eerily silent except for the rapid thud of our footsteps echoing off the walls. I could still hear the moans from below, but they were distant—for now. We reached the second floor, and the woman pointed to a door at the end of the corridor.

"There! That’s the supply closet!"

I let go of her hand and rushed over, testing the knob. Locked. Of course it was. I took a step back, slammed my foot into the door near the handle, and felt it splinter with a loud crack. One more kick and it burst open.

Inside was a goldmine. Mops, brooms, buckets, cleaning chemicals—nothing ideal, but all we had.

"Grab what you can carry." I told her, already sifting through the gear. I found a metal mop handle, unscrewed it from the base, and tested the weight. It’d do.

She grabbed a heavy spray bottle and a dustpan. Not great, but it was something.

Then the glass downstairs shattered.

I froze, then leaned out into the hallway. I could hear them. Moaning. Shuffling. Closer.

"Time’s up," I muttered. I tossed her a second broom. "Hope you’re good at swinging, because we’ve got company."

We backed down the hallway, slow and steady, the sound of undead groans growing louder with every passing second. I could see shadows moving up the stairwell now.

"Where’s the nearest classroom?" I asked.

She pointed to a door on our left. I nodded and yanked it open. It was empty. We darted inside and slammed it shut behind us.

I shoved a desk against the door.

Then silence.

Just for a moment.

I took a breath, then turned to her. She was breathing hard, knuckles white around the broom handle.

"What’s your name?"

"Kyoko."

"Alright, Kyoko...-san. I’m Rebecca. And we’re going to survive this."

She looked at me like I’d grown a second head. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because," I said, gripping my makeshift weapon tighter, "I don’t make promises I can’t keep."

She didn’t know it, but that was a fact. An absolute truth, etched into the marrow of my existence.

And in a world gone to hell, truth like that? Might be the only thing keeping us alive.

{Kyoko's POV}

This was unreal. Impossible. The kind of shit that only happened in movies or nightmares. But seeing her—the woman, Rebecca—stab yet another zombie right between the eyes with a bent, broken metal mop she’d twisted into a weapon with her bare hands... there was no room left for denial. No space for disbelief. This wasn’t a drill, a dream, or some hallucinatory breakdown. Zombies were real. And my students... I mourn for all those who hadn’t made it. For the ones whose screams still rang in my ears, haunting me, mocking my helplessness.

"How are you doing?" she asked. Rebecca. The woman who saved my life like it was nothing, like she'd done it a thousand times before.

I could only nod, hands gripping the mop in my own hands so tightly my knuckles ached. I didn’t trust my voice to work, didn’t trust myself not to sob or scream.

She was strange. Not just in the obvious ways, either. Rebecca had this look, this vibe. Short, barely over five feet, with the frame of a delinquent middle schooler, but she carried herself like a demon out of some war-torn manga. Her entire body was tattooed—like, not one patch of bare skin—and her dyed green hair looked like it hadn't seen a brush in a while. Her eyes were the weirdest thing, though. Strange sclera, maybe contacts, maybe not. I'd never seen anything like them. Unsettling. But despite everything screaming at me that she was a walking red flag, she had saved me.

Konemi-san had turned so fast. One second he was yelling about locking the pain, the next he was lunging at me, mouth frothing and eyes blank. I had frozen, not realizing how close to death I was. And then Rebecca came out of nowhere, drop-kicking the bastard across the hallway like he was a sack of rice. No hesitation. Just movement.

When the P.A. came on with Han-san’s panicked voice, trying to warn the students—before getting cut off by the gut-churning sound of both his and the Principal's screams—it was like the last thread holding our world together had snapped. I still remember the sound of my students cries. The raw, unfiltered terror. The wails. The chaos. Then silence, as we barricaded ourselves in an empty classroom.

I hated how I had done nothing. My legs refused to move. My body betrayed me. I wanted to save them, to help them, but all I could do was hide and tremble like a coward. And by the time it was over... they were probably already dead.

The silence that followed was worse than the screaming.

Rebecca broke that silence, standing like a sentinel near the door, weapon in hand. "It’s time to go." she said, as if this were a casual morning stroll.

I tried to stop her. Pleaded with her, even. Surely someone would come. Rescue us. Authorities, the military, someone. But she didn’t laugh, didn’t call me naïve. She just looked at me and said, "The city’s far. Even if they want to help, they might not be able to."

Not wouldn't. Couldn't. Her words sank like stones in my gut.

"We’ll die if we wait." she added. No drama. No flair. Just facts. The kind that tasted like rusted nails.

Terrifying as it was, she wasn’t wrong. And so, I followed her. Step after trembling step.

We crept through the blood-slick corridors toward the faculty room, where I had left the keys to my car to. If we could reach it, we might make it out. Might.

Rebecca, thankfully, had figured out that the zombies only reacted to sound when idle. That little nugget of knowledge probably saved our asses a dozen times over as we crept past them. Or rather, she killed them. Quietly, quickly. Mop-turned-spear stabbing into skulls like she’d been born to do it.

"Are we getting close?" she asked me, her voice just above a whisper.

I shook my head. "It’s in the opposite wing, so we’ll have to—"

I froze. My tongue tangled itself into a knot.

"What a—"

"KKKKYYYAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

A scream tore through the air like a gunshot. Somewhere in the building, someone was still alive. Or had been. The sound electrified the zombies around us. They twitched, groaned, and began shambling toward the source, before noticing us.

"Tch." Rebecca clicked her tongue. "Kyoko, watch our backs. Keep yourself safe. I’ll get us out of here."

There it was again. That strange, quiet confidence. It didn’t feel like bravado or empty promises. It was like she knew.

She moved before I could say anything. Fast. Brutal. Efficient. Mop raised, she stabbed through one zombie’s skull, then spun and drove it into the eye socket of another. Blood sprayed. Moans turned into silence. Then another. And another. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter. A force of nature trapped in a tiny, tattooed package.

But then I saw it.

Behind her, a door creaked open. Something stumbled out, groaning. Another zombie. Rebecca didn’t notice. She was too focused.

My heart stopped. My body screamed at me to move. To act. I lunged forward.

"Die!" I screamed, jabbing my mop toward the zombie. I missed.

It groaned. Sloppy, almost confused.

I pulled back, jabbed again. This time I hit. Then again. And again. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

"Die, die, die, die—"

"Woah, Kyoko! Girl, chill! It’s dead-dead!"

Her voice cut through the haze. I stopped. Looked at what I’d done.

The zombie lay in a twitching, ruined mess, holes poked through its skull and chest. My hands trembled. They were covered in blood. My breathing was ragged.

"Eh? Why is everything ge-getting blurry...?"

My knees buckled. The world swam. My body felt cold.

"Shit. I got you. I got you."

Warmth surrounded me. Rebecca’s arms. She held me tight, grounding me, like an anchor.

I didn’t understand it at first. Then I felt the tears on my face.

"That must’ve been traumatizing, yeah? Sorry you had to protect me and go through that."

Her voice was soft. No sarcasm. No jokes. Just gentle understanding. And before I knew it, I was grabbing onto her like a lifeline, sobbing into her shoulder.

I cried for my students. For the world. For myself. For how fucked up everything had become.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

After calming Kyoko down—her ragged breathing still louder than I would've liked—we pressed on, heading toward the faculty room. I was honestly still rattled after that last encounter. Being surrounded by a cluster of zombies was far from pleasant, even if I’d managed to handle it without us dying. Maybe it was because I’ve gotten a bit better at wielding my makeshift spear. Practice makes perfect, or at least, passable. My strikes were cleaner, and the hesitation that used to hold me back was no longer there. Each kill came with less guilt, more precision. Still, my trusty spear was practically begging for retirement now, splintered at the shaft and barely holding together with tape and determination. I’d need a new weapon soon, preferably one that wouldn’t snap the moment I needed it most.

"We're... here..." Kyoko murmured, trailing off as her eyes landed on the gruesome scene before us. Bodies—recently dead, judging by the freshness of the gore—littered the hallway outside the faculty room. The stench was a mixture of blood, rot, and something chemical I couldn’t quite place. I winced.

I didn’t know every detail about [Highschool of the Dead], but even with my surface-level familiarity, I could tell that this was their handiwork. It reeked of main character energy—the kind that cuts through a horde like butter and leaves a path of corpses in their wake. Judging by how empty the faculty room appeared now, we’d just missed them. Probably by minutes. Maybe even seconds.

"C'mon, Kyoko-san. Let’s grab your keys and get the hell out of here." I urged, trying to keep my tone gentle, though urgency was clawing at the back of my throat. I needed to catch up with the main cast—not just out of curiosity, but necessity. Other than my [Missions], which seemed to stretch into eternity with their objectives, they were my main source of [Credits]. And I needed [Credits] like a junkie needed a hit.

Kyoko nodded and stepped into the room while I held our ground at the door, scanning the hallway for movement. Zombies still shuffled in the distance, drawn to the echoes of past violence. As she disappeared inside, I kept killing anything that got too close, one eye always on the corridor and the other on the woman I’d somehow ended up protecting.

When she finally emerged, her arms were full—bags, cans, packets. “Why’d you take so long?” The words hovered on my tongue, but I bit them back. No use antagonizing someone clearly trying their best.

"The faculty room was already looted," she explained breathlessly, "but I managed to find some of the food I kept stashed for emergencies."

I peeked into one of the bags and, sure enough, it was all food—non-perishables and a few protein bars. My stomach growled in response. Shit, I hadn’t eaten a single thing since I dropped into this fucked-up world. No wonder I was cranky.

"Good," I nodded. "But we can’t waste time. I don’t want us driving out in the dark."

Beyond that, we still had to catch up with the main cast. I needed to find them—especially since I had that one [Mission] burning a hole in my list: creating a gated community, one free of zombies and full of order. Sounds simple enough, but then came the kicker—the [Optional Objectives] included eliminating anyone with a known penchant for leadership. That meant Shido had to go.

Honestly, I picked that [Mission] thinking this was all just a messed-up fever dream. Killing someone like Shido didn’t bother me as much as it probably should have. Maybe it was because of [Possessing] Rebecca’s body, but the system insisted that only the physical vessel transferred—not memories, not emotions. So then why did I feel this comfortable with the idea of murdering a human being?

I shook my head, forcing those thoughts to the back of my mind. We had to get to the parking lot. Now.

"Stay close, Kyoko-san." I told her. She gave me a tight nod, her face pale but determined.

With her guidance, we navigated through the school corridors. Zombies lurked here and there, but they were mostly idle—slow, blind, and dependent on sound. Thank fuck for that. I moved quickly and silently, dispatching them with surgical efficiency. Buying [Martial Talent] first was one of my better decisions. While I was still a far cry from a trained spearman, my reflexes, awareness, and technique had all improved. Against a mob of shambling undead, I could hold my own.

We were just about halfway to the parking lot when we heard it—the distinct clang of metal striking metal, loud enough to send a jolt of panic through both of us.

Kyoko and I froze, breathing shallow, bodies taut with tension. A moment passed. Then another. The zombies twitched at the noise but didn’t fully react. Not yet.

And then, someone—some idiot—shouted.

The sound echoed through the school like a gunshot, and that was all it took.

"Shit!" I hissed, already swinging my spear toward the closest zombie, whose head snapped toward us the moment it stirred.

The hallway lit up with chaos. Dozens of undead groaned and began to move. I could handle them, sure—but Kyoko? Not likely. She was still frozen, eyes wide.

"Kyoko! Do you trust me?!" I barked the words, and her gaze snapped to mine. She looked terrified but didn’t have time to respond.

Didn’t matter.

I scooped her up into a princess carry—not ideal, considering she was nearly a foot taller than me—and bolted toward the windows at the end of the hall.

"Re-Rebecca-san!? What are you doing!?"

"Be sure to tuck yourself in!" I shouted back. It wasn’t quite an answer, but it was the truth she needed to hear.

Then, I jumped.

"KYYYAAA!!!"

Her scream pierced the air, and I braced myself for the landing. My cybernetic-reinforced limbs absorbed most of the impact as we hit the ground hard and rolled. The momentum was messy, but I cradled Kyoko tightly, taking the brunt of the fall.

Pain flared through my joints, but it was manageable. Nothing felt broken. My muscles were screaming, but we were alive.

I didn’t give us time to dwell. I pushed off the ground and kept running.

"Keep tucked in, Kyoko-san!" I barked as I sprinted forward. She whimpered in response, probably bruised or worse from the fall, but we had no time to slow down. Better a few cracked ribs than being torn apart in a corridor filled with zombies.

The schoolyard was still crawling with undead, but out here, at least, there was space to maneuver. I bobbed and weaved through the crowd, slashing where I had to, dodging where I could. Every muscle in my body burned, but I kept moving.

We had to make it to her car.

The parking lot was just ahead. I could see it now through the gaps in the shambling mass—rows of vehicles, some broken into, others pristine. Kyoko had told me earlier which one was hers: a little silver hatchback, fuel-efficient and compact enough to weave through traffic, assuming we made it that far.

The only problem? There were at least two dozen zombies between us and that silver car.

And my spear? It finally snapped just as I drove it through one last skull.

"Fucking typical." I growled, dropping the useless handle. Time to improvise.

I scanned the area and spotted a discarded metal pipe near a collapsed construction barrier. Luck was finally on my side. Still holding Kyoko with one arm, I dove for the pipe and snatched it up.

It was cold and heavy, but it’d do.

"Kyoko-san," I said, breathless, "I'm going to set you down. You’ll need to move quickly. Stay behind me, no matter what. Understand?"

She nodded, trembling, but didn’t argue. I set her down gently, and she clung to my shirt for a moment before letting go.

"Don't stop unless I say so."

I turned, pipe in hand, and advanced.

Time to clear a path.

{Saeko's POV}

The zombie apocalypse. That's what people always called it in the movies. Some over-the-top, blood-splattered chaos meant for shock value and cheap thrills. I must admit, I never gave it much thought beyond that. Just another genre, just another excuse to indulge in the grotesque. But experiencing it firsthand? Oh, it was something else entirely.

It was exhilarating.

Modern society had far too many rules. Too many boundaries, too many eyes watching, judging, condemning. Always whispering that our darker urges must be hidden, caged. That the hunger for blood, the joy in the strike, the thrill of dominance and the art of pain were wrong.

But here? Here in this crumbling hell of rot and fire and screams?

Here, I was free. Here, the world bled like an open wound, and I could finally, unapologetically, revel in the taste.

I was this close to orgasming. No, truly. I could feel it pulse through my fingers with every kill. The carnage wasn’t just thrilling—it was intimate. A dance. A song. A purpose.

"Busujima-senpai! Look!"

Miyamoto-san’s voice yanked me back to the present, and I followed the direction of her outstretched finger. What greeted me was a surreal sight, even by today’s new standards.

Two women stood amidst a heap of twitching corpses. One I recognized immediately—Hayashi-sensei, our literature teacher. The other was...strange. Short. Unsettlingly pale-green skin. A face framed by green hair, put up into twin-tails, and a pair of sharp, bored eyes that didn’t seem to care about the world crumbling around her.

"Come at me, ya fuckin’ cunts!" the shorter woman roared, her metal pipe whistling through the air before it connected with a sickening crunch against a zombie’s skull.

Komuro-san and I exchanged a look. Words weren’t needed—there was an understanding. A silent affirmation. We nodded.

I moved first, weaving through the chaos with practiced ease, carving a path through the crowd of undead as I made my way toward the two women, who were slowly heading in the direction of the parking lot.

"Hayashi-sensei!" I called out, my voice sharp but clear over the din of groans and distant screams.

She turned. "Bu-Busujima-san?!"

Her eyes were wide, perhaps with disbelief. Maybe even hope. It didn’t matter.

A blur to the left caught my attention—a zombie lunging from behind a parked car. My mouth opened to shout a warning, but before the breath could even escape, the green-skinned woman was already moving. She surged forward with a snarl, grabbed the zombie by its face, and crushed its head between her hands like overripe fruit.

Even I had to pause. The strength. The sheer savagery of it was awe-inspiring.

But there was no time to marvel. I resumed moving, clearing the path between my group and theirs. Once I reached them, I spoke.

"Are you planning to escape using the bus as well, Hayashi-sensei?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer. The second bus's key hadn’t been in the faculty room. Which meant—

"N-no, Busujima-san. We were going to escape using my car."

Ah. That made more sense.

Behind me, I could feel my group getting closer. We didn’t have time to waste.

"That’s good," I said, eyes flicking to the strange woman by Hayashi-sensei’s side. "But don’t you think it would be better to join us?"

I gestured behind me, where the others were almost upon us.

Hayashi-sensei hesitated. She looked to the green-skinned woman. Clearly, she wasn’t the one making decisions.

"Well," the smaller woman said, a shrug in her voice. "They say there’s safety in numbers. Why not, Kyoko-san. Sure, we’ll tag along."

It was clear, then—she was the one in control. I nodded.

"Then let’s not waste time."

Without another word, I dashed forward, dispatching another zombie with my wooden sword. A satisfying crack echoed as its head snapped sideways. I turned to see the two following. The stranger kept our rear secure, pipe singing its song of violence while Hayashi-sensei stayed shielded between us.

We reached the bus first. Fortunately, Marikawa-sensei had entrusted me with the keys earlier. I unlocked the door and motioned for Hayashi-sensei to climb aboard. She did so, clutching the keys to her chest.

I expected her companion to follow.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she remained beside me, pipe raised, taking up position against the next wave of approaching undead.

The bus engine roared to life. Hayashi-sensei, in her shock and haste, unknowingly took up Marikawa-sensei’s role as our driver. I felt the vibrations under my feet.

Then, the rest of our group arrived.

"Get in!" Komuro-san barked, taking position in the middle of the group as the others filed into the bus.

I couldn't help but notice...none of the people we had saved earlier made it. They were gone. Just like that.

Once everyone else was inside, the three of us—Komuro-san, the strange woman, and I—shared a brief look. An agreement. I boarded first, Komuro-san followed.

Then—

"Oiii! Wait for us!"

A shout.

We turned.

Five people were approaching. One of them—

Fucking Koichi Shido.

"That’s Shido-san and the track team!" Marikawa-sensei exclaimed.

I didn't take my eyes off him. Not for a moment. That man was poison dressed in civility.

"Takeshi! Don’t! Don’t let them in!"

Miyamoto-san’s voice was sharp. Angry. Desperate. The hatred she had for that man was raw, and I could almost taste it in the air.

"The hell are you talking about, Rei!? Shit!" Komuro-san shouted, slamming his fist against the railing as the argument escalated.

I shifted slightly, my gaze flicking to the green-skinned woman outside. She hadn’t joined the discussion. She didn’t seem to care. Her pipe was still moving, still killing, still dancing.

She seemed content.

Unbothered.

A woman entered through the bus door, but then—

SLAM!

It shut.

"Shit!"

Komuro-san cursed, trying to reopen it. Hirano-san rushed to help, their hands fumbling at controls.

Outside, Shido’s group, except for the girls that had managed to get in, had halted.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing, ya fuckin’ pipsqueak!?" a blond student with him yelled.

The shorter woman didn’t flinch.

"So you'd have preferred being bitten by that?" she asked, pointing to something we couldn’t see from inside.

Her voice was dry. Disinterested.

"Damn it! We can’t open the door!" Komuro-san shouted.

"Try the passenger seat!" Marikawa-sensei suggested.

But I glanced to the side. A horde. A sea of them. More than before.

"No point." I said quietly.

"Oy! Kyoko-san! Throw me your keys! We’ll try to meet you outside!" the short woman commanded, her voice cutting through the panic.

Hayashi-sensei looked hesitant.

"Now."

A bark.

Hayashi-sensei fumbled, then tossed the keys out.

"Good. I have it! Now go!"

Still, Hayashi-sensei lingered.

"Go!"

Finally, she obeyed.

The bus lurched forward. There were sickening bumps as we rolled over corpses.

We escaped the school.

I turned to look back.

The group behind us faded into the distance, becoming small silhouettes amidst a growing tide of the dead.

But for some reason—some inexplicable instinct—I knew the short woman would survive.

She wanted to survive.

Koichi Shido, on the other hand? Let the bastard rot. Let his loyal little lambs cry and scream for their precious teacher.

The world was ending.

And I, Busujima Saeko, had never felt more alive.

The strange woman had been a whirlwind of violence. She made no effort to hide what she was, what she enjoyed. There was no deception in her—only raw, unfiltered expression. And I found myself both wary and drawn to her. She was something new.

Something I could understand.

{Rebecca's POV}

I was grinning. That had gone a hell of a lot smoother than I thought it would. The situation played right into my hands, like fate had nudged the pieces just a little. Lucky me. We’d crossed paths with the main cast, which was something I’d only hoped for at best, and yet here we were. Better yet, I managed to make a decent impression on them. Hopefully. I didn’t go out of my way to kiss ass, but I made sure to come off as useful. Capable. Just helpful enough to be remembered, just quiet enough to avoid suspicion.

Kyoko being there was the cherry on top. She’d always looked at me a little too long, eyes wide with something between awe and curiosity. Hero worship? Maybe. I hadn’t done much to earn it yet, but I could tell the gears in her head were spinning, placing me into whatever role she needed to cope. If she brought me up to the rest of the main group, they might actually wait around, or at least hesitate to move on without me. That was the hope.

Then there was Shido’s group. Those bastards showed up right on cue. Predictable. I’d been waiting for that moment, and it didn’t disappoint. As they tried to get on the bus, I made my move. The grin on my face widened as I saw the opportunity unfold. After the only woman of the group made it past and entered the bus, one of the zombies had lunged at a man just about to board, and I seized it. I grabbed the undead fucker by its bloody collar, gave it a yank, and hurled it further inside the bus—right between the doors. Then, for good measure, I slammed the door shut, its head popping like an overripe melon.

I made it look like I had no other choice. Gotta protect the guy, right? Wouldn’t want him to get bitten. That was the image I sold. What I actually did was far more deliberate—I kicked the hinge hard during the chaos, denting the metal and jamming the door in place. Only the women had gotten through. The rest, the so-called men of Shido’s crew, were cut off.

And now, there we were—me, the men, and Shido himself.

"Is that Hayashi-san’s car?!" Shido barked, his voice more shrill than commanding. He pointed at the plain Toyota like it was a goddamn lifeboat.

"It is." I replied casually, booting a zombie square in the face. The thing crumpled to the ground, its jaw dislocated and twitching.

"Then give me the key and protect our backs while we get in!" he demanded, all bravado and fake leadership. He was trying to act composed, like he had authority, like he hadn’t just let most of his own people die to keep himself safe. Too bad for him—I already knew who he really was. A parasite wrapped in a clean uniform.

I tilted my head slightly and grinned, finally free of needing to play the good girl around him. No main cast. No Kyoko. Just me and a group of worthless wastes of skin.

Instead of finishing off the zombie in front of me, I grabbed it by the shredded remains of its uniform. Its arms flailed, nails scraping the air uselessly. Then, with a little spin, I hurled it at Shido’s blonde follower. It collided with a wet thud, both bodies tumbling to the pavement.

"GAH! THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" the delinquent shrieked, trying to push the corpse off. I didn’t answer him. I didn’t need to. I just kept grinning.

One of the others turned to flee, panic written all over his face. I stuck a leg out and tripped him easily. He hit the ground hard, and before he could scramble to his feet, the swarm caught up. Blood sprayed as they tore into him. His screams didn’t even last long.

"Yo-you’re crazy!" the last one stammered, wide-eyed. But I didn’t even have to move this time. The zombies already had him. They crashed into him from behind, dragging him down, ripping flesh from bone.

Now it was just Shido. The man had the audacity to smile.

"Aha! To thi—"

I cut him off with a swing of my pipe, metal meeting jaw with a sharp crack. His head snapped sideways, and he stumbled back, dazed. Like hell was I going to let that slimy bastard monolog and rationalize all this shit.

"Whu-whi-wh—"

He looked utterly dumbfounded, but that dread, that creeping realization, began to seep in. It settled behind his eyes like a storm cloud. I just smiled wider. No reason to waste more breath on him.

I turned, unlocked Kyoko’s car, and slid into the seat like. Most of the nearby zombies had already moved toward the sounds of screaming, tearing, and chewing. Shido’s group made for excellent bait.

Closing the door with a satisfying thunk, I started the engine and looked back one last time. Shido was still standing there, blood dripping from his mouth, holding his jaw like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That this was real. That someone like me would dare turn on him.

I didn’t wave. I didn’t sneer. I just drove off.

Funny thing was—I didn’t feel guilty. Not really. Not even a flicker of remorse. I thought I would. I thought there’d be some hesitation, some moment of "what the hell did I just do?" But no. Nothing.

I wasn’t the real Rebecca. I didn’t have her bloodlust, her trauma, her wiring. And yet...

I also wasn’t entirely not her. I didn’t have anything in my [Build] that made killing easy, that would make this kind of violence second nature. I hadn’t picked [Stress Defense], hadn’t selected any traits that numbed conscience or dulled empathy. This was all me. Plain old me, throwing people to the dead without blinking. No outside influence, no corruption.

I think... I think I understood then that my friends weren’t the only ones who needed therapy.

The road was quiet, eerily so. Only the soft hum of the car and the distant echoes of screams followed me now. My fingers tapped the steering wheel as I navigated through the street, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every now and then. No sign of pursuit. No sign of remorse either.

I knew what the others might think if they saw what I did. Monster. Murderer. Maybe even worse. But the truth—if they ever asked—was simpler.

"They're crazy. Better nip it in the bud before it turns into a problem for us."

It wasn’t a lie. Not technically.

None of them would have hesitated to leave someone behind. Shido least of all. That man had no loyalty, no conviction, no sense of anything beyond his own petty ambitions. He was a snake. And snakes? You stomp them out before they bite.

It was almost funny how easy it was to manipulate the scene. How just the right words and just the right gestures painted me as the reluctant savior. People see what they want to see. Kyoko certainly did. Her wide-eyed admiration was something I hadn’t expected to enjoy, but I did. It was comforting, in a way, even if I knew it was built on assumptions.

The best part? I didn’t even have to lie. Fae rules are funny like that. You start learning how to twist words, to balance on the edge of truth and implication. Let them draw their own conclusions. You don’t guide them—you just make sure the road has no exits. It was good I bought [Communication Talent] while still in the presence of Morgana. Taught me a lot in our short interaction.

When I finally pulled over in a safer area, I took a moment to breathe. Not out of exhaustion, but out of habit. My heart wasn’t racing. My hands weren’t trembling. If anything, I felt more alert than ever. Clearer.

I opened the glove box and found a half-empty pack of mints. I popped one into my mouth, savoring the sharp, cold sting of peppermint.

"Alright," I murmured to myself, staring at the road ahead. "Let’s see how long I can keep this act going."

Because deep down, I knew it wasn’t really an act anymore.

It was just who I was becoming.

Chapter Text

{Kyoko's POV}

We had an argument. No surprise there. Tensions were already running high, and it didn’t take much for them to boil over. Miyamoto-san was adamant about leaving Koichi-san behind. Couldn’t blame her, really. Creepy bastard always had a look in his eyes like he was undressing people with them—students, no less. Still, it was hard to ignore that Rebecca was with him, and that changed the whole dynamic.

Voices rose fast. I might’ve shouted first, I can’t even remember anymore. I threatened to turn the whole damn bus around. A few others backed me up, mostly out of principle rather than any real desire to play rescue squad. Eventually, though, we reached a compromise. Not exactly diplomatic, but close enough. We'd wait for them at a nearby convenience store we passed about ten minutes ago. A half-broken sign still flickered with life as we pulled up.

It wasn’t exactly unoccupied. Two zombies were already inside, staggering around like they owned the place. Busujima-san didn’t hesitate. Before anyone could react, she was already out the door, wooden sword in hand. Two swift, almost elegant movements later, and the walking corpses were down for good. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned at how easily she did it.

With the immediate threat gone, the students piled out. Hunger had set in, nerves too. They started gathering supplies—food, hygiene products, drinks, batteries—anything that looked remotely useful. There was this eerie sense of normalcy in it, like a post-apocalyptic field trip. No one said it out loud, but we were all aware of how desperate things were getting.

Busujima-san remained outside, standing just beside the driver’s seat door, scanning the road like a sentinel. She barely flinched when she spoke. "Tell me, Hayashi-sensei. Just who was that woman who was with you?"

Her voice was quiet, but not soft. She didn’t ask out of idle curiosity. She wanted to know what kind of wildcard we’d let into our group.

"I-I don’t even know myself," I replied honestly, rubbing the back of my neck. The truth sat awkward in my throat. "She just… appeared. Out of nowhere. But she saved me. More than once, actually. Kept me alive until I found the rest of you. I owe her a lot, so I really hope she made it out of there."

It was difficult to explain the strange, blue-green-skinned woman with twin ponytails and pink tattoos. She didn’t speak much, except for shouting out insults, and when she did, her words carried weight, like every syllable had been measured carefully before being spoken. Like someone who didn’t know how to lie but knew how to obscure the truth so well that you couldn’t see through the cracks.

Still, I had this unshakable confidence that she was going to make it. Rebecca-san had that air about her, the kind that made you believe she could walk through fire and come out laughing. If anyone could survive a swarm of the dead, it was her.

As for Koichi-san... well, I hoped she wouldn’t let him drag her down. Honestly, I hoped she’d come back alone. The man was a piece of shit. Always had been. And judging by how firm Miyamoto-san was about leaving Rebecca just because Koichi was with her, I got the sense we’d only scratched the surface of his depravity.

"I don’t want to keep saying this, Hayashi-sensei," Takagi-san said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked composed, like she always did, but her eyes betrayed her. They darted back and forth between the entrance and the horizon, and her fingers tapped nervously against her elbow. "But it’s impossible for them to escape from all those zombies. Even with... her."

She didn’t want to say Rebecca’s name, I could tell. Probably afraid that saying it would make it real, that our last real hope had vanished into a sea of rot and death. Poor girl. She was trying so hard to keep herself together for everyone’s sake.

Then came a voice from outside.

"Hey! Guys! I think I see something!" Komuro-san’s voice cut through the unease like a hot blade.

I jumped from the driver’s seat and practically sprinted to the back of the bus, heart pounding in my throat. I leaned against the window, peering out. My eyes locked onto a short, familiar figure in the driver’s seat of my car.

Green pigtails. Pink markings that shimmered faintly under the setting sun. That smug, shit-eating grin like she knew something we didn’t.

Rebecca.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, relief flooding through me. I waved, and she returned it with an exaggerated motion that felt half like a greeting, half like a challenge. I could practically hear her saying, "Told you I’d make it."

The bus door opened and she strolled up, hopping on like it was just another day in the wasteland. Blood smeared across her jacket, a few fresh cuts here and there, but nothing serious. She was calm. Too calm.

The atmosphere shifted the moment she entered. Some of the girls who had followed Shido—the ones who still clung to whatever fantasy he sold them—stepped up immediately.

"Where’s Koichi-sensei?! Where is he!??!"

Rebecca just tilted her head, her voice smooth and airy, each word laced with something just beyond comprehension. "He chose a stupid path, and those who walk blindfolded into fire shouldn’t be surprised when they burn."

That shut them up for a moment, but they pressed again, more aggressively this time.

"What do you mean?! You were with him! You should’ve—!"

"He made a stupid decision," she replied, cryptically. "more than one, and he answered for it."

Her expression never changed. Serene, detached. It was like watching someone pull a curtain over the truth just enough so no one could reach behind it. The girls fell silent after that. Something in her tone made it clear she wasn’t going to entertain further questioning.

They tried to ask again later that night, more gently. But by then, Rebecca had already crawled into one of the makeshift bunks and waved them off with a tired, "Stop asking me about him. I tried protecting him and the rest, but the dumbass was too stupid."

By dawn, no one brought it up again.

Later, when we were gearing up to head into the city—our supplies getting thinner by the day, our tempers barely held in check—Rebecca surprised us again. Instead of taking my car like before, she boarded the bus with us, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re not taking the car?" I asked, raising a brow.

She shrugged. "It would be better if I stay here with you guys here."

As we drove deeper into the city, no one dared question her again about what had happened with Shido or his group. The silence spoke volumes. Maybe they were afraid. Maybe they just didn’t want to hear the truth spoken in that strange, Fae-touched cadence of hers.

Or maybe, just maybe, they realized she had answered them. They just weren’t ready to understand what she meant.

But me? I was glad she was back. Even if I didn’t understand her, even if she creeped me the hell out sometimes... she had my back. And in a world like this, that was enough.

At least, for now.

{Rebecca's POV}

Stretching my back with a quiet grunt, I stared blankly out the bus window, the glass fogging just slightly from my breath. I was seriously getting tired of this shit. The traffic hadn’t moved in hours. A literal standstill, as if the world itself had hit pause. And yeah, sure, it was the start of a goddamn zombie apocalypse, so I could understand why nothing was moving. But understanding didn’t make it any less frustrating. The air inside the bus had gone stale, the seats were stiff as hell, and the space was tight—especially with this many bodies inside. Buses weren’t designed for full-day marathons of surviving the undead.

Physically? I could deal. I’d been through worse. But mentally? That was a different beast entirely. Things had settled down, relatively speaking. No more screaming, no one banging at the windows, and the distant moans had become background noise like a cursed lullaby. With the chaos briefly calmed, people began to shift their focus. Naturally, their attention turned to the most obvious anomaly in the room: me.

"Why is your skin that color?" one of them asked, eyes wide with unease.

"Tattoos." I replied, my voice flat but steady. My tone was dry enough to suggest they should stop asking, but not sharp enough to start a fight.

"And your eyes? They're not normal."

"Had a procedure done. Cost a lot. Worth it."

"What about the metal on your arms?"

"I'm into transhumanism. Some people decorate with piercings. I like chrome."

They asked, and I answered. I didn’t lie—couldn’t, really—but I knew how to twist a truth into something more palatable. A skill honed over little conversations, sharpened further by [Communication Talent], which seemed to level up faster than I expected. Each word carefully placed, each phrase deliberate. A dance of half-truths and implications. No outright lies, just a beautiful mess of almost-truths and technically-corrects.

Then came the inevitable questions about Shido. His only female crony—the one I allowed on the bus before I cut off the rest of his little cult—was especially persistent. She pressed and prodded, practically vibrating with the need to know what really happened. I gave her vague answers, letting silence do half the talking. Told her Shido did something monumentally stupid—which wasn’t even a lie if you’d seen the anime. The bastard was going to screw us all over eventually. I just accelerated the process.

It was still a bit of a pain having to be so mindful with everything I said. The urge to toss out a little white lie to shut people up was strong, but my body just wouldn’t let the words form. Still, I was getting better at navigating it. A puzzle of phrasing and timing. Annoying? Definitely. But what could I do? At least my [Patron] saw fit to double my [Mission Rewards]. Fair trade.

As the attention lingered on me, the questions shifted. Personal ones. Not just "what" I was but "who."

I told them the truth—or parts of it, anyway. Said I was 21, American, that I’d been through some shit. Mixed in facts from both my old life and Rebecca’s. Since we were basically one person now, it wasn’t too hard to meld the memories. I had the experience, the mindset, and the history to make it all seem seamless.

And while they got curious, I got nosy. I didn’t just answer—I asked. Not just out of politeness, but strategy. Every little detail they gave me could be used later, filed away and pieced together for future [Capturing]. Observation was half the job.

Rei was a little brat, plain and simple, but had a good heart under the snark. She didn’t trust me at first—and I couldn’t blame her. A short girl with green skin and metal-lined limbs shows up mid-apocalypse? I'd be suspicious too. But thanks to [Communication Talent], I knew when to push, when to hold back. I could read the rhythm of conversation like sheet music now. She warmed up, eventually. Still guarded, but the ice had cracks.

Saeko, on the other hand, was the quiet, serious type. She didn't say much, but her eyes said plenty. I knew her well enough from the anime to navigate her walls. During one of our talks, I gently steered the conversation toward the dangers of hesitation in combat. Told her how being too restrained against zombies could get you killed. That cracked her open a bit. We ended up talking about fighting styles, brutality, even sharing tips on efficient killing. Morbid? Yeah. But it worked.

Saya was the loudest in the room. A certified genius—just ask her, she’d tell you. Constantly correcting people, constantly talking about her intelligence like it was a shield. Honestly? Kinda adorable. She didn’t appreciate my mouth—said I was too crude—but once I found topics that piqued her interest, she stopped focusing on how I said things and started paying attention to what I was saying. She’d never admit it, but she liked me. At least a little.

Takashi, the protagonist of the show, was...awkward. The kind of awkward that sets in when your entire purpose—saving your friends—was already fulfilled. Now that the immediate danger was over, he was just a guy stuck in limbo. I talked to him a few times, tried to get a read. He seemed decent, but I was torn. One of my [Missions] had an [Optional Objective]: eliminate known leaders. He was part of the criteria. But killing him felt wrong. Not because I couldn’t do it—I’d proven with Shido that I could—but because Takashi hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet. He wasn’t evil, just lost. And that alone made things complicated.

Khota was easier to talk to. Mention guns or the military and he wouldn’t shut up. A walking encyclopedia of ballistics and tactics. I didn’t mind. His chatter helped pass the time, and the knowledge he spilled might come in handy.

Shizuka was... well, she was Shizuka. Airheaded, carefree, a little slow—but not entirely stupid. She surprised me sometimes with how grounded she could be. A bit ditzy, sure, but sweet. She didn’t have a problem with me. Called me cute once. I didn’t correct her.

Kyoko was interesting. Freed from the chaos of the zombie-infested school, she came into her own. At first, I thought she was some uptight bitch, but turns out she was just overwhelmed. With some downtime, I actually got to see her. She was real. Flawed, tired, scared—but still willing to help. She had a bit of hero-worship toward me. The kind that could be dangerous if left unchecked... but also very useful.

Then there were the three others. Not part of the main cast, but now part of our survival unit by proximity. I made an effort to get to know them too. Couldn’t afford unknown variables.

Kawamoto Momo had short brown hair and a tomboyish streak. Bold, loud, a bit impulsive. Her friend, Tanuichi Fumiko, was the opposite. Quiet, shy, constantly clinging to Momo like a shadow. Watching them interact, it was pretty obvious they were into each other—even if they hadn’t admitted it yet. There was an intimacy in their glances, in the way they gravitated toward each other. It was kinda cute.

Then there was Miku Yuki. She was a whole different flavor of hell. From the way she looked to the way she talked, everything about her screamed bitch. And slut. If the anime was anything to go by, she didn’t have much depth. And she hated me. Blamed me for not coming back with Shido, for not saving him. She made that clear with every sneer and jab.

But I didn’t back down. I made an effort to talk to her, to understand her type—the hostile, petty kind. The type that could rally others against you if left unchecked. Thanks to [Communication Talent], I managed to get her to stop calling me a brat every other sentence. That was progress. She didn’t like me, but she didn’t outright want to kill me anymore. I could work with that.

By the time I had everyone’s profile more or less figured out, the air shifted. The calm we’d been resting in—the brief lull—cracked. I noticed it before anyone else. Smoke. Rising in the distance, dark and thick, climbing into the sky like a funeral pyre. It was coming from the direction of the city center, near the bridge.

Shit was about to go down again.

"What are we going to do now?" Takeshi was the first to speak, his voice laced with tension as he stared at the thick column of smoke curling up from the bridge ahead. It had once been our safest path into the city, a slim chance of salvation. Now, it looked more like a death trap. We were stuck—kilometers out, deadlocked in unmoving traffic, and surrounded by a growing sense of dread.

I narrowed my eyes and activated the zoom function, my augmented vision sharpening to give me a clearer view despite the distance. Not perfect, but enough. The scene on the bridge was chaos incarnate—crowds had formed near the barricade, and people were hurling what looked like molotov cocktails. The glass burst on impact, erupting in flames that painted the barricade in violent orange.

"Tch. People are stirring shit up at the bridge," I muttered, leaning back against the bus seat, arms crossed as I processed the situation. "Even if we try to wait it out, we’d be stuck here for days. Maybe more."

"Huh!? How the hell could you even see that far?! And what do you even mean by that!?" Fumiko snapped, straining to catch a glimpse of the bridge chaos herself.

"My eyes have been through a procedure, like I said. Let's just say they work a little better than most. Over 20/20 vision now." I explained plainly, no room for argument in my tone. Truth, after all, comes easy to me. "The bridge is done. People are getting desperate. That kind of desperation spreads, you know? Eventually, they'll abandon their cars and try running on foot. Then their abandoned vehicles will block everything, and the real fun starts."

"What kind of fun do you mean exactly?" Kohta asked, already clutching his modified rifle a little tighter.

"The kind with zombies, obviously," I said dryly. "If we stay put, we’ll be boxed in by both people and the dead."

Saya, sharp as always, caught on quickly. "As strange as your eyes are aside, Rebecca-san is right. Once people start panicking, they’ll abandon their cars. They’ll try to run to the city on foot, thinking it’s their only chance. That’ll leave the road impassable.."

I glanced at her and gave a smirk. Her cheeks flushed, just slightly.

"Add in the fact that once the zombies catch wind of a large crowd, it’ll be like ringing a dinner bell. It’ll be a damn buffet." My words earned a round of murmurs from the others, the air inside the bus turning heavier by the second.

Saya’s eyes widened as a sudden realization hit her. "Oh... oh no... That—gah! Why didn’t I think of this earlier!"

She stomped her foot, her frustration making the floor of the bus shake slightly.

"What are you talking about, Takagi-san?" Kohta asked, brows furrowed.

"Think about it! We’ve barely seen any zombies along the road so far—it’s too quiet, which is suspicious. That’s not natural. When panic really starts setting in, the crowd will scream, fight, cry... honk. Then the infected will come flooding in like a goddamn tide! We’ll be buried in them!"

Dread seeped into everyone’s expressions, each of them processing the same terrible realization. I’d been thinking it for a while now. Like Saya said, the lack of zombies was suspicious. Too quiet, too still. Just waiting for a spark to ignite it all.

"Do-do-does that mean that..." Fumiko whimpered, clutching Momo’s arm tightly. Her eyes darted to the cars surrounding us, the ones filled with people equally frozen in place. It was easy to imagine the scene that would unfold—honking, yelling, banging on doors as people tried to force their way forward.

"Yeah. That’s exactly what it means," I said. Then I raised my hand, as if we were in some kind of classroom. "I vote that we ditch this death trap and find somewhere to hole up for the night. We need proper rest. A place to think."

They all went quiet, eyes drifting toward Takeshi—he’d sort of become the leader without realizing it. Just someone people naturally looked to in moments like this. He hesitated, gaze flickering between each face before finally speaking.

"Rebecca-san is... right. If what she and Saya-san are saying is true, then we’re better off regrouping somewhere else before sundown."

A round of nods followed his statement, solemn agreement settling over the group like a thick fog. Even Yuki didn’t protest.

"The question is where," I said, tapping my chin. "I could break into a house if it’s just shelter we need. Wouldn’t be my first time."

My gaze slid to Shizuka, who was staring off into space, her lips pursed in thought. Then suddenly, she perked up and slammed her fist into her open palm with a little "Ah!"

"I know! Let’s go to my friend’s house! It’s not far from here!"

Her suggestion sparked a ripple of hope through the group. A plan, finally.

It still took time to get the bus moving. Traffic had barely budged since the smoke first appeared, and things were getting louder—yelling, door slamming, the occasional honk of a frustrated horn. Not full panic yet, but close.

I took it upon myself to get us out of the jam. Hopped off the bus and started talking to people on the outskirts of the gridlock. Most didn’t take kindly to being asked to move. One guy accused me of being a zombie, his eyes going wide when he got a good look at me—green ponytails, blue-green skin, the tattoos. Yeah, I don’t exactly scream normal.

But I didn’t flinch.

"I don’t bite, dumbass," I snapped, voice sharp as a knife. "Even if you ask really nicely. Now get your hunk of junk out of the way."

Eventually, they listened. Not because they believed me entirely, but because fear makes people malleable. And maybe because I don’t leave much room for argument. One by one, the cars edged aside, giving us just enough space to pass through.

As we drove, I kept my eyes scanning the side streets. Too many were narrow or blocked. Too many windows had lights on—signs of people still inside. Not ideal for laying low. Still, we kept moving, sticking to the plan.

We’d barely gotten a few blocks away when the first real signs of panic started to echo behind us. More horns. A scream. Then two. Then the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

"That’s our cue to keep moving," I muttered, my knuckles tightening around the edge of the seat. We were cutting it close. Real close.

The sun was already beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the ruined streets. A red-orange glow lit the world like it was on fire. Beautiful, in that horrifying way apocalypses tend to be.

"Shizuka, how much farther is your friend’s place?" Takeshi asked, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

"Just a bit more," she replied. "It’s in a cul-de-sac—quiet neighborhood. Should still be safe."

"And your friend... she’s not home, right?" Saya asked.

Shizuka hesitated, then nodded. "She's a police police officer, so she's probably helping the rest. I just hope she'll be fine. "

I looked at Shizuka for a moment, before placing a calming hand on her shoulder. "Well, let's hope that she's a good one."

A few more tense turns and we reached the neighborhood. The streets were eerily calm, lined with well-kept hedges and neatly trimmed lawns. Felt surreal, like the apocalypse had politely skipped this pocket of suburbia.

We parked the bus just far enough down the street to keep it out of immediate sight. I volunteered to check the place first. Kicked in the side door with practiced ease. No alarms. No sounds.

Empty.

"Clear!" I called out.

Everyone piled in quickly, relief washing over their faces as they took in the simple but sturdy house. Saya immediately began surveying defensible positions, while Kohta started checking the windows and loading his gear.

I claimed a seat near the window, where I could keep an eye on the street. Just in case.

For now, we were safe. But night was coming fast, and safety... well, that never lasts long in a world like this.

Still, for a brief moment, we could breathe.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}{18+}

Since I now had [20 Credits], I went ahead and bought [Alluring Whisper]. Was it a smart purchase? Probably not. I should've gone with something more pragmatic, like [Template Stacking I] or even just boosting my [Defenses]. But that wasn't the point. I didn’t buy [Alluring Whisper] because it was efficient—I bought it because I needed something that could help me sway people more easily. I've already outpaced most folks in raw power, and thanks to [Martial Talent], that gap's only going to widen. I could always grab [Template Stacking I] later. For now, what I needed was influence. Persuasion. The ability to talk someone into seeing things my way without having to beat it into them. That’s why I had my sights set on [Honest to the Bone] next. If I couldn't lie, then fine—I’d just make my honesty cut sharper than any blade.

Speaking of sharp things... or rather, soft ones—

"Fufufu~. Rei-san~, that tickles~!"

Shizuka’s voice rang out in that breathy, teasing way of hers. Girl had the biggest tits out of all of us, followed closely by yours truly, then Saya, Rei, and finally Saeko. How I ended up bustier than Rebecca’s original frame? [Body Tune-Up], most likely. Didn’t give me height, but hell, it made me a hell of a lot curvier. Top and bottom heavy, short stack—just how I liked it.

"Damn, Shizuka-sensei! Your tits really are as big as I thought they were!" Rei laughed, openly fondling Shizuka's chest without any shame.

The six of us—Shizuka, Kyoko, Rei, Sayaka, Saeko, and myself—were crammed into the bathroom of Shizuka’s friend’s house. The other three girls were outside, waiting their turn, since they were the only ones who hadn’t had to get down and dirty with the undead. Their clothes were clean, or at least cleaner than ours. As for the guys—Takeshi and Kohta—they opted to go last. Made sense. Being men and all.

And yeah, speaking of tight fits...

"Mmm~, you're not too bad yourself, Rei-chan~." My voice was teasing, sultry. I let my hands slide over Rei’s tits, and unlike with Shizuka, Rei actually moaned. [Sticky Fingers] and a lot of real-life experience with women gave me an edge. If Rei was gonna start something in a hot bath with all of us squeezed together, how could I possibly just let that pass?

"Ah! Rebecca-san! Not the nipples~!"

I grinned at her protest and let my hand drift lower, squeezing her ass. She moaned again—louder this time. I raised a brow. Weakness spotted. Mental note taken.

Of course, none of this would’ve been possible if I hadn’t worked my ass off to get them to trust me. Convincing people is one thing, but peeling away every last shred of suspicion? That takes effort. Between [Alluring Whisper] and [Communication Talent], I’d been damn near surgical in how I navigated their emotions. By the time we made it to Shizuka's friend’s place, most of their walls had already crumbled.

"Ey! Let me join in!"

Shizuka, freed from Rei’s grip, pounced on her in turn.

"Wa-wait! Shizuka-sensei—Ahhh~."

I kept my hands on Rei’s ass, letting Shizuka focus on her chest. Out of everyone here, Rei and Saya were the two I had to focus on for my [Retinue]. The issue? They still had lingering feelings for Takeshi. That needed to change. Slowly but surely, I was working on it. Moments like this? They helped.

Not that I was going to take it too far. This was playful. Flirty. Nothing more. Not here. Not now.

After one final squeeze of Rei’s ass, I slipped out of the bath. “Oh? Where are you goi—” Shizuko began, but she was immediately pounced on by Rei again, the tables turned.

I let out a soft chuckle and made my way to the shower where Saya and Saeko stood, letting the water rinse them clean. Both of them gave me a nod as I approached.

“Hey, you two alright here?” I asked casually.

They nodded again, calm and composed.

Blaming my next actions on Rei’s mischief, I reached for a wet, sudsy towel and began rubbing it against Saya’s back. She turned with a startled expression.

“Hey! What do you think—Ahh~!”

The sound that left her throat as I slipped the towel up to her breasts was positively sinful.

“Don’t worry, Saya-chan~. I’m just helping you out~.”

She knew I wasn’t. We all did. But the playful air in the bathroom gave me just enough cover.

“Re-Rebecca-san~…”

I had the urge to kiss her neck right then and there, but I held back. Instead, I focused on "cleaning" her. Breasts. Stomach. Hips. Thighs. Every time she moaned, I made a note of it.

“And~... there~. You should be good now, Saya-chan~.”

Panting, she gave me a shaky thumbs-up, cheeks red. My gaze turned to Saeko.

“How about you, Saeko-chan~? Want some help as well~?”

Saeko’s eyes twinkled, that sharp glint of mischief and challenge I’d come to recognize dancing there.

“Only if I get to return the favor, Rebecca-san.”

I chuckled. She would never back down from a challenge. And truth be told, she was the one I felt the strongest connection to. There was something raw and electric between us—mutual respect, but also mutual lust. Saeko was dangerous. A perfect mirror to my chaos.

Still grinning, I settled myself in front of her, plopping down on her thighs, straddling them, facing her. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away.

“Since I don’t want to keep the other girls waiting, let’s clean each other at the same time, yeah~?”

I started with her breasts, watching her composure crack as she gasped. She hadn’t expected the sensation to feel that good. By the time I moved to her back, she’d found her rhythm and began washing me too, hands sliding expertly over my own breasts. I winced, pleasure shooting through me, but I didn’t moan.

Then an idea bloomed in my head—wicked and irresistible. I shifted my hips forward, pressing my clit flush against her toned stomach. Her eyes widened.

I winked.

She froze. Then, slowly, she moved.

Her fingers brushed my folds, light and testing. I bit my lip, grinding against her with slow, deliberate friction. In response, I slid one hand between her legs, rubbing gentle circles around her pussy. She gasped.

It was dangerous, yes. The others were nearby, but everyone was too busy in their own games. Rei, Shizuka, and Kyoko were playfully groping each other. Saya was still flushed and shaky, likely trying to get herself off discreetly beside us.

But Saeko and I... we were past subtlety.

We kept our movements controlled, discreet, barely visible—but our eyes stayed locked. Her breath hitched. I matched it. My fingers moved faster. So did hers.

And then—

Release. Quiet. Tense. Intimate. Her orgasm triggered mine, and we both did our best to stay silent.

As the aftershocks faded, I met her gaze again. We didn’t need to speak. Something had passed between us—an understanding. This wasn’t the end. Just a beginning.

Out of everyone, Saeko was the one I wasn’t worried about [Capturing]. Her love for violence made her easy to bond with, and our dynamic? Natural. Honest. Brutal.

“AAAAHHH~~!!!”

To our right, Saya moaned loud enough to startle everyone. Guess she couldn’t keep it quiet.

When she finally calmed down and realized what she’d done, she looked to me. Her glare screamed accusation, but I just gave her a sly smile, raising the hand I’d used on Saeko in mock apology. It was still slick with the afterglow.

Saya huffed, turning away, but her ears were pink.

All in all? A very productive bath time.

After taking a long, steamy bath—one well-earned after the chaos of the past few days—we finally gave Momo, Fumiko, and Yuki the bathroom. It was a soothing, almost domestic moment of peace amidst the madness outside. As we finished drying off and began settling into something comfortable, Shizuka suddenly perked up, her eyes glittering with mischief.

"Since these would likely go to waste, I think Rika wouldn't mind us drinking them!" she chirped, practically skipping over to a locked cabinet in the corner of the room. With an audible clink, she pulled out a bottle of Smirnoff and held it aloft like a prize.

The expression on her face screamed victory.

Rei, towel still clutched tightly around her chest, tilted her head in skepticism. "Eh. Are you sure about that, Shizuka-sensei? We're literally in the middle of a zombie apocalypse."

"Mah, mah," Shizuka replied, her voice lilting, not quite slurred yet, but definitely relaxed. "It’s fine! Rika’s place is heavily fortified, remember? Besides, I have this odd feeling Rika would be laughing her ass off if she knew we were helping ourselves. And let’s be real, you kids have probably never had alcohol before. With all the stress lately, I say we deserve a little break, even if it's just for tonight."

I took that moment to step forward, an idea forming in my head as quickly as the grin on my face. This was the perfect opportunity to further deepen my connection with the group—and honestly, who could blame me for taking advantage of a chance like this?

"That's right. Since we're already stuck in a world where the dead walk and the rules don’t apply anymore, why not live a little?"

Without hesitation, I plucked a bottle of Bacardi from the shelf, the cold glass slick in my hand. I scanned the fridge, opening it to see if we had any mixers to soften the blow of that first sip. As I searched, I glanced over my shoulder at Shizuka. "Also, does your friend keep cigarettes around? Any chance she’s got a stash hidden away somewhere, Shizuka-chan?"

She tapped her chin with a perfectly manicured nail and nodded. "Oh? You want cigarettes? I’ll go look. I’m sure Rika has some stashed away in one of her rooms."

I pulled out a bottle of Coke and set it on the counter, the cap hissing as I cracked it open. The aroma of cola mixing with the sharp scent of rum was oddly comforting. I began pouring drinks with careful hands, watching the mixture swirl into each glass.

Saya stood nearby, arms crossed, her brows furrowed in that way that said she was deeply unconvinced. "I still feel like this is a dumb idea."

I offered her a warm smile, speaking with the sort of honesty only I could manage. "Like I said, live a little, Saya-chan. The stress we’re under? It’s not going to get easier. If we don’t let off steam now, it’s going to eat us alive."

She blinked, caught off guard by the tenderness in my tone, and blushed. She muttered something under her breath and gave a small nod. That was one hurdle cleared.

Not long after, Saeko entered the room, flipping through a pile of clean clothes Shizuka had laid out. She chose a thin tank top and a pair of shorts that clung to her form in all the right ways. Her calm, collected demeanor didn’t shift as she addressed me.

"Well... I've never tasted alcohol before, so this will be a first."

I nodded and smiled as I handed her a glass. "You probably won't like it right away, but tastes evolve. It's not about the flavor right now—it's about the experience."

Kyoko, ever the responsible one, chimed in as she tied her hair back into a bun. "While you’re playing bartender, I’ll prep us some breakfast for tomorrow, and maybe a few bentos for the road. If we’re leaving soon, we’ll need the energy."

I paused for a moment, letting that thought settle. She was right. My memory of [Highschool of the Dead] was foggy, scattered between chaotic fights and fanservice, but one thing was clear—this safehouse wouldn’t remain safe for long. I had a feeling that by the time night turned over, we’d be gone. Something about a kid—Alice, right? Yeah. I'd save her. No questions asked. A child shouldn’t be left behind in a hell like this.

But that was tomorrow's problem.

"I found them, Rebecca-san!" Shizuka’s cheerful voice broke my train of thought as she re-entered the room with a box in her arms. Inside were several cartons of Malboros—Red, Gold, and even Purple Fusions. She looked far too pleased with herself.

Grinning, I reached for a pack of Malboro Reds. Not because I liked them—they were the worst in my opinion—but I figured I might as well burn through the bad ones first. Save the better stuff for when it really counted.

"This is great, Shizuka-chan! Anyway, here you girls go!"

I pushed the freshly mixed drinks toward the group. Saya hesitated for a heartbeat, then lifted her glass. She examined it like it might bite her. Finally, she took a sip—and immediately grimaced.

"Ugh. You were right."

Despite her clear distaste, she didn’t put the glass down. I could’ve told her to slow it down, but I didn’t. Everyone learns best by doing. Besides, everything was going according to plan.

By the time Momo, Fumiko, and Yuki finished their baths and rejoined us, the room was already filled with warm laughter and flushed faces. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mixing with the tobacco smoke curling from my lips as I sat back in my corner, half-watching, half-calculating.

Yuki was the first of the newcomers to accept the drink I offered. She gave it a curious sniff before sipping it, her eyes lighting up in surprise. Momo and Fumiko were more reserved, but the atmosphere was infectious. One by one, they took their glasses.

I smiled again, exhaling another slow puff of smoke.

The drinks were doing their work, and everyone’s inhibitions were unraveling, thread by delicate thread. They were tipsy, their guards lowered, laughter coming easier, touch lingering longer. It was time.

I leaned into the moment, carefully threading questions through our conversation like needles through silk. Some were innocent enough—what kind of music they liked, what they'd do if the world hadn't gone to shit. Others were a bit more pointed.

"So, what's the weirdest thing you've ever fantasized about?"

"If you could switch bodies with anyone for a day, who would it be—and why?"

"Ever kissed a girl before?"

Each answer revealed more than the words themselves. I watched their eyes, their posture, the way they fidgeted or leaned in. I made small touches—fingers brushing arms, a hand on the thigh during a shared laugh. Nothing overt. Just enough.

Strangely—or perhaps not so strangely—it seemed that every one of them held at least some interest in other women. None of them seemed repulsed or even surprised by the questions. They were... curious. Open.

I didn't have [Universal Calibration I], which would’ve made everyone conveniently bi or gay for my benefit. But I didn’t need it. The world we were in—the exaggerated, oversexed universe of [Highschool of the Dead]—was already doing half the work for me.

Every attractive woman here was written to be desirable, bendable to plot, malleable to desire. I didn’t create the rules—I just played within them.

Takeshi had no idea what was coming.

Because I wasn’t going to let any of them fall for him. Not a chance in hell.

I didn’t mind if the girls liked each other—hell, it’d make things easier. But men? Not in my camp. That was the real reason I got them drunk. Not for manipulation, but for clarification. I needed to know who could be trusted, who could be molded.

And they were all opening up beautifully.

The night stretched on, the drinks flowed, the questions deepened. We shared confessions, laughed too loudly, and forgot, just for a little while, that the world outside was dying. And in that space of vulnerability and warmth, I planted my seeds.

Seeds of trust. Of curiosity. Of desire.

Opportunities were everywhere—hell, in this world gone mad, opportunity was sometimes all you had left besides your own skin and whatever you could scrounge from the ruins. So when a particularly interesting one presented itself, I wasn't about to let it pass me by.

The group had clustered together, all smiles and giggles from the alcohol. But Rei-chan had peeled herself away, like watching the party from behind glass even though she was only a few meters away. She looked so small, knees pulled to her chest, curled up in a fortress of isolation.

I sauntered over, never one for subtlety, and flopped down beside her with all the grace of someone who expects the world to rearrange itself around her weight. I made sure my presence was impossible to ignore—short, shock of neon green hair trailing wild pigtails, skin glinting blue-green under the battered lights, pink tattoos’ glow painting rebellion across my cheekbones.

“Hey, you alright, Rei-chan?” I asked, stretching the words with a lazy drawl, letting concern bleed out at the edges.

She barely glanced my way, hugging those knees tighter, chin nearly tucked to her chest so I couldn’t map her expression. “It's nothing, Rebecca-san.” she muttered, voice so flimsy I almost laughed. Almost.

I rolled my shoulders, making a theatrical show of not believing her for a damn second. “Huh. That sure doesn’t look like nothing to me, sunshine,” I mused, and without asking, wrapped my arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer into the warmth of my own chaos. Genuine enough to feel, ambiguous enough not to frighten. That was the trick.

She twitched at my touch, but didn't scrabble away, so I took it as an invitation. I let my fingers curl over her bare arm, thumb drawing idle circles—comforting, but carrying an edge. “You don’t gotta talk if you don’t want, Rei-chan,” I murmured, leaning into her, my voice almost a purr right against the shell of her ear. “But, you know, sometimes shit builds up. Holds inside and goes septic. Best to spit it out while it’s still only words.” I guided her head gently against my shoulder, feeling her stiffen and then, slowly, melt. My other hand caressed her hair—[Sticky Fingers] in play, soothing static running through her scalp with every stroke.

[Lure] is a lovely thing, not just for sating base needs but for uncoiling the knots in a person’s heart. I waited in the quiet, my touch gentle, not rushing. Patience is a virtue, but sometimes I prefer to call it foreplay.

Eventually, she sighed, the sound coming out broken around the edges. “I just…” she finally started, her voice trembling. She swallowed and forced herself on. “Everything’s gone to hell, Rebecca-san. I used to think my biggest problem was school, or getting held back another year. Now…” Her voice hitched, and I kept tracing calming circles on her arms, never let her drift too far. “Hisashi—my boyfriend—” she choked, “he got bit. Takeshi was the one who had to…who had to end it because I was… because I was too weak.”

Silence settled over us like a funeral shroud. I let her words settle, not rushing to patch them up because sometimes sadness needs room to breathe. After a beat, she spoke again, small and shamed. “I… I’m a bad girl. The only reason I even dated Hisashi was… well, it was to make Takeshi jealous. Takeshi’s just so fucking dense he never noticed how I felt. I thought if he saw me with Hisashi, maybe the idiot would wake up. But he just…didn’t. And now Hisashi’s dead, and we’re stuck in this fucking nightmare and I—” She fell silent, staring at her hands like they’d betrayed her.

I hummed, not judgmental, just thoughtful as if I’d heard far worse secrets whispered against my skin. “Hmm~. Bad? Maybe. But you’re not exactly unique, darling. Everyone’s done selfish shit, especially at your age. Love’s a wild animal, and jealousy bites. Truth is, if the zombies hadn’t crashed the party, you’d have either been exposed or stuck in a shit relationship with Hisashi, probably headed toward heartbreak or something worse.”

I slid my hand lower, off her arm, down to rest gently but possessively on her hip. My touch was comfortable but edged with unspoken promises. Words wove from me, smooth and slightly wicked in their honesty, every sentence crafted as truth, every insinuation carefully balanced: “But the world’s spun off its axis now, yeah? The past is just a pile of dead weight. What you did—why you did it—it’s all just ghosts haunting you. Your guilt, your longing for Takeshi, your grief for Hisashi? None of it changes what’s in front of us.” I let my breath tickle her ear, my hand sliding to rest on her stomach. “Only thing that matters now is your survival, Rei. The sooner you start looking out for yourself, even if it means being a little selfish, the better off you’ll be. You owe it to yourself to survive, if for no one else.”

She shivered, the contact sparking something in her she was fighting to muffle. “B-but I… I don’t want to be selfish,” she protested, clinging to old morals. “I just want… I just want to forget, even for a bit. I wish everything would just go away, Rebecca-san. This pain… I—” She faltered again, breath ragged.

My words tangled through her distress, honey-slick, never quite seducing or comforting, but doing both at once in their own strange way. “Ah, sweet thing. Contradictions taste better when you don’t spit them out. Wanting to forget, not wanting to abandon yourself—hard lines to walk, but nobody said it’d be easy.” I didn’t let her wriggle out of my embrace, circling her stomach with my fingertips, slow and deliberate. “Confusion makes you vulnerable, but vulnerability’s not always bad. Sometimes, it’s the starting point for something better.”

Rei’s confusion flickered across her face, cheeks burning as my hand remained, not venturing further—yet—but not retreating either. Air quivered between us, crackling with something hot and dangerous.

“You know, Rei-chan,” I purred, letting my lips brush close to her ear, “nobody’s asking you to decide everything tonight. Not for good.” I nipped lightly at her ear, just enough to make her gasp out a tiny moan, startled and aroused. “But if you really want a break—if you want to be good, want to forget—why not let someone else carry the weight for a bit? Why not let me decide?” Each word true, every syllable loaded, my inflection dripping promise.

My hand crept upwards, settling on her breast, my thumb circling over the fabric of her shirt, light and teasing. Her breath stuttered, and her pupils dilated in the dim light. “Ah…you…would you really do that, Rebecca-san?” she asked, voice trembling with hope and nervousness.

I smirked, the feline curl of my lips pressed against the shell of her ear as I toyed with her nipple through her clothes. “For you, Rei-chan? I absolutely would.” The words slipped out without hesitation—all truth. “It’s a big, bad world out there, and everyone’s looking for someone brave enough to take charge. Lucky you, I’m right here, and with hands like these?” My fingers pinched her nipple, coaxing a sharp sigh from her lips. “Well, I’d call it negligent not to use them to take care of you.”

An electric jolt shivered through her. “I—but—Rebecca—oh, fuck…” The protest was half-hearted at best, and she arched involuntarily toward my touch, her morals warring against her body’s honest response. I deepened the embrace, both hands playing now: one cupping her other breast, groping softly, the other tracing circles lower and lower with calculated patience.

Her nails dug into my thigh, desperation and need written in every line of her body. “See, you’re still lost, babe. You need guidance, and I’m happy to give it—if you say the word.”

She almost sobbed, need and resignation blending together. “Yes. Please… Please take care of me… Just—just this once, let me be good for you…”

I rewarded her plea with a hot, savoring kiss at her neck, my hand sliding down to squeeze her ass, drawing another lovely shudder out of her spine. “That’s it, Rei-chan. Good girl. Just let go, let me take you apart and put you back together again. Let the world melt for a while.”

Our breaths grew uneven, the edges of resolve fraying as tension snapped taut between us, a string plucked so tightly any touch could make it sing or break. Each stroke of my hands, each whispered word, held truth and seduction intertwined.

She clung to me, grounding herself in my touch as surely as if I were the only anchor left in the end-of-days. “You—are you really… you promise I don’t have to think about any of that anymore?”

I met her gaze head-on, eyes shining with wild honesty. “You won’t have to think about a damn thing, babe, not as long as you’re in my hands. I’ll make sure you feel only what you want to feel.” My words, impossible to mistrust, were smooth as silk and sharp as glass. “Closure’s a fantasy, anyway. Distraction—now that’s real. And I’m a master of distractions, Rei-chan.”

She let herself relax into my arms at last, letting the tension ebb away as I kept up my gentle ministrations, leading her further and further away from the weight of her regrets. I let the minutes move lazily, drawing out the pleasure of comfort, of connection, of being seen and cared for, even if just for one night in a world gone utterly mad.

In the sanctuary we’d carved for ourselves, small and fragile and precious, there were no broken hearts, no dead boyfriends, no shattering loss—just warmth, arms, and whispered words that could never be lies, however dangerous.

And for that night—just that night—we both let the world burn outside. Inside, under the glow of battered lights and the greater glow of want and need, we found a kind of rescue. If only for a little while.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

I didn’t go far with Rei—only whispered sweet nothings into her ear, let my hands wander just enough to stir her up, fingers tracing curves with just enough pressure to remind her I was there. I didn’t need to push further. I’d already done it—shifted the axis of her world just slightly, tilted it away from Takeshi. Whether or not it would last, I couldn’t say. But even if it didn’t completely stick, the seed had been planted. Roots grow in silence, and I’ve always known how to nurture desire in the dark.

I made my way to the second floor, heading toward the master bedroom. Takeshi and Kohta were out on the veranda, keeping watch. The air was heavy with the smell of ash and blood—death always clung, even when it wasn’t visible. They looked serious, both hunched over the railing, eyes locked on the world outside like it owed them an answer.

“Hey,” I called out, stepping into view, hips swaying lazily, “how’s it looking out there?”

Takeshi turned first, eyes flicking over me—my outfit wasn’t exactly tactical: sports bra and booty shorts, tight enough to make Kohta flush when he saw me. The boy’s blush was instant, like clockwork. It amused me. Not because I wanted their attention, but because I knew exactly what they’d never get. Let them look—this body’s for women only.

“It’s not as bad as we thought,” Kohta answered, still staring through the binoculars, “but the situation’s still pretty dire. A few gunshots earlier, then nothing. Either they got out, or they didn’t make it.”

“Odds are leaning toward the latter,” I murmured, stepping beside him. “Let me get a look.”

He handed me the binoculars without hesitation, hands fumbling just a little too long as he passed them off. I raised them to my eyes, scanning the street below. Rotting corpses wandered aimlessly, some in clumps, some alone. There was no clear path for the bus—too many bodies. The Humvee could muscle through, but the bus would get torn to pieces.

“Hopefully by morning, we’ll have less out there.” I muttered, lowering the binoculars.

“Hopefully.” Takeshi echoed, but there was no real hope in his voice—just exhaustion.

I glanced at both of them, saw the weight dragging their shoulders. They needed rest. “You two better lie down. I’ll take it from here.”

They looked at me, concern painted across both faces.

“You sure?” Takeshi asked, that unshakable sense of leadership flickering in his eyes.

“I’m sure.” I smiled, just enough to show teeth. “I don’t need much sleep. You guys go ahead. I want to make sure we’ll have a clear route for tomorrow.”

Kohta tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

I started stretching—arms above my head, spine popping as I twisted. I did it slowly, deliberately, letting my muscles flex under their gaze. “Zombies don’t see well without sound. I figure if I’m quiet, I can take a few down—thin the herd, make it easier tomorrow.”

Takeshi stepped forward, worry creasing his brow. “You’re going out there? Alone?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “If things go to shit, I’m fast enough to lose them. Worst case? I find a place to hide, double back, climb the wall into the backyard. No big deal.”

Still, they didn’t look convinced. I opened my mouth to say more—but someone else beat me to it.

“You two really need to rest,” Saeko’s voice cut in smoothly, like silk laced with steel. She stepped into the room, graceful and composed, wiping her hands on a cloth—she must’ve just finished helping Kyoko with tomorrow’s bentos. “And if you’re still worried, I’ll watch Rebecca’s back from here. I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Takeshi frowned. “But Sae—”

“Rest, Komuro-san.” Her tone left no room for argument, and the glare she gave him was fierce enough to make even the zombie horde hesitate, I’d wager. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow. I’ve rested already. Now go.”

With both of us pushing them, they didn’t have much choice. Grumbling softly, they headed toward the room’s futons. Kohta cast me one last lingering glance before disappearing behind the sliding door.

Once the boys were gone, I turned toward Saeko. She was already watching me.

That look in her eyes—fuck. It wasn’t subtle. Heat simmered beneath her calm exterior. Her gaze traveled over me, lingering where it shouldn’t, a slow burn that lit me up from the inside. I smirked, letting my own eyes drink her in. The tension between us was a live wire, humming with potential.

We didn’t speak for a moment. We didn’t need to.

The bathroom earlier had cracked the dam. This—whatever was between us—it was already happening.

I walked up to her, close enough to smell the faint scent of soap and alcohol clinging to her skin. “Be sure to watch my back, yeah?” I murmured, voice low and teasing.

“I will.” she replied, her voice soft and velvety.

I turned, ready to head downstairs. But before I could take a single step, her hand shot out, gripping my wrist. She pulled me into her—firm, urgent. I looked up at her, surprised, and then her lips were on mine.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was claiming.

Her mouth pressed against mine, demanding. I gasped, just slightly, and that was all she needed—her tongue pushed past my lips, hot and eager. I responded in kind, parting my lips further, matching her intensity. For a moment, she was in control—tongue teasing, dancing. But I didn’t stay passive for long.

I pushed back, catching her off guard. My tongue tangled with hers, twisting, forcing her to match me stroke for stroke. Our kiss turned fierce, primal. Our bodies pressed together, hands roaming, breath catching.

When we finally broke apart, Saeko was panting, eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

“Take responsibility,” she whispered, her voice breathy. “For what you did to me.”

My grin came easy. “Of course, my little monster~.”

I reached up, kissed her cheek, lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. Then I pulled back, untangling from her arms, feeling heat still pooled low in my belly. I was fired up now—not just from the kiss, but from the thrill of the hunt.

Time to kill some zombies.

I slipped downstairs, moving through the shadows like I belonged to them. My steps were soft, deliberate. The front door creaked slightly as I opened it, but I was quick, slipping into the night with only a whisper of sound.

The air outside was thick—cool, damp, filled with decay. The moans of the undead echoed faintly from nearby streets. I crouched low, moving through the garden like a ghost.

One zombie near the gate twitched, head cocking to the side.

I crept closer, knife I took from the kitchen in hand. No sound. No breath.

In one swift motion, I drove the blade through its skull, easing it down silently.

One down.

I moved on, weaving between bushes, using the moonlight to spot targets. Every kill was methodical. Quiet. I wasn’t here to cause a scene. I was here to prune the danger before it blossomed.

I kept count in my head—five, ten, thirteen. Each kill getting me closer to earning [Credits], the familiar ding in my head like coins in a jar. Efficient. Rewarding.

And somewhere, I knew Saeko was watching.

She’d see me move, graceful and lethal. She’d feel that same hunger I did. The kind of hunger that started with blood and ended in bed sheets twisted from struggle.

I didn’t do it for her.

But damn, it made the night more fun.

{Saeko's POV}

Rebecca was a strange woman.

She claimed to be from America and insisted that Japan was the only place she could go to. I never got a solid answer about why, not really, but that was the thing about Rebecca. You never really got straightforward anything from her.

Honestly, I didn’t think coming here was the brightest idea. Rebecca already stood out far too much with the way she acted—loud, brash, like she didn’t give a single fuck who heard her. Her voice carried in a way that grated against the quiet, wary tension of Japan. But even more than her attitude, it was her appearance that would get people talking. Her skin was a blue-green shade that shimmered faintly in sunlight, the kind of hue that made you blink twice just to be sure you weren’t seeing things. Her eyes were weird too, too bright, too sharp, like twin blades made of neon. Not to mention the tattoos that ran along her arms and back, glowing faintly in the dark like city lights still living on her skin.

The average Japanese citizen wouldn’t have liked her. Hell, they wouldn’t have even tolerated her. But that didn’t matter anymore. Not now. Not in this world, where the dead had risen and society had crumbled to ash.

My first impression of her? Honestly? She was weird. Not just because of how she looked, but because of how she moved. How she fought. She smiled when she killed zombies—really smiled, like it brought her joy. She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. I saw her smash in a zombie’s skull and then casually lick blood off her hand like it was nothing. And I’m pretty damn sure she killed Shido-sensei. No one wanted to believe it. The others just nodded along with her explanation about how he "got himself killed." But I knew. I knew. She didn’t even deny it, not exactly. Just said, “He did something stupid and suffered the consequences”

And, God help me, I found that hot. Her raw, unapologetic brutality. The way she looked at violence like it was foreplay. The blood on her hands didn’t scare me. It made my heart race.

I’d never met anyone like Rebecca before. Someone that close. Someone who made my repressed thoughts, my buried desires, feel valid—feel welcome. For years, I had pushed down the need for control, the craving for carnage. I played the good girl. The disciplined one. The swordswoman. But then came Rebecca, with her wild grin and her feral energy, and suddenly all those locked doors inside me started swinging open.

At first, I thought it was just admiration. Like how I admired Komuro-san when he took charge that first day. The way he didn’t hesitate to swing a bat at his classmate-turned-zombie impressed me. I even considered him as someone I might grow fond of. But then Rebecca came along, and she was so damn alive in a world full of corpses.

And now, watching her silently but viciously dismantle a small horde of the dead just outside our safehouse, I was more than impressed—I was aroused. Deeply, shamefully, unrelentingly aroused.

The way she moved, efficient and brutal, her body twisting and snapping into action with unnatural grace. Her twin ponytails whipping behind her like serpents. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t need to. Every movement was precise. Intentional.

And here I was, legs spread, fingers between my thighs, binoculars trained on her.

Did I care that Komuro and Kohta were sleeping in the next room?

Not really.

All I could focus on was Rebecca. Her strength. Her wildness. That dangerous, beautiful energy that poured off her like heat.

Even in the middle of my own pleasure, I kept one eye open. I wasn’t reckless. I was still watching her. Still making sure she was safe. But then—something changed. My breath caught.

I adjusted the binoculars, raising them higher. Movement at the edge of the block.

A man. And a little girl.

The father was banging on the door of a house, desperate, pleading. The girl was crying, clutching at his leg. They looked like they’d been running for days. Their clothes were tattered, blood-smeared. But the house—someone was inside.

Just as I started to shift my attention back to Rebecca, the door opened. Relief surged in me for half a second—until a spearhead burst from the man’s chest.

“Shit.” I hissed.

The father stumbled backward, hands clutching at the spear embedded in his chest. In his dying panic, he flailed—and somehow, the gate in front of the house swung open. The child screamed, kneeling beside him.

Zombies, slow but hungry, began to stagger toward her.

My first instinct? Leave them. Let the girl die. We couldn’t afford distractions. We couldn’t save everyone.

But…

“REBECCA!” I yelled, loud and raw.

My voice echoed through the night, sharp enough to wake the dead.

“What the hell, Saeko!?” Rebecca called back, instantly surrounded by reanimated corpses who now turned toward the sound.

“There’s a kid! North! Left side!” I pointed, breath heaving.

Rebecca’s demeanor shifted immediately. Her grin vanished, replaced by cold determination. She pivoted on one foot, drove her elbow into a zombie’s temple, and vaulted onto the brick wall lining the street in one fluid movement.

I was confident in her. In the strange, unnatural strength in her compact frame. In her inhuman balance and reflexes. I’d seen her tear through hordes like a storm of blades. Whatever augmented her—it worked.

Still, my heart raced.

“Busujima-senpai! Why were you shouting!?” Komuro burst onto the veranda, gun in hand.

“There’s a kid out there. I had to call Rebecca-san to help.” I was already strapping on my sword, stepping into my shoes.

“Huh? What do you mean a kid?” Komuro blinked the sleep from his eyes, trying to make sense of it.

“A child. Father just got killed. Zombies are closing in. Rebecca’s already on the way.”

He took the binoculars from me and muttered, “Fuck…” when he saw it. “Can Rebecca even make it in time—?”

A loud gunshot cut through the air.

We turned in time to see Kohta on the veranda, rifle steady against his shoulder.

“What the hell are you waiting for!? Move your asses!”

Kohta didn’t yell often, but when he did, he meant business. I smiled faintly. Sometimes I forgot how much steel the boy had in his spine.

“We’re packing up!” I barked, already heading for the stairs. “This place is compromised!”

People were waking up now, grumbling and confused. The gunshot had done what my shouting hadn’t.

“Saeko-senpai? What’s going on?” Yuki murmured, rubbing her eyes.

“Get your shit. Everyone. We’re moving out.”

I didn’t wait for questions. I started shaking shoulders, issuing orders. Yuki got the others up, her voice tinged with urgency now. The others followed suit quickly enough.

Outside, gunshots kept ringing.

Rebecca was fighting. And I had no doubt she was winning.

But I wasn’t just worried about the zombies. I was worried about her.

I wanted her to come back. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to… I don’t know.

Touch her.

Hold her.

Maybe kiss her.

I couldn’t think about that now, but it burned in the back of my throat like a secret I couldn’t swallow.

Rebecca, the strange, lethal, chaotic force of nature, had become the only person who truly understood the darkness in me. And I wanted her. Desperately.

If we survived tonight, I’d find a way to tell her.

Maybe not in words.

But I’d find a way.

{Rebecca's POV}

I got distracted. Not just a little either—I was absolutely soaked in the thrill, lost in the rhythm of the hunt. Zombies were dropping like flies, their rotted heads popping under my strikes or getting split clean with a well-placed slash. I kept moving, weaving through the streets like a shadow with bloodlust, taking advantage of how damn blind they were unless someone made noise. Every groan they gave before going down just fueled the fire. I wasn’t just killing—I was raking them in like some nightmarish harvest.

See, for every 100 zombies I took out, I earned [20 Credits], and thanks to my [Patron], that amount got doubled. Not bad, right? From yesterday and tonight alone, I’d already racked up 239 confirmed kills. That netted me a grand total of [80 Credits]. Not gonna lie—it made me damn near feral. I felt electric, almost vibrating from the rush. The scent of gunpowder and blood was starting to feel more like home than any safehouse we’d stayed in.

But in the haze of it all, I forgot why I came down these streets in the first place.

There was supposed to be a rescue. Someone important—one of the main cast, a kid no less—was in danger tonight. I should’ve kept that front and center in my mind. But no, I let myself get drunk off the bloodshed, let the world around me fade while I danced in red.

Thank fuck for Saeko.

While I was knee-deep in corpses, she spotted the kid. Her shout snapped me out of it, and yeah, sure, it stirred up the undead too. A whole chorus of hungry moans started echoing through the street, but the second she mentioned a child being in trouble, my entire focus shifted. I bolted.

Didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back.

Saeko pointed, and I followed. I leapt up onto a narrow brick wall, sprinting along its edge like it was a damn tightrope. My balance and reflexes kept me from eating shit. There were gaps though—intersections, alleyways, broken fences—that forced me to drop down, cut through a few more undead, and climb up the next wall. I kept moving forward, blade in hand, every kill smooth and practiced.

Eventually, I saw it. The only house on the street with lights still on.

That had to be it.

Gunshots rang out just as I landed behind the last stretch of wall. Zombies were dropping in front of the house, bullet holes bursting through their skulls. Kohta was awake. I could hear his steady cadence—sharp, controlled, efficient.

I pushed harder, legs burning as I sprinted the last stretch.

Just as I reached the front yard, I saw the fucker. A zombie, closer than the rest, lurching toward a small trembling figure in the doorway. A child, frozen in fear. No time to hesitate.

I launched myself through the air, foot leading like a goddamn missile. I smashed my heel straight into the zombie’s face, sending it flying. The impact didn't even jar my ankle, but I rolled with it, hitting the ground and springing right back up. Another one came shambling out of the side, and I didn’t even blink—my knife flew from my hand and buried itself in its eye socket.

"Kid! Just stay there, alright?" I called out, throwing a glance her way.

She was clutching a puppy, wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf in a storm. I didn’t wait for an answer—I turned back and started carving a path through the horde, pushing my way toward the gate. Kohta’s bullets were helping clear them out from his perch, giving me enough breathing room to slam the gate shut behind me.

It wouldn’t hold forever. But it would buy us a little time.

"Hey, you alright there?" I asked, panting slightly, eyes scanning for more movement.

The girl clutched the dog tighter. "Th-thank you for saving me, o-onee-chan."

I offered her a faint smile. "A friend of mine saw you. That’s why I came running. Can’t ignore something like that, can I?"

I crouched in front of her and gently patted her head. She looked fragile, like one wrong word might break her. "Let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?"

I reached out my hand. She stared at it for a heartbeat, but then her gaze shifted to something else—something heavier.

"But... daddy..."

Her voice cracked. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she turned to look at the one corpse in the yard that wasn’t undead.

Her father.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck, the weight of guilt pressing down like a hammer. If I’d remembered sooner—if I’d ignored the call of blood for just five goddamn minutes—I might’ve saved him too. But I didn’t. I let it slip my mind. But most of all, I wasn't feeling much guilt.

I stood up and grabbed a white sheet hanging from the clothesline. Quietly, I laid it over his body. It didn’t feel like enough.

"C’mon, kid." I murmured.

She didn’t move, still rooted to the spot.

I bent down and picked a small flower from the ground, handing it to her. Her tiny hand closed around it, fingers trembling. She took one shaky step forward and knelt beside her father, laying the flower on his chest.

"Daddy..."

I gave her the moment. She deserved that much.

"We can’t stay here," I said, my voice soft but firm. "If we could bury him, I would. But right now, it’s not safe."

She nodded, barely.

I lifted her gently, cradling her in a princess carry. The puppy stayed nestled against her stomach, tail wagging weakly. With her eyes still on the body, I turned and jumped onto the wall again. The path home was long, but I wasn’t stopping now. Not until she was safe.

I ran.

The night air stung my lungs, the wind biting against my skin as I leapt and dashed across rooftops and broken walls. The moans of the undead still echoed in the distance, but I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t.

There was something different now. The bloodlust hadn’t vanished, not completely, but it was tempered by something else—something that hadn’t been there earlier. A need to protect, to hold onto this one small life clinging to mine.

My pace never faltered. Every creaking roof tile, every low growl from the streets below, I pushed past it all. The base wasn’t far now.

Chapter Text

{Rei's POV}

While we were loading our supplies onto the bus, a gnawing sense of worry clung to me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. My hands were busy, but my mind kept drifting—thinking of Rebecca-san. That strange woman, strange in every imaginable way. She was loud, unpredictable, and unapologetically crude, with that sharp voice that cut through the air like a blade. Yet somehow, over time, she had become part of our group—no, more than that. She had embedded herself into us like a splinter that we didn’t want to remove. She fit, in the most chaotic, unnatural way.

Despite her height—or lack of it—and her bizarre appearance, Rebecca-san was a powerhouse. Shorter than anyone I’d ever known, with that wild green hair tied up in pigtails, her blue-green skin marked by glowing pink tattoos like she was ripped straight out of some fever dream. Still, she had an energy that never seemed to burn out. She was the first to take down any zombie that got too close, moving like a storm through our enemies. And gods, she was brutal about it. Efficient. Merciless. Like violence was just second nature to her.

At first, I didn’t trust her. Of course I didn’t. Who would? Especially after she ended up with that bastard Shido during our escape from school. Back then, I was so sure she’d turned into one of them, a monster like him. I even told the others we should consider her dead weight, even said she probably deserved whatever happened to her.

But she came back.

She came back alone.

Said Shido got himself killed doing something stupid—and the way she said it, almost sing-songy with that crooked smile, it felt...right. Like justice delivered by something otherworldly. And I had to admit it: I was glad. Genuinely relieved that he was gone and that she—Rebecca-san—was back with us. Back with me.

After things quieted down a bit, we got to talking. Well, more like she talked, and I listened. Rebecca-san had a way of pulling people in, like gravity wrapped in chaos. She’d laugh loudly, curse like a sailor, smack you on the back hard enough to jolt your spine, and somehow, despite it all, make you feel like you mattered. Like she saw you. Not the version you pretended to be, but the one beneath it.

I started to like her. More than I probably should have.

I thought we were just going to be close friends, you know? Maybe even best friends. I didn’t expect things to get so intimate—so fast. But then again, nothing ever goes slow with Rebecca-san. Not her words, not her kills, not the way she made me feel like I was spiraling and safe at the same time.

We’d been drinking. Not too much, just enough to loosen the tight knots of survival in our chests. I laughed. I had fun. But eventually, once things settled and the others dozed off or busied themselves elsewhere, my mind wandered to the darker corners.

To Hisashi.

He’d been kind. Loving, even. A genuinely good boyfriend. And I had used him. Dated him just to make Takeshi jealous—dense, oblivious Takeshi. And now Hisashi was gone. Killed after he turned into a zombie. Killed by Takeshi, no less. All because I couldn’t follow through. Couldn’t give Hisashi the mercy he begged me for.

That guilt festered inside me like rot. And Rebecca-san? She noticed.

She sat beside me, silent for once, watching me with those sharp, inhuman eyes. I tried to hide how broken I was, but of course she saw through it. Of course she did. She told me it was okay to be hurt. That what I felt was valid. Then she told me—without a hint of judgment, just brutal honesty—that it was my fault. That I had been a bad girl. That I'd used someone who trusted me.

And gods... hearing that from her, it hurt. Not because it was cruel, but because it was true.

I wanted to curl in on myself, vanish into the floorboards. But she didn’t let me. Rebecca-san leaned closer, grabbed my chin and tilted my head until I looked her in the eyes.

"Then be better," she said. "Be my good girl. Listen. Obey. Stop trying to lead when you're clearly lost."

And I—I don’t even know why—but I agreed. I wanted to agree.

For once, I didn’t want to make choices. Didn’t want to be responsible. I just wanted someone to take the weight off me and decide. And Rebecca-san? She did. She told me what to do, how to feel, how to breathe—and I let her. Her voice became my anchor.

I wanted her approval more than anything now.

That moment, something changed between us. She wasn’t just part of our group anymore. She was something else. Something more. I felt the tension grow thick in the air between us. Every time she looked at me, it was like my skin was on fire. I could barely think straight when she touched my arm, let alone when she pulled me into her lap and told me to stop thinking altogether.

And I—I melted. I needed it.

I needed her.

Now, standing at the bus, packing the last of our supplies, my stomach twisted into knots. Because Rebecca-san was still out there, and if she died—if she got herself killed trying to save someone—then I wouldn’t get to see what this thing between us could become. Wouldn’t get to know what it felt like to fully give myself to her control.

"Is everything inside!?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. Desperate. Breathless. My heart pounded like it wanted to burst out of my chest.

"Yeah! All the food we had is inside!" Momo-san called out.

"I double-checked! We have everything we need—water, meds, fuel, even the batteries!" Fumiko added, rushing over to the door.

Everyone else echoed similar confirmations, and I could barely process it all. My gaze locked on Saya, who flashed her light toward Kohta. He packed up his rifle without needing to be told twice. The soft clink of metal reassured me.

Good. That meant we could finally go.

We were ready.

I was ready.

But more than anything, I needed to see her again. To hear her curse at me for worrying too much. To feel that electric buzz in my skin every time she said my name. I didn’t care if the others noticed the way I leaned too close, or the way I lit up when she looked at me.

Rebecca-san had become mine.

And I? I was hers. I didn’t need her to say it aloud. I just needed to feel it again.

Maybe I was being stupid. Maybe I was just lonely. Maybe what we shared wasn’t real. But none of that mattered.

Because even if it was all in my head, even if it ended the next day, I still wanted it.

I still wanted her.

And if anyone stood between me and Rebecca-san, god help them. Because I was going to bring her back—no matter what.

Even if I had to tear through every last undead bastard between us.

Even if I had to become someone just as brutal.

Just like her.

{Saeko's POV}

The Humvee roared, its engine snarling like a beast unchained, as it plowed through clusters of the undead swarming the road ahead of us. Bone and sinew crunched beneath the heavy wheels, a grotesque reminder that this was our world now—brutal, relentless, and unforgiving. Everything we had managed to gather had already been packed inside the bus, so there was no hesitation. We launched into action immediately.

Kyoko-sensei was at the wheel of the Humvee, her grip steady, her gaze focused. I stood atop the vehicle, my body swaying with the motion, muscles tense and ready to leap into battle. Hirano-san, halfway out of the roof hatch, had his gun at the ready, his eyes constantly scanning for threats. Our destination: Rebecca-san.

Behind us, the school bus followed closely, no more than a few meters behind, driven by the ever-ditzy yet dependable Shizuka-sensei. Inside were the rest of our companions, all holding their breath for what would happen next.

"I see Rebecca-san!" Hirano-san called out over the chaos, and true enough, my eyes locked onto her a heartbeat later. There she was—Rebecca—her compact frame darting like a phantom over the brick wall, her twin pigtails bouncing with each step. Cradled in her arms were a trembling child and a scruffy puppy, both clinging to her like she was salvation incarnate.

The moment our eyes met, my heart jolted, an involuntary response to the feral grin splitting her face. Gods, that grin. It was wild, dangerous, and alive in a way that matched something deep inside me, something primal. She picked up her pace, effortlessly gaining speed atop the uneven wall.

"We're getting close! Get ready to face some zombies!" Kyoko-sensei shouted, her voice sharp against the wind. She slammed her foot down on the accelerator, and I tightened my grip, my body tensed like a coiled spring.

We converged on her position quickly. Zombies surged up between us like a final test, a wall of decay that threatened to keep us apart. But Rebecca-san never slowed. I could feel it—the shared understanding that passed between us, wordless but absolute. We would not be kept from each other.

We jumped. Simultaneously, without hesitation.

I landed in a crouch, my wooden sword swinging in a lethal arc, cleaving through the nearest zombie's neck before it could even groan. Rebecca-san landed beside me, a blur of motion and steel, her body moving with a dancer's grace and a predator's savagery. Her child-sized frame didn’t hinder her; it made her faster.

There was no time to think, only to act. I swung, parried, dodged, and struck again. Undead bodies crumpled around us, a symphony of violence that we conducted together, without missing a beat.

"Saeko-san! Get in!" Rebecca-san’s voice called from the Humvee.

I looked up. She was already inside with the child, who was clinging tightly to her. Blood smeared her cheeks and neck, her tattoos partially hidden beneath gore, but her expression was soft—softer than I had ever seen it. It stopped me for a moment.

A zombie lunged at me from behind, and I kicked it hard in the chest, sending it flying. Without hesitation, I sprinted for the Humvee, leapt onto the roof, and banged the butt of my sword against the metal. Kyoko-sensei immediately understood and stepped on the gas. I held on tight as we barreled through more of the undead.

Only when I was certain we were in the clear did I drop into the vehicle through the hatch.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat. Rebecca-san sat in the back, the girl trembling in her lap as she gently stroked her hair. Her expression was completely different from the one she had worn on the battlefield. That wild grin had vanished, replaced by a look of serenity so gentle it almost hurt to see.

"Hey there, Saeko-san. Thanks for watching my back." she said, her voice low and oddly melodic. Her pink tattoos pulsed faintly against her skin, the dim light inside the Humvee casting strange, beautiful shadows over her form.

"I promised I would," I replied, settling in across from her. "And I always keep my promises."

Our eyes met, and something passed between us—something electric. My chest tightened, but not from fear. I watched as her fingers continued to thread through the girl's hair with a surprising tenderness.

"Still," she murmured, craning her neck to glance out the back window at the bus, "didn't think you'd get everyone out."

"We'd already drawn too much attention," I said, arms crossed beneath my chest, pointedly ignoring the way Hirano-san was gawking at my breasts. He always looked, but that was all he’d ever do. These were Rebecca-san’s now, whether she knew it yet or not. "There was no point in staying. Better to move than to wait for the swarm."

Rebecca shrugged, unfazed, and turned her attention back to the child.

"Hey, Alice-chan. You doing okay now?"

The girl, her eyes still red from crying, gave a small nod. She was clinging tightly to the puppy in her lap.

"That’s good," Rebecca-san smiled. "I want you to meet some people. That one over there is Hirano-san." She gestured with a slight motion of her chin.

Hirano gave an awkward wave, his voice cracking when he tried to say something but wisely staying quiet.

"The gorgeous woman driving is Kyoko-san. Don’t mind her, she’s just laser-focused. And right in front of us here—this fine, terrifyingly beautiful warrior—is Saeko-san. She’s the one who told me about you."

I smiled softly and gave a small wave. "I’m sorry about your father, Alice-san."

I reached out and gently patted her head. She flinched slightly at the mention of her father, but she didn’t pull away. Brave girl. I respected that.

Then my gaze drifted back to Rebecca-san. And stayed there.

She noticed, of course. Rebecca noticed everything. Her eyes flicked up to mine, and for a long, heated moment, neither of us looked away. She tilted her head, lips curling into a teasing smirk.

"Something on your mind, Saeko-san?"

"Many things," I murmured. "But most of them are not for the ears of children."

That made her chuckle, her laugh low and husky. She looked away only to adjust Alice-chan in her lap.

Despite the blood and grime, despite the violence and chaos we had just come through, I found myself marveling at the contrast. The woman who could decapitate a zombie in a heartbeat was now whispering sweet reassurances to a scared child. It was jarring. And beautiful.

I leaned back against the interior wall of the Humvee, letting myself breathe, finally. We were alive. For now.

My decision to call Rebecca-san, to risk everything to save that child, had felt impulsive in the moment. But now, looking at her like this, seeing her hold that child like she was something fragile and sacred... I knew I had made the right call.

It reminded me that I wasn’t just some sword-wielding killer. That somewhere beneath all the blood and duty, I still had a heart. Rebecca did too.

We were monsters, maybe. But monsters could still love.

And I was beginning to suspect that my heart, dark and scarred as it was, had found something worth beating for again.

"Hey, Saeko-san," Rebecca murmured again, so quiet only I could hear, "you really are something else."

I smiled faintly, warmth blooming deep in my chest. "Takes one to know one."

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before returning to Alice. The tension between us didn't fade, it merely settled—like a fire banked for later. It would burn again. I could feel it.

For now, though, we had a child to protect. A world to survive. And maybe... maybe something new between us, growing quietly in the wreckage of the old.

{Rebecca's POV}

Once Alice had finally drifted off to sleep, I took that quiet, rare moment of calm to pull up [The Waifu Catalog]. The soft whirring of the night filled the air, punctuated only by Saeko’s faint breathing. The moonlight slanted across the room, glinting off the steel of the car's frame. She looked serene and lethal all at once, lying there like a predator in waiting. Beautiful, dangerous Saeko. Even now, half-lidded eyes fluttering between wakefulness and dream, she exuded that same intoxicating aura of grace and threat. She was too close. She always was.

Thankfully, I didn’t need a phone to access the catalog. It just appeared before my eyes like a phantom interface, an augmented overlay visible only to me. That saved me the trouble of fumbling with any tech and let me dive right into it as quietly and discreetly as possible. My fingers moved across nothing, flipping through options, tabs, filters, prices.

I had [80 Credits] to burn. Not bad. Not enough to go wild with, but enough to be thoughtful. Or reckless. I still had a mountain of [Objectives] left to complete, and the [Missions] weren’t going to finish themselves. Credits would keep flowing in, especially with that kill-count bonus. Every 100 zombies netted a fresh payout, though I could only repeat it three more times before that faucet ran dry.

Still, the question lingered. What should I spend my precious [Credits] on? Should I focus on something practical, something that boosts my odds of survival? Or should I go all in on [Capturing] the ones I’ve had my eye on? Temptation tugged me in every direction. There were so many paths to walk down, and they were all soaked in blood, lust, and madness.

"Pragmatism or indulgence." I whispered to myself, tapping a finger against my lips. My voice was just a murmur, but Saeko stirred slightly, letting out a breath that brushed against my thigh. I froze, pulse fluttering, gaze drifting down to her face. She wasn’t awake, not fully. But part of her always was. That made her so fun—and so dangerous.

Eventually, I made my decisions.

I picked up [Arlo], [White Knight], and [Honest to the Bone].

[Arlo] was an easy choice. Alice was with us now, and I wasn’t about to let her trail behind like dead weight. If I was going to protect her—and I was—then I’d at least ensure she had some utility. No point letting potential go to waste. Morally gray? Absolutely. But that shade of gray looked good on me.

[White Knight] came next. It made perfect sense. I’d been saving people left and right, risking my neck for them, bleeding for them. Why not make it so they fell for me a little faster while I was at it? Attraction is easier when you’re playing hero, and I wasn’t above stacking the deck.

Then came [Honest to the Bone]. A promise kept. The inability to lie was annoying as hell, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. Besides, it seemed to have some weird charisma effects. People liked honesty, especially the kind that was painful and raw. And I had no problem slicing truth open like a fresh wound. I wasn’t about to sugarcoat anything just to spare someone’s feelings.

With a handful of [Credits] still left to throw around, I figured I might as well go further.

[Universal Calibration I].

[Sexual Calibration].

I bought both. Curiosity is a bitch, and I was too far gone not to scratch that itch.

As soon as I confirmed the purchases, something... shifted.

The world didn’t shimmer. It didn’t shake or collapse or scream. Nothing grand or flashy. It just was.

My body buzzed, like static crawling across my skin. I looked at Saeko first—still lying there, still deadly and divine—but something was off. Subtle things. She looked... older. Just a bit. Not enough to break canon, but enough for someone with my eyes to notice. A shade more maturity to her cheekbones, a slight curve to her hips that hadn’t been there before.

Her chest—yes, larger by a cup. I could see it even beneath the tight tank top clinging to her skin. And just out of curiosity, my gaze dropped lower. Not because I was a pervert—okay, maybe partially—but because something felt off. And sure enough, there it was: a faint bulge where there hadn’t been one before.

I blinked.

Then I felt it, too.

A strange warmth blooming between my legs. A pressure. A fullness.

Sliding a hand beneath the waistband of my pants, I paused. Tension in my throat. A sharp inhale.

"Well, shit." I muttered, pulling my hand back with a stunned look on my face.

I had a dick.

The revelation hit me in slow waves, not like a crash, but a rising tide. A part of me wanted to panic. Another part was already adapting. And then, a grin spread across my lips.

"I can work with this."

My eyes drifted back to Saeko. My grin widened. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, the tip of her tongue visible. Her breath was shallow. Her thighs, spread just a bit. She hadn’t noticed anything. Not the changes in herself. Not the changes in me. [Universal Calibration I] had done its job. Everything was normal.

But I knew better.

She was more tempting than ever now. And me? I was a ticking time bomb of curiosity and lust.

Sliding closer, I let my hand brush against her arm. Just enough to tease. Just enough to test boundaries.

She stirred. Her eyes fluttered open halfway, gazing at me through a haze of semi-consciousness.

"Mm... you’re still awake?" she murmured.

"Couldn’t sleep. Too many things to think about." I replied, my voice smooth, each word chosen carefully. True, technically. I couldn’t lie even if I wanted to. Not without dancing around it with truth-bent phrasing and deliberate omissions.

She smiled faintly. "You think too much."

"You’ve seen what happens when I don’t."

She chuckled, eyes closing again. But she didn’t move away.

My fingers trailed down her arm slowly. Not possessive. Just... curious.

"You’re warmer than usual." I said quietly, not bothering to hide the interest in my tone. It wasn’t lecherous. Not yet. But it could become that, so easily.

"Mm... maybe I’m dreaming about you."

I raised a brow. "Hope it’s not a nightmare."

"Hardly."

Silence fell again, but the tension didn’t go anywhere. It hovered between us like smoke.

The new anatomy didn’t feel foreign. It felt...right, somehow. Like it had always been a part of me, just hidden. Like I had been calibrated into something better, something fuller. Something more.

I licked my lips, watching Saeko sleep.

This world was already a brutal, blood-drenched playground. But now? Now, I had the means to bend it even more to my will. And I wasn’t going to waste that.

More [Credits] would come.

More [Captures].

More power.

But for now, I let the moment sit. Let the warmth of Saeko’s body against mine hum like a coiled wire.

Because the game was only just beginning.

And I was going to win.

Even if I had to fuck my way through every damn obstacle.

Even if I had to burn the whole world down, one moan and blade-slice at a time.

Before the sun could even peek out from beneath the edge of the horizon, we reached the bridge. The early light painted the sky in pale lavender hues, but the road ahead was anything but tranquil.

"That's a lot of cars." I muttered under my breath, arms crossed as I surveyed the gridlock. I was already mapping out the logistics of clearing the mess to make way for the bus.

"We can't get through that." Hirano-san added, tone grim. His eyes flicked from wreck to wreck, already calculating the same impossibility I saw.

"Kyoko-san, park the Humvee by the river." I instructed, voice smooth yet firm. The orange-haired woman gave a tight nod, already twisting the wheel.

With the bus following close behind, Kyoko guided the Humvee down the slope. The descent wasn’t too rough, just enough to rattle our bones. We finally came to a stop on a relatively flat strip beside the riverbank. The bus remained above, idling like a waiting beast. A moment later, Saya stepped out, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation, though the way her chest bounced when she stepped out made it hard to take her too seriously. Honestly, it looked like physics gave up trying to contain her.

"Hey, Saya-chan, you think the bus can cross the river?" The honorific rolled off my tongue easily, intimate in a way that hadn't existed before today. Our shared moments earlier, us girls,—ones thick with heat and breathless murmurs, of secrets shared and past dreams lost—had drawn us closer. We weren’t just survivors anymore. We were us, and that changed things. It made first names and casual tones feel natural, even warm.

She blinked, surprised, then slipped into a thinking pose with one hand beneath her chin. That sharp mind of hers was already running through possibilities. I let her think. Out of all of us, she was the one to poke holes in any dumb plan, but even she had started relying on me more. Trust grew like that—in silence and fire.

"If the water level isn't too high, then I believe it can," she finally said, measured and calm. "Though... getting over that slope..."

She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to. She’d already caught on. We were on the same wavelength.

"It wouldn't be able to get up, huh? Guessed as much." I replied, eyes narrowing as I scanned the incline. The slope was too steep, and the approach too short. No way the bus could get enough momentum to climb out.

"Oi! Why don't you get the rest out first so we can make a proper plan?" I called up to her, waving lazily. She nodded and turned to shout for the others.

One by one, they filed out. Komuro approached first, bat held tight in his grip, his eyes constantly scanning for movement.

"What do you think, Rebecca-san?" he asked, voice low, eyes narrowing as he took in the river.

"If we want to get across, the river’s the only way," I said, letting each word ring true. "Too many cars on the bridge. Try clearing them and we risk setting off an alarm. You know what that’ll bring."

He nodded, jaw clenched. The truth didn’t need a sugar coating. That’s the beauty of it.

Saya returned, wiping her hands on her shirt. "Good news. Water level’s low enough. The vehicles can pass through, as long as we’re careful."

I nodded back, though the gears in my head didn’t stop turning.

"We can get across, but the slope’s still a bitch. The bus won’t be able to get up on its own."

A silence fell between us. Ditching the bus was an option, sure, but then came the logistics—supplies, space, people. Twelve of us, not counting the damn dog. The Humvee wasn’t made for that kind of load.

I rubbed my chin. "Huh. Let's just get both the Humvee and the bus to the other side. Once we’re there, we find some cars to steal. Pretty sure I can hotwire a few. That way, we don’t have to cram into the Humvee or leave anything behind."

They exchanged glances, muttering amongst themselves. Eventually, the nods came.

"Alright," Kyoko said, stepping closer. She gave me a sideways glance, her eyes trailing lower than necessary. "Just say the word, Rebecca."

"Word." I said with a crooked grin. Her lips twitched.

The bus went first, slowly easing into the river. Its tires splashed into the shallows, groaning under the resistance of water. We all stood ready. Saeko and I walked along the side, close enough for the spray to reach our legs.

"Not bad for a plan you came up with on the fly." she murmured, her voice close to my ear. Her breath tickled, warm against my skin.

I tilted my head toward her, grinning. "I tend to shine when everything’s going to shit."

She let out a low chuckle. "You’re chaos incarnate."

"Only on Tuesdays." I replied. Her gaze lingered a second too long. The tension buzzed between us like an electric current.

The river got deeper midway. Tires slowed, water lapping against the metal. The bus stalled slightly.

"Shit." Komuro grunted.

"Push!" I shouted.

Everyone who could rushed into the water. The cold bit at our legs as we braced against the vehicle. My boots sunk into the silt as I shoved with everything I had. Kyoko was beside me, sleeves rolled up, soaked to the waist. Her shirt clung to her in ways that made it difficult to focus.

"Could’ve warned me I’d get wet." she muttered, smirking.

"Wouldn’t be as fun then, would it?" I replied, flashing a toothy grin. She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

Behind us, Saya slipped a bit and grabbed my shoulder to steady herself. Her chest pressed into my arm.

"Sorry." she mumbled, eyes flicking to mine.

"Didn’t mind." I said, my words laced with something that made her cheeks flush.

We pushed again, this time with more strength. The bus lurched forward, tires finally gaining some grip. Slowly, it rolled onto the opposite bank.

"That’s one." I panted, catching my breath.

Next came the Humvee. We went back to the other side, though not all of us did. The Humvee was stronger than the bus, so it should be able to push through without us needing to constantly push it. Kyoko got it into the water with practiced ease. I walked beside it, hand occasionally brushing hers through the open window.

"Keep going straight. Slight angle left now." I directed.

"You like giving orders, huh?" she teased, one brow raised.

"Only when people like taking them."

Her laugh was low, playful. "Oh, I do."

The Humvee started to sink slightly near the midpoint. Once again, we all jumped in to push. Water soaked my shorts and chilled my thighs. Saeko joined me, hands brushing against mine as we both shoved.

"You know," she said, voice barely audible over the water’s noise, "you’d make a beautiful oni."

"That a compliment or a threat?"

"Yes."

Our eyes met, and neither of us looked away.

Saya joined us again, huffing as she pushed. Her top was soaked, skin peeking through as the fabric clung tight. Every time I looked her way, she was already watching me.

We pushed harder. Finally, the Humvee groaned and dragged itself up onto the bank. We collapsed back, wet and panting. The sun was up now, and we were all soaked and steaming in the new light.

"We made it." Hirano gasped.

"Yeah." I said, looking from Saeko to Saya to Kyoko. The three of them stared back.

It wasn’t over—not by a long shot—but for now, we’d won this round.

Chapter Text

{Shizuka's POV}

Rebecca-chan was a strange one. Loud, shameless, and absolutely unapologetic about who she was, she strode into our chaotic little world like a wrecking ball with pink tattoos. She wasn’t just physically striking—with her green hair pulled into twin ponytails, bluish-green skin, and a stature that barely reached my chest—she was also strong. Impossibly strong. Stronger than her compact frame had any right to be. I had seen her throw a grown man across the street with a single arm, as if he weighed no more than a bundle of laundry. At first, I chalked it up to adrenaline or sheer freakish luck. But the more I saw her in action, the more I realized it wasn’t just luck.

Rebecca-chan explained, rather bluntly as always, that her abilities came from cybernetics. Apparently, she had undergone some intense modifications because of her belief in transhumanism. I didn’t know much about that philosophy, and even less about people who could actually pull off working cybernetics. Maybe it was something cooked up in an American lab, or some top-secret program. She didn’t offer many details, and I didn’t press. Part of me was scared to learn more. Still, I was grateful. She had saved Kyoko-chan’s life in a moment of complete madness. One second, Kyoko was about to be bitten, the next, Rebecca was there like a force of nature, blood on her shoes and that maddening, wild grin on her face. According to Kyoko-chan.

Now, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. I admit that. It took me longer than most to notice things, connect dots. But I worked damn hard to become a nurse. I survived grueling shifts, sleepless nights pumped full of caffeine, and Rika's rather vigorous... stress relief sessions. God, Rika. I hope she’s okay. I left her a note at her place about heading to Saya-chan’s estate. If she makes it there, maybe she’ll see it and find us.

But back to Rebecca-chan. Despite all the strangeness surrounding her, she had this undeniable magnetism. It was crude, raw, unfiltered. She said exactly what she thought, even when it was abrasive. And yet, people trusted her. They were drawn to her. Even Yuki-chan, who had been furious at first, couldn’t hold a grudge after seeing her in action. Rebecca wasn’t trying to be liked. She simply was. That kind of honesty—that feral, unwavering sincerity—it tugged people toward her like moths to flame.

And yes, I noticed. I saw the way the others began orbiting around her. I may be slow, but I’m not blind. The rest were still too young, too focused on surviving to see it, but I did. Rebecca-chan was weaving her influence through us like a silent puppeteer. Not maliciously, mind you. It wasn’t like my old college professors, the ones who tried to trade grades for sex. No, Rebecca’s manipulations were gentler, more like she was inviting us to come closer and feel safe.

Saeko-chan was already caught in her web. I could see it in the way she looked at Rebecca—eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed but always ready to pounce. She tried to hide it, but I noticed the way her breath quickened when Rebecca got close. And during fights, when Saeko killed, there was a distinct flush on her cheeks. A hardon beneath her clothes. It should have been disturbing, but it wasn’t aimed at us, only the undead. And honestly? She looked... happy around Rebecca. Mellowed. That dangerous, simmering energy of hers was redirected, fixated on someone who might just be strong enough to handle her.

Then there was Rei-chan. Sweet, dependable Rei. Her friendship with Rebecca blossomed quickly, almost suspiciously fast. I didn't pay much attention at first. Rei was kind to everyone, and Rebecca was, well, oddly charming in her own chaotic way. But after that night—the one where everything between them seemed to change—I caught Rei looking at Rebecca more than she did Takeshi-kun. There was a softness in her gaze, a curiosity that hinted at something deeper. Something budding.

Saya-chan was a little harder to read. Always so logical, so sharp-tongued. But even she wasn’t immune. I noticed the way her voice softened around Rebecca, the rare smiles she let slip when Rebecca teased her. There was potential there, something brewing just beneath the surface. Saya-chan never did well with uncertainty, but Rebecca’s unpredictability seemed to excite her.

Kyoko-chan was another story. Her affection was more straightforward. Rebecca had saved her, carried her to safety, protected her. That alone was enough for Kyoko to start warming up to her, but it was more than gratitude. I saw the way Kyoko’s eyes lingered when Rebecca walked away. The way her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach out and touch. There was tension there, something quietly smoldering.

And then there was me.

I wasn’t immune to her either. Far from it. Rebecca-chan had this way of looking at me—intense, focused, as if she could see right through me. Her smirk, sharp and full of mischief, made my stomach twist and heat crawl up my neck. It was maddening. No one had ever looked at me like that before, other than Rika-chan, but it's been so long. Like I was something to be devoured, cherished, and toyed with all at once.

Did I mind her manipulations? Her slow, deliberate seduction of all the women around her? Not really. She wasn’t forcing anyone. She didn’t need to. Her honesty, her presence, it was like gravity. It pulled us all in.

Yes, it had barely been two days. But in those two days, we’d faced death together. We’d fought, bled, and survived as a unit. Bonds formed fast in times like these. And Rebecca, despite her chaotic energy and foul mouth, was starting to feel like the heart of it all. Maybe it was because she never lied. Every word she said, no matter how shocking, was true. There was something oddly comforting about that. Even when her words were laced with vulgarity or threats, they held weight.

I couldn’t say the same for the world we lived in now. Lies got people killed. Pretending everything was fine only delayed the inevitable. But with Rebecca? There were no illusions. No sugarcoating. Just brutal, unflinching truth.

And that truth was: she wanted us. All of us. Her eyes lingered, her words danced around affection and desire, and her body language? That spoke volumes. The heat between her and Saeko-chan was practically tangible, especially when they fought together. One wrong move and they’d be fucking in the grass, zombies be damned. With Kyoko-chan, it was more subtle—protective touches, lingering glances, soft reassurances whispered when they thought no one was listening.

Rei-chan blushed too easily around her now, and Saya-chan would argue with Rebecca just to keep her attention. It was like we were all slowly being drawn into her orbit, willingly.

And me? I won’t pretend I didn’t want it. Her. I’d had my share of flings. Hell, Rika and I were practically joined at the hip when it came to stress relief. But this? This was different. Rebecca-chan didn’t feel like a fling. She felt like a storm, and I wanted to stand in the middle of it, feel the wind whip against my skin.

Is it bad that she wants us all? Maybe. But I get it. I really do. In a world where everything we loved had been ripped away, where our families were likely dead, and our homes destroyed, the idea of forming a new kind of family didn’t seem so crazy. A family born of chaos, bonded by fire and blood and desire.

So no, I wasn’t bothered.

If Rebecca-chan wanted us, all of us, then maybe that wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe, just maybe, she could give us something to hold onto. A reason to keep fighting. A reason to smile again.

God knows we need that.

And if I get to be part of that warmth, that madness, then I’ll take it. Every sharp smirk. Every lingering gaze. Every whispered promise.

Especially if they’re for me.

Especially me.

{Rebecca's POV}

Before we could even start looking for cars to move our supplies to, we needed a change of clothes. No point trying to survive a zombie apocalypse in soaked, clingy fabric that reeked of sweat and absolutely wet. The two men changed first, doing so in quick succession and giving us privacy as they went to scope out the perimeter for any lingering undead. We appreciated the gesture

"I still can't believe how big your tits are, Shizuka-sensei." Rei commented, her eyes unabashedly glued to the blonde's chest as Shizuka peeled off her damp shirt, letting her generous breasts breathe freely.

"Well," Shizuka replied smoothly, her voice as light and sweet as always, even as her gaze trailed lower, "I have to admit, your dick is certainly bigger than mine."

That pulled a snort out of me. The whole futanari thing? Yeah, [Universal Calibration I] definitely played a hand in that, warping most of the group—including Shizuka, Rei, Saya, Saeko, Kyoko, and myself—into our current states. Smooth skin, toned muscles, curves, and... well, cocks. All in one confusing but not unwelcome package.

We weren’t shy. We’d already bathed together before, seen each other in every angle and lighting. No one batted an eye at the nudity, even if some of us were already getting a little hard at the sight of exposed skin. I caught Saeko sneaking a glance at me as I peeled off my soaked booty shorts, and I didn’t blame her.

My cock sprang free, the green of my skin fading into a flushed pink at the tip, standing rigid and proud. It throbbed slightly with the sudden rush of cool air, and I didn’t bother hiding it. This was probably the only quiet moment I’d had to take a good look at it since the change, and shit, it had to be ten inches long—easily outclassing the others in size.

Saya’s was a solid six inches, tasteful even. Not too flashy, but the girth made it something special. Saeko? She had a gentle curve to hers, around seven inches and beautifully sculpted—definitely something I wouldn’t mind riding. Shizuka was straight, no curve, but matched Saeko in size. Rei surprised all of us with an eight-inch monster, thick with veins and not at all what you’d expect from someone who still blushed when you made dirty jokes. And Kyoko? Seven inches, maybe, but her head was wider than anyone else’s. It practically pulsed with restrained heat.

I smirked, licking my lips unconsciously. I could practically taste them already. I wanted to drop to my knees and let my tongue do the talking, but time was never our friend. Instead, I grabbed a clean pair of shorts and a cropped tank top that barely covered anything, especially with how large my breasts were thanks to [Body Tune-Up], dragging them on over my still-hard cock, the fabric doing very little to hide my arousal.

Everyone else changed quickly after that. Within minutes, we were ready.

"Okay, Saeko, Shizuka—come with me." I said, glancing at them both. Saeko, deadly and graceful, was my second-best fighter, and Shizuka... well, the woman couldn’t fight for shit, but she could drive, and Saeko couldn’t.

"Rei, Hirano-san, Komuro-san, please keep the group safe while we’re out." I added, nodding toward them.

"Of course, Rebecca-san! You can count on us!" Rei responded brightly, her voice practically wagging its tail like a loyal puppy.

I gave her a grin, sharp and affectionate. My little pet. After our last talk—the one that ended with her submitting to me in a way that made my blood hum—I hadn’t had much time to properly enjoy her. But I could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t bothered. She was eager.

With a final wave, I turned, leading Saeko and Shizuka away from the group and toward the bridge. The streets were quiet—too quiet.

We made it to the bridge, where a mess of abandoned cars waited like a graveyard of missed chances. I immediately dropped into a crouch and scanned the area for zombies. It was suspiciously clear. Too clear.

I didn’t trust it. Not one bit.

Crawling forward on instinct, I checked underneath the vehicles. No shuffling feet. No waiting corpses. Good. But I kept my blade close anyway.

"Stay close." I said, glancing back at Shizuka. She gave me a sheepish smile and nodded, stepping in close enough to take my hand. She was warm. Soft. I didn’t let go.

"We need sturdy cars," I continued, eyes scanning the row. "Ones that can handle being swarmed, and something we can siphon gas from, too."

Shizuka pointed at a Subaru ahead. "Do you think that’s good?"

I tilted my head and shrugged. "Good enough."

We approached carefully. I moved first, feet light on the pavement, ready to leap into action at the first sign of trouble. But the door opened easily, and I let out a low whistle.

"Would you look at that." I murmured, climbing in. The keys weren’t in the ignition, but I checked under the brakes and grinned when my fingers found cool metal.

I jammed the key into place and turned it. The engine rumbled to life.

"Fuck yeah." I hissed, grinning. But the gas gauge was low. I moved the car over the fallen barricade, pulling up in front of Shizuka.

"This one’s yours." I said, stepping out and tossing her the keys. She caught them—barely.

"Now, for the other car."

That search was a pain in the ass. Most of the newer models were locked, and I couldn’t hotwire shit without proper tools. It took us thirty minutes of scouring side streets and checking under the bridge before we found a parked police cruiser with an open door.

The catch? A dead officer slumped behind it.

"Guess he couldn't handle the end of the world." Saeko muttered.

I nodded, face unreadable, and dragged his body from the seat. Without ceremony, I tossed him over the railing and into the river. A silent burial. The zombies wouldn’t be feasting on him.

"Alright. Let’s check this baby out."

The keys were in the ignition, and the tank had a decent amount of gas. I turned it on and popped the trunk.

"Come~ to~ mama~." I sang out when I found a shotgun and a pistol waiting for me. The shotgun went over my shoulder immediately. I handed the pistol to Shizuka.

"Here. Take this. Your friend was a cop, right? Taught you to shoot?"

She nodded quickly, her eyes steady.

I smiled. "Then I trust you."

She beamed.

We started making our way back when I caught Saeko watching me again. Her gaze lingered, trailing down my frame, and when our eyes met, she didn’t look away. There was heat in her stare. She wanted to fight and kill. She wanted to fuck. Maybe both.

Kyoko had that same intensity earlier when I changed. Saya too. Her glances were curt but hungry. And Rei? She practically vibrated whenever I looked her way.

I didn’t say anything. But my thoughts... they were loud.

As we rolled back into the area where the group waited, I felt the tension thick in the air. Sexual, emotional, raw.

We had the cars. The weapons. We had each other.

Next stop—the Takagi Estate.

And something told me things were going to get a hell of a lot more complicated before they got easier.

Before we could even start scouting for cars to move our supplies into, the first order of business was something painfully mundane: a change of clothes. We were covered in blood, sweat, and god knows what else. So, before anything, we cleaned ourselves up and swapped into something less... apocalypse chic. Only after that did we regroup with the others and get to work.

The moment we got back with the rest of our group, I had them start unloading the bus immediately. No time for chit-chat or dragging their feet—we had shit to do. Supplies were offloaded from the bus and divvied up between the three vehicles we'd claimed: the bulky-ass Humvee, the reliable Subaru, and the cop car. Most of our gear got jammed into the Humvee, packed so tight you'd think it was a clown car full of rifles and ramen. The rest of it was distributed more evenly between the other two.

While they worked like good little ants, Saeko, Shizuko, and I finally took a much-needed breather. We found a quiet spot, sat down, and just talked. Not deep soul-searching kind of talk—more like the kind of conversation where your words barely matter, just the fact that someone else is still alive and listening. It was enough. We waited while the others hustled.

Once everything was squared away, I didn’t waste a second. I boarded the police car without so much as a backward glance. Shizuko would be handling the Subaru, riding alongside Komuro, Rei, and Hirano. Kyoko, being her usual take-charge self, hopped into the Humvee. She had Saya, Saeko, and Alice with her. I rode with Yuki, Momo, and Fumiko.

Naturally, Kyoko took the lead. It made sense—she was behind the wheel of the Humvee, and with Saya navigating us toward her family estate, she was as close to a commander as we had right now. Shizuko brought up the rear, keeping us from being boxed in. We moved like a convoy, like we actually knew what we were doing.

The ride started off quiet. Too quiet. Apart from the occasional zombie we had to turn into roadkill, the streets were strangely empty. Not that I was complaining, but it felt... off. Like we were in the eye of the storm.

Of course, that peace didn’t last.

It was like the universe realized we were getting a bit too comfy, and so it decided to screw us sideways. A massive horde suddenly appeared ahead of us—zombies packed so tightly together it looked like a nightmare mosh pit. Even the Humvee didn’t stand a chance of plowing through that. Kyoko didn’t hesitate. She yanked the wheel and made a hard right. I followed without a word. Then she made a sharp left—I followed again, eyes flicking from her taillights to the sea of bodies closing in.

"Fuck." I muttered darkly. There was that creeping sense of familiarity, like deja vu with a side of dread. I knew this scene. I remembered it from the anime. I thought—hoped—we’d avoided this path because of my presence, because I wasn’t supposed to be part of this world’s original script. But here it was, playing out anyway.

Then Kyoko swerved abruptly, hard. I saw what she was avoiding—wires. Dozens of them, strung across like a deadly web. They were rigged across the entrance to a narrow passageway, clearly put there to slow down or outright stop the undead.

I hit the brakes fast, the car screeching to a halt just in time. Shizuko behind me slammed her brakes too, the sound of the tires skidding loud and jarring. The Humvee rocked violently from the sudden stop, almost tipping forward.

"What the hell’s going on, Kyoko?!" I called out, half out the window, my voice edged with genuine concern. There were people I cared about in that beast.

Kyoko rolled down her window and shot me a thumbs up. I let out a sigh of relief.

"There’s a bunch of wires connected to the wall, Rebecca-san!" Saya’s voice rang out from inside the Humvee.

I clicked my tongue, annoyed. The Humvee probably could've muscled through if we pushed it, but with the horde breathing down our necks? Not a chance. Breaking those wires would be like opening the floodgates straight into Saya's estate. The wires weren’t just for show—they were a last line of defense. A barricade, designed to slow the undead.

We could’ve ditched the cars and gone through the wires on foot, sure. But that meant leaving our supplies behind, and that didn’t sit right with me. Plus, the zombies weren’t going to stop chasing us just because we jumped a fence.

Clicking my tongue again, I made my decision.

"Fuck it." I muttered under my breath, parking next to the barrier. I jumped out of the car and yelled, "Everyone, unload everything! Get the supplies across the wires—now! Anyone who can fight, protect the rest!"

Chaos erupted, but it was a controlled kind. Everyone moved fast, efficient. No one questioned me, not in the moment. I didn’t wait around either. While they moved gear, I tapped into [The Waifu Catalog] with my eyes, pulling up [Loan] like I was speedrunning desperation.

I bought [Template Stacking I: Hinata Hyuga]. Was it the smartest move? Probably not. But I needed something—anything—to buy us time. I wasn’t aiming for flash, just effectiveness. And Hinata? She might’ve been quiet and unassuming in her own world, but she wasn’t weak. Far from it.

As soon as the purchase went through, I felt the shift. Techniques, instincts, knowledge—they surged into me. Not the whole package, sure. But enough. Enough to make a difference.

"Rebecca! What the hell are you doing?!" Rei yelled, ditching the formalities in her panic.

I smirked at her, waving casually. "Buying us time, obviously~," I called out, my tone light, a bit singsong. I couldn’t lie, after all. But I could make the truth dance.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than my body moved. My palm struck out at a zombie’s skull, lightning-fast. I barely even registered the motion. One second it was there, the next—down. My eyes widened slightly.

"Well now... that’s a fuckin' rush."

I activated the Byakugan. My vision snapped into full 360 degrees, and immediately I saw a zombie lunging at me from my left. Someone screamed—I think it was Saya—but I barely registered it. My palm flicked out. The zombie dropped, stone dead.

I licked my lips, grin widening. "Let’s see what you’ve got for me, Hinata~."

I shifted into the Gentle Fist stance, balanced and poised, and let the undead swarm me. I didn’t run. I didn’t even flinch. I let the chaos collapse in on itself, and when I felt the time was right—when instinct screamed now—I exploded.

Palms struck with surgical precision. Heads snapped back. Limbs twisted, cracked, folded in unnatural directions. They came at me from the front, the back, the sides, and I flowed like water. Strike. Shift. Step. Strike again.

Someone behind me cried out, but I ignored it. The others were moving the supplies. That was their job. This—this was mine.

I felt alive. Too alive.

Every movement felt natural, as if I’d trained for years instead of seconds. Byakugan kept me aware of every angle, every threat. My body responded before my mind could even process the danger. It wasn’t just fun—it was exhilarating.

Of course, I’d have to explain myself later. Or not. I wasn’t technically lying about anything, after all. I never said where the powers came from, or how I suddenly knew how to murder a dozen zombies with gentle little pokes to the chest.

Right now, I was dancing through death, laughing softly as I moved.

Because for once, I wasn’t reacting. I was doing. Taking control. Protecting them the only way I knew how—violently and with flair.

Chapter Text

{???'s POV}

Taking care of an estate-turned-survivor camp was certainly more than just a hassle—it was a full-time, never-ending war against chaos. Herding desperate survivors with conflicting agendas, calming hot-headed idiots ready to kill each other over scraps, and punishing those who thought the rules didn’t apply to them had become my daily routine. It was exhausting. And yet, I did it. Because someone had to. Because no one else could. Because if I didn’t keep order, the whole place would fall apart faster than a rotting corpse under the summer sun.

Too many of them still couldn’t grasp the gravity of our situation. The world changed overnight—no warning, no mercy. Civilization didn’t crumble gradually. It was violently ripped apart. And yet, they acted like they were entitled to shelter, food, and safety. As if we owed them something. As if the estate wasn’t mine to begin with. They should be grateful I even let them in. But gratitude had become a rare commodity these days.

Thankfully, my men remained loyal. Fiercely so. Every one of them followed my orders without hesitation, without question. I made sure of it. Discipline wasn’t optional—it was survival. I trained them well, molded them into something this world needed: strength wrapped in obedience. Even when I had to kill Souichiro with my own hands, not one of them flinched. Not one dared raise a brow.

He should’ve known better. He never held the reins in our relationship—I did. Always had. The only reason I kept him around as long as I did was because of Saya and the pressure from my parents. Their threats, their ultimatums—they held weight back then. I stood to lose everything I worked for. But now? Now that the laws no longer meant a damn thing, now that society was a smoldering corpse? He had outlived his usefulness.

If only he’d stayed quiet.

But no. He had to challenge me. Had to open his mouth and question my authority in front of others. That was a line I couldn’t afford to let anyone cross. Not even him. He may have been a master of the blade, a warrior in his own right, but what was a katana to a bullet? Nothing. Just outdated pride wrapped in steel. I pulled the trigger. And that was that.

Even so, I do hope Saya’s alright. My little girl’s sharp—brilliant, even. But her mouth gets her in trouble. Always has. She speaks without thinking, challenges without understanding consequence. I wanted to send men after her when we got separated, but I had to think logically. Strategically. Resources were limited. I couldn’t risk losing more lives on a gamble, no matter how much it hurt. I could only pray that she had someone watching her back.

"Takagi-sama! Some of my men reported gunshots on the East perimeter!"

The shout pulled me from my thoughts. I turned sharply toward the source—one of my subordinates, face pale, panic bleeding into his voice. My eyes narrowed.

The East perimeter.

Shit.

It was our weakest defense. Nothing but hastily installed wire fences—enough to slow the dead, maybe, but not stop them if they came in force. And now there were gunshots? Noise? Someone was drawing attention. Someone was fucking up.

I stormed toward my car, keys already in hand. “Sachi! Have your unit follow me. Now!” I barked.

No time for delay. I gunned the engine and tore down the path toward the East perimeter, gravel spitting behind me in furious clouds. My fingers clenched the wheel tight, jaw set, every muscle coiled.

And then I saw them.

A massive horde of the undead, pressing hard against the wires, their grotesque forms pushing and twitching, drawn by the noise. Beyond them—three vehicles, poorly parked, hazard lights blinking in the growing dusk. Figures were moving between them, frantic, unloading gear.

Idiots. They should’ve abandoned everything and run.

But oddly enough, their insistence on gathering their belongings had delayed the breach. The flow of movement distracted the horde, created just enough noise to keep them from fully pressing the fence.

Still, it wouldn’t last. The dead were patient. Relentless.

I slammed the brakes and skidded the car to a halt, parallel to the wire fence. I yanked on my mask, jumped out, and rushed to the backseat to grab my portable water pump sprayer. Slinging it over my shoulders, I moved past the flimsy barrier, boots crunching over gravel and dirt.

I didn’t wait. I blasted the nearest group of zombies with a searing burst, watching as their flesh melted and bones cracked. The chemical cocktail inside the sprayer wasn’t subtle—it was brutal, efficient. Just the way I liked it.

“Keep your positions!” I barked over the chaos, trying to assess the situation while simultaneously carving a path through the shambling corpses.

And then I saw her.

A woman—short, green hair pulled into twin pigtails that swayed as she moved, skin tinged a strange bluish-green hue, adorned with vivid pink tattoos that glowed faintly under the dimming light. But it wasn’t her looks that stunned me.

It was what she was doing.

She didn’t have a weapon. Not one I could see. Yet she was decimating the undead with nothing but her bare hands. Her strikes were a blur—each movement precise, almost graceful, and impossibly fast. She struck one in the head with her palm, and the skull caved in like wet clay. Another she swept off its feet and crushed before it even hit the ground.

Corpses piled around her like discarded mannequins.

She moved with intent, with rhythm. As if the violence was a dance. As if she wasn’t just killing—she was performing. There was no wasted effort, but a grin kept itself on her face, savage and bloodthirsty. 

Then Sachi’s unit arrived, and the air filled with the hiss of their own sprayers, chemicals misting through the air, joining the fray.

"Shizuko-sensei! Look! We have help now!"

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

My eyes snapped toward the sound—and there she was.

Saya.

Pink hair catching the light, perched atop a Humvee like a queen surveying her battlefield, a shotgun held confidently in her hands. She looked tired, dirty, and more alive than I’d ever seen her.

I ripped off my mask. Her eyes locked with mine.

"Mommy!?"

Her voice cracked, filled with disbelief.

I smiled, warmth rising in my chest for the first time in days.

And then she did something entirely idiotic.

She jumped.

From the top of the Humvee.

Right into my arms.

I barely caught her, but I held her tight, pressing frantic kisses to her forehead as she sobbed against my chest. She clung to me, words tumbling out—how much she missed me, how she thought I was dead, how she was sorry.

"You’re safe now, baby girl," I whispered, brushing her hair back. “I’ve got you.”

But even as I held my daughter, my eyes drifted back to the green-skinned woman. She stood at the edge of the perimeter, still as a statue now, observing us with an unreadable expression.

"You fought well." I called out to her, keeping my tone measured.

She tilted her head. “Only did what made sense. Can’t let pretty people die when there’s work to be done.” Her voice was light, musical in tone—yet strangely precise. Every word deliberate. There was something… odd about the way she spoke. Not a lie, but not quite truth either.

She walked closer, unbothered by the blood soaking her arms, her eyes flicking from me to Saya.

"You’re the mother, huh? That tracks. Same kind of fire. Same sharpness in the eyes."

Saya blushed, burying her face onto my chest in embarrassment. Interesting.

The woman smiled faintly. “She’s a good kid. Bit mouthy. Got guts. But good.”

That made me pause. I nodded slowly. "I owe you, then."

"Nah. No debts here. Did what I could, and Saya really isn't that much of a problem, even if she could be a bit of a spitfire."

There was something whimsical in her phrasing, yet her eyes held a seriousness I couldn’t ignore. A weight. Like she saw more than she let on.

I extended a hand. "Yuriko Takagi. This is my estate."

She stared at my hand for a moment, then finally took it, her grip firm.

"Rebecca."

And just like that, we had an ally. Strange, dangerous, and entirely unpredictable—but in a world like this? That might just be exactly what we needed.

{Rebecca's POV}{18+}

I was bone-deep tired, the kind of exhaustion that dug its claws into every inch of my being. My body ached, my mind buzzed, and my Chakra reserves were running dangerously low. I had used up so much of it earlier, more than I should’ve, more than I really knew how to handle. Sure, I may have acquired Hinata’s powers in an instant, a little gift dropped in my lap like some cosmic joke, but making them mine? That was a whole other battle.

I still had to earn it. Mold it. Bend it until it fit me like a glove. Chakra use wasn’t second nature to me, not yet. Even with Hinata’s memories and instincts grafted onto mine, her methods felt distant, disconnected. Her flow was all grace, all restraint and precision. That just wasn’t me. Hinata was soft in her demeanor, her movements, her damn essence. Even her deadliest blows were beautiful. Deadly, yes—but beautiful.

But I’m not beautiful. I’m chaos wrapped in sexy, green flesh. I don’t fight to incapacitate; I fight to destroy. I wanted to crack bones and splatter blood, to tear through threats like a cyclone with no remorse. [Martial Talent] helped bridge the gap, sure—it let me adopt Hinata’s form and flow with almost eerie ease—but it couldn’t change the core of who I was. I had to twist her fighting style into something sharper, harder. Something... mine.

But that was for later. Right now? Right now I needed rest.

The water of the bathtub embraced me like a long-lost lover, and I sighed as I let myself sink into it. Limbs floating, sore muscles slowly relaxing, I let my head loll back. "Ugh. That's the life." I muttered, shifting lazily. The heat soaked through my skin, pulling away tension, making me feel alive again.

The calm didn’t last.

The creak of the door didn’t surprise me. I knew who it was the moment I heard it. After the chaos with the zombie horde, Yuriko-san had given me a room with a private bath. It was a luxury, honestly. The catch? I had to share the room with Rei. But that wasn’t a problem. Not even close.

"Mind if I join you?" Rei’s voice was casual, but there was a glint in her eyes that betrayed her intentions. She was already naked, already stepping into the room, steam clinging to her skin. She didn’t bother with modesty. She never did when it came to women. And when I looked at her, at the obvious, throbbing proof of what she came here for, I only smirked.

"Nope," I said easily. "The bath’s big enough for the two of us."

That was all the invitation she needed. She slid in beside me, and I shivered despite the heat of the water as her skin pressed against mine. She let out a long, satisfied sigh, resting her head against my shoulder.

"Ahh~. After a day like today, we really needed this." she murmured.

I smiled, letting the silence stretch between us for a beat. It wasn’t awkward. It was... charged. Heavy. Warm.

Then she spoke again, voice softer this time. "You worried me, Rebecca. When you jumped into that horde like that... I thought I lost you."

Her hand found mine, guiding it gently to her chest. I felt the steady thump of her heartbeat—quickened, vulnerable. Human.

"We haven’t known each other long," she continued, her eyes cast down. "Barely three days. But something about you... I can’t explain it. After what happened yesterday, I kept thinking about it. You taking control. Telling me what to do. Protecting me. Making choices for both of us."

I listened. I didn’t interrupt. Not once. Her heart beat faster beneath my palm.

"I thought I wouldn’t get the chance to explore this thing between us," she said. "So... please, Rebecca. In case anything happens. Can you... can you just tell me what to do?"

The way she looked up at me then—wide-eyed, hopeful, needing—it sparked something deep in my chest. Something possessive. Fierce. Tender.

Grinning, I leaned closer, my voice dripping with command. "Then sit on the rim, puppy~. Let me take care of you~."

Her breath hitched. Her body trembled in anticipation. And she obeyed.

Unabashedly, Rei shifted to the edge of the tub, her thick, twitching cock proudly displayed. She wanted to be seen. Owned. Loved. I knelt before her, water splashing softly with the motion, and let my gaze linger on her. The veins. The heat. The way she pulsed for me.

Before I did anything, I looked up at her. "To be clear, pet," I purred, "this isn’t out of fear. Not of the future, not of loss. I’m doing this because I care. Because I fucking meant it when I said I’d protect you."

I kissed the tip of her cock, smiling as her hips jerked. Then I licked—slow, experimental. Salty, warm, oddly addicting. She moaned, one hand trembling as it hovered near my head.

"Now," I whispered, licking my lips, "be a good girl, puppy~. Just cum whenever you want~."

Then I took her into my mouth, inch by careful inch. I wasn’t a stranger to this, sucking phallic objects, but there was always something different about the real thing. Something heavier. Hotter. Messier. I used [Sticky Fingers] to guide my rhythm, mapping her responses, adjusting my approach like an artist perfecting their brush strokes.

When I finally took her full length—every thick, twitching inch—my throat tightened around her, and she moaned, loud and honest. I hummed in satisfaction, only for Rei to cry out and clutch my head like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Her climax hit fast, hard. I drank her down without pause, not letting a single drop go to waste. When I finally pulled back, I let her taste linger on my tongue before swallowing.

"Delicious~." I murmured, letting the truth roll off my lips. Not the best I’ve had, but still genuinely good.

Rei wasn’t down for long. Her cock twitched, then hardened once again, much to my delight. I turned around and braced myself on the tub's rim, my ass raised invitingly.

"Come now, puppy~. One shot can’t be all you’ve got. C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me like the dog you are~."

She didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl, she moved behind me, gripping my hips tight. I glanced back, grinning.

"That’s right, my beautiful little mutt~. Fuck your mistress’s pussy~. You’ve earned it."

And she did. One deep, punishing thrust, and she filled me instantly, her cum spilling into me with a heat that made me moan. I laughed softly—she’d cum just from entering me.

Still, she wasn’t finished.

I grinned wider, voice like silk and fire. "Puppy~? What did I say~? Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard~."

And fuck me she did. She pounded into me with reckless devotion, moaning with every thrust, every squeeze of my slick walls. It wasn’t just fucking—it was worship. It was desperate, needy love expressed through raw, physical connection.

By her fourth orgasm, I finally came too, body clenching, breath catching in my throat.

"Ufff~! Fuck~! That’s it, baby. That’s it~."

She followed every command I gave her. I told her where to aim, how deep to go, what angle would make me scream. For hours, we didn’t stop. The bathroom echoed with our cries, with wet slaps and breathless gasps, with whispered declarations and animalistic groans.

We painted every inch of that space with our shared ecstasy.

By the time Rei collapsed, her body trembling from her 52nd orgasm—I was pretty sure that was the count—I was still ready for more. [Sexual Calibration] was honestly fucking busted. But I didn’t push. I cradled her instead.

I cleaned her gently, whispering soft nothings as I wiped down her tired body. I did the same for myself, then carried us both to the bed. We didn’t need clothes. Just each other. I pulled the covers over us and kissed her forehead tenderly.

"I love you, puppy~." I whispered, the words glowing with that fae-glimmer of absolute truth.

"I love you too, mistress." she replied, voice small and soft.

And just like that, she was [Captured]. Truly, completely mine.

As I watched the womb tattoo shimmer into existence, I felt a quiet satisfaction settle deep in my soul. No [Binding]. No tricks. Just trust. Love. Obedience.

Yes. I would take care of my beautiful little puppy. Always.

Yesterday, I tore through close to 200 zombies in just a few short hours. It wasn’t a leisurely spree either—it was efficient, brutal, and purposeful. By the end of it, I’d racked up a solid [80 Credits], which I put to use the moment I could. No hesitation.

First thing I bought was [Soul Talent], followed by [Administrative Talent]. The former was all about refining my Chakra handling—it’s not like I’m some monk, but better control means better efficiency, better focus. It also lets me feel more in sync with myself and the chaos around me. As for [Administrative Talent]? That one’s a long game. It’ll pay off once I [Capture] Yuriko and slide into her seat of power. See, the [Mission] didn’t say anything about needing to build my own base from scratch. It never said I couldn’t take over something that already existed, and Yuriko’s little empire is already nicely put together.

With those out of the way, I snagged [Exit Stage Left] and [Pursued by Bear]—both good to get off my checklist. They’re niche, yeah, but they’ll help me avoid headaches later on. It’s always best to cover the weird angles early.

Today dawned on a new stretch of concrete, blood, and sky—another day in this apocalypse-shaped hell. And right off the bat, we had things to deal with. The pressing one being Yuriko. Coordination was necessary now that we were staying under her roof. But there was something... off. For some reason, Souichiro was dead. Not exactly expected. No one could tell me how or why, and while it wasn't my mess, it became relevant pretty damn quick. I suspect [Universal Calibration I] had a hand in that. The timing lined up too perfectly.

Anyway, with Yuriko now firmly holding the reins at the Takagi estate, I was able to approach her without too much fanfare. The gates were open to me, literally and metaphorically.

“Truly, thank you for contributing your supplies with us, Rebecca-san.” Yuriko said as she dipped her head. She was polite, poised, still playing the part of the regal matriarch. That bow of hers? Not the first time I’d seen it.

After we returned from clearing out the surrounding horde, thinning their numbers down to almost nothing, Yuriko had thanked me repeatedly—too many times to count, actually. Her gratitude centered mostly around Saya. For keeping her safe. For getting her back home in one piece. I didn’t do it for thanks, but I didn’t wave it away either.

“As I said before, Yuriko-san, we’re guests under your roof now. It only makes sense to contribute in return.” I replied, tone easy, expression soft but honest. My words, as always, came wrapped in their truth—undeniable, unwavering. I wasn’t giving away our supplies out of some guilt trip or bleeding heart. It was a trade. A roof, walls, real security in exchange for canned beans and ammo? Fair deal in my book.

Plus, she let us keep our guns. And the Humvee. That counted for something.

“If that’s the case, then let’s get down to business, shall we?”

She straightened, her warm demeanor cooling into something sharper, more composed. I gave a slight nod, arms crossing lazily in front of my chest. I was the only one from our group at the meeting—it was just me and her. Somewhere along the ride to this estate, I’d become the leader. No ceremony, no formal vote. Just a shift. Komuro faded, and I stepped in. It happened without me even noticing until I looked around and they were all following my lead.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” Yuriko continued, voice calm but serious, “and I must admit that we need your strength.”

I didn't mind the praise. It was genuine, coming from someone outside the circle of chaos I usually ran with. And it was Yuriko saying it—the woman I planned to [Capture]. Her recognition only added to the texture of what was to come.

“I’ve also spoken to my men,” she said, continuing, “and they agree. Your skills are… indispensable.”

I let my silence carry weight. Her men had seen me in action. They knew I wasn’t just a loose cannon with a bloodlust problem—I was precise, strategic, devastating. They also knew better than to question Yuriko’s judgment. The loyalty they had for her was bone-deep. Which meant they wouldn’t challenge me unless she gave the word.

She stepped closer to a map spread across the estate’s war table. Markers denoted known supply routes, current threats, and potential choke points.

“We’re doing fairly well with food and water,” she admitted, “but with the number of people here, those resources won’t last forever. We’ll begin to feel the strain in another week, maybe two.”

I could see where this was going, but I kept my mouth shut. Let her pitch it.

“So, in exchange for certain privileges, I’d like to ask you to handle supply runs for us. Your team is more capable than any of the estate’s guards, and you already have transportation.”

Crossing my arms, I tilted my head, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her second guess herself. Her fingers twitched slightly—a tell. She was nervous.

“What would these privileges entail, Yuriko-san?” I asked finally, keeping my voice neutral, like I hadn’t already made up my mind before she even finished.

“We’ll continue to let you and your group have private rooms. You’ll also receive first pick of food and water allocations. Additionally, we can provide you with ammunition, weapons, and vehicle access as needed.”

I nodded slowly, eyes never leaving hers. She wasn’t lying. Every word was a fair offer. Fair enough, at least.

She didn’t expect me to agree so easily. That much was obvious in the way her lips parted slightly in surprise.

“Very well,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “If you want, we can even head out today. Best not to let good food go to waste.”

Yuriko’s relief came in the form of a smile—not soft or weak, but firm, like she’d just sealed a meaningful deal.

Inside, I was already outlining how I’d [Capture] her. The woman was serious about her role, sure. She commanded authority like she was born into it. But she also had a very visible soft spot for children, and by extension, those who protected them. That gave me an angle.

Buying [Arlo] had been a good move. I didn’t fully understand all the applications at the time, but now? It was clear as day.

As I moved from the room back into the halls of the estate, my boots clicking against polished floors that had no right being this clean, I thought about what I’d say to the others. They wouldn’t argue with me, not anymore. Even Hirano, who used to defer to Komuro, now looked to me for next steps.

Saya had grown quieter around me, more focused, more aware. Maybe it was the stress. Or maybe she was starting to recognize the shape of things too.

Outside, the grounds buzzed with muted energy. People training. Guard rotations being called. It was a well-oiled machine—but machines can be redirected.

I paused near the entrance gate, looking out into the distance. The next run would be dangerous, sure, but necessary. It would let me stretch my legs, shake the rust, and take further stock of the estate’s capabilities. Plus, the more I did, the more Yuriko would come to rely on me.

And when the moment came, she wouldn’t resist. Not really. Not after everything I’d done.

She'd see it not as a takeover, but as a transition. A logical one.

That’s how I win.

I didn’t need to force anyone. I just had to be too good to refuse.

With the wind brushing across my face and the smell of oil and steel in the air, I felt more at home than I had in weeks. My hands twitched slightly, aching to hold a weapon again.

It was going to be a long day.

But it was going to be my day.

The next step of the [Mission] was clear—and Yuriko Takagi wouldn’t see it coming until she was already mine.

I turned back toward the estate, ponytails bouncing, tattoos glowing faintly under the light.

“Let’s go hunt.”

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

A few days had turned into a full week, and in that time, we managed to get a hell of a lot done for Yuriko. When I first brought up the work she wanted us to do, the group was—understandably—pretty damn hesitant. Except for Saeko and Rei, of course. Those two were all in, barely needed convincing. Saya, on the other hand, was livid at first. Her eyes flared with rage, practically sparking as she ranted about how her own mother dared to make us work in exchange for proper beds, while the rest of the survivors got tents. I understood her frustration, really. But I had to get her to see the bigger picture.

“If your mother shows us special treatment just because we’re her daughter’s friends, the others will cry bloody murder.” I told her calmly, my tone even, matter-of-fact. Saya hated it, sure, but she understood in the end. Begrudgingly. Progress.

Naturally, Yuki, Momo, and Fumiko opted out of the running gigs. Not everyone is made to crack zombie skulls with a bat or cleave them in two with a katana. And I respected that. They stayed back, did what they could around the estate. Laundry. Cooking. Whatever needed doing. Everyone had a role. Everyone played their part.

It took a little longer to convince Komuro and Hirano, but I got there. With Saya, Kyoko, and Shizuka, I didn’t even need to try. They were already on board, perhaps not fully aware of what they were agreeing to, but I didn’t mislead them. I just told the truth the right way.

We started running scavenger missions, focusing on perishables first. Every trip out meant another dive into broken-down homes, looted convenience stores, gas stations half swallowed by ivy and rot. Sometimes we came back empty-handed. Sometimes not. But within that first week, it became common knowledge among the survivors that we were the ones bringing in food, water, medicine—everything of value.

Naturally, people started sucking up to us. It was almost funny. That sudden shift in behavior. Desperation wore many masks, but most of them looked pathetic. When someone got too friendly, too hopeful, it was easy to just say, “Fuck off.” and keep walking. Clarity was a kindness, after all.

By then, I’d completed two [Optional Objectives]: the last repeatable [Kill 100 Zombies] one, and another for keeping my waifu alive for seven days. A milestone, I guess. Though it felt more like maintenance than achievement.

Speaking of waifus, I finally had the talk with Rei. Told her the truth about where I came from, or at least, enough of it to not violate the pact. Her face turned pale at first. It scared her. Of course it did. Who wouldn't be? But she got over it, surprisingly fast. That fear didn’t linger long. She saw me—really saw me. And she stayed.

But it wasn’t just Rei. I made a point to deepen my bonds with the rest too: Kyoko, Saeko, Saya, Shizuka, and even Yuriko. Slowly. Carefully. A few nudges, some shared laughter, brushing hands in passing, quiet moments just long enough to matter. I didn’t hide my relationship with Rei either. That would've been dishonest. Komuro was gutted, sure, but we were close enough for him to take the hit and not crumble. It stung, but he still had my back.

The rest? Surprised, mostly. Shocked when I didn’t stop myself from showing Rei affection in quiet little ways: fingers entwined when we thought no one was looking, lips brushing her temple after a run. No one told me to stop. I think they knew they couldn’t. It was the apocalypse. Things didn’t work the same anymore.

Besides, Rei wasn’t jealous. She understood. Somehow, that made it easier.

“How are things looking?” Komuro asked one afternoon, stretched across the top of the Humvee like a lazy housecat, his voice casual.

Kyoko answered with an irritated grunt, wiping sweat from her brow as she checked the gauge. “Tch. We’re gonna have to stop by a gas station or siphon off from another car again.”

I chuckled, my fingers dancing along the curve of her shoulder, light and teasing. She shivered under my touch. “It’s a pain, yeah, but unless we want to push the Humvee back to the estate again...”

“That was one time.” Kyoko snapped, flushing, looking anywhere but my eyes.

“And a memorable one.” I added with a grin.

Kyoko had changed a lot in just a week. Gone was the frightened teacher. What stood beside me now was a woman who could handle herself, sweaty and annoyed but capable. She still had her starry-eyed admiration for me, though. I used it. Of course I did. I didn’t lie, but I knew how to tilt truths.

My gaze drifted to Saya, who sat off to the side, nursing her sprained ankle. I knelt beside her, letting my hand brush gently against her skin.

“You doing alright?” I asked.

Her cheeks turned pink. “Yeah. It should be fine once we get back.”

I smiled, brushing a thumb over her ankle. Saya had grown. She used to be paralyzed by fear. Now? She still flinched, but she kept moving forward. That was enough.

I turned to Saeko, her katana resting against her shoulder.

“And you?”

Her lips curled slightly. “Never better, Rebecca.”

Our eyes locked, and the air thickened. It lingered between us—hot, electric, and heavy. We needed to fuck. It was as simple as that. The tension was unbearable. But other than that first time, before I got [Universal Calibration I], we hadn’t had a chance. That didn’t stop our bond from deepening. Saeko had mellowed out a bit. Less bloodthirsty, more focused. Alice helped with that.

Speaking of Alice, she never came on our runs. Too dangerous. Yuriko insisted she stay at the estate, and I agreed. That part was easy. Yuriko didn’t ask for anything in return. She just wanted Alice safe.

The kid had wormed her way into everyone’s heart. She became our little sister, my daughter. She called me "Mama" once by accident, and that was it. My heart folded. I couldn’t correct her. Wouldn’t.

[Arlo] worked better now, more intuitive. More precise. It helped me a lot, especially with seducing Yuriko. That woman... she wore professionalism like armor, but Alice broke through it. Whenever she was around, Yuriko turned soft, maternal. It made things easier. It brought us closer.

Shizuka, meanwhile, didn’t join many runs. She stayed back, tending to the wounded, studying herbs, rationing meds. People depended on her. She was invaluable. But that didn’t stop me from teasing her, tempting her. Whenever I had a moment, I’d visit her. I’d offer a massage, using [Sticky Fingers] to make sure she felt every inch of attention. After a few sessions, she stopped caring whether we were clothed or not. My hands wandered. Her moans said enough.

Even now, whenever I caught her eye from across the courtyard, her lips would part slightly, remembering. Waiting.

The sexual tension in this group was practically a second atmosphere. Saya’s long glances, the way she bit her lip when I passed. Kyoko’s blush whenever I touched her. Rei’s sighs when I whispered into her ear. Saeko’s stormy gaze. Shizuka’s flushed skin under my fingers. Yuriko’s steely restraint, bending slowly, deliberately.

None of it escaped me.

None of it was accidental.

I didn’t lie. I didn’t manipulate. I just revealed pieces. Enough to pull. Enough to make them want more. And in this broken world, where death could be just around the corner, they clung to what they felt. And I let them.

Because I felt it too.

All in all, it was a productive fucking week. We lived. We bonded. We fought. We seduced. We survived.

{Saeko's POV}{18+}

This was it. My chance. My heart raced like a drumbeat in my chest, my breath shallow and ragged. A whole week had passed since Rebecca and I had jacked each other off in the chaos of a moment we weren’t ready to fully name. Ever since then, I had been wound so tight with need and frustration that I could barely focus. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her—felt her. My nights were long, restless. My body ached, not just for release, but for her. She promised she’d finish what she started. She fucking promised. But life got in the way. It always fucking did.

And then, like a slap in the face, Rebecca got with Rei.

I wasn’t mad—well, not about that. I didn’t care that Rebecca had more than one woman. That wasn’t the issue. I understood her enough to know she didn’t see love as something that needed to be confined. And hell, neither did I. But what did matter was that she hadn’t touched me since, hadn’t fucked me since. And I was going fucking crazy because of it.

Thank the gods—or maybe curse them—that Rei noticed. Whether it was out of kindness or cruelty, she looked at me with those perceptive eyes of hers and said I could have Rebecca for the night. Her voice had been light, teasing, but the way she stepped aside was anything but joking. I don’t know if it was pity, permission, or some fucked-up challenge. But I didn’t care. I needed her. I needed Rebecca.

Entering their room, my pulse quickened. The air smelled like sweat, metal, and a faint undertone of perfume—Rebecca’s. There she was, in her usual spot, cross-legged on the futon, meditating. It had become routine. Ever since that moment when she revealed that terrifyingly beautiful power in a fight, she took time like this—to center herself, she claimed. When she meditated, she disappeared inside herself. I knew this state well. Her body remained, but her awareness floated somewhere else entirely, unreachable unless you shook her from it.

And I was going to do just that.

The door clicked shut behind me, the sound final, like sealing away the rest of the world. I disrobed with slow, deliberate movements, my cock already hard—aching. The chill of the room kissed my skin, and yet I was burning from within. My gaze dropped to Rebecca, seated there in her usual minimalist gear: a sports bra that clung to her chest like a second skin, tiny black booty shorts that hugged her plump ass, and a puffy jacket draped around her arms, offering no protection, no warmth, just style. Goddess, she was art. How she carried so much power, so much allure in such a small body was beyond me. Those massive tits, that thick ass—none of it made sense on someone so short, so slight. But it didn’t matter. She was perfect. She was mine.

Licking my lips, I took a step closer, cock in hand. Mischief coiled in my gut. I knew she wouldn’t notice me unless I made it undeniable. So I aimed the head of my cock toward her parted lips, gently brushing it along her mouth, shuddering at the contact. Her lips were soft, impossibly plush. Still, she didn’t move.

I pushed forward slightly, the tip slipping in.

That’s when her eyes snapped open, vivid and knowing, like she’d been aware the whole time. For a split second, we just stared at each other. A breathless beat. Then, a smirk curved her lips—the kind of smirk that promised everything.

She didn’t speak. She just opened her mouth wider and took me in—all of me, with shocking ease. Her tongue curled around my shaft, her throat relaxing like it was molded to my shape. I gasped.

"Fuck!" I couldn’t help it. The raw pleasure was too much. This was my first blowjob, and it was already more than I imagined. Her lips sealed tight, and she started bobbing her head, slow and sensual at first. I couldn’t stay passive—I reached down, gripped her pigtails, and began thrusting into her mouth with greedy desperation.

She moaned around me, and the vibrations nearly undid me. The way her throat clenched, the way her tongue moved—I was losing control. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I moaned, each thrust making wet, filthy sounds echo in the room. I came fast. Too fast. I couldn’t help it—her mouth was divine, her skill unmatched.

But she didn’t stop.

Even as I cried out, twitching, my orgasm dragging on like a cruel joke, Rebecca kept going. Her eyes locked onto mine, lips tight around me, not a drop escaping. Her throat worked expertly until I was emptied and shaking. When she finally pulled off me with a loud, wet pop, she opened her mouth to show it—clean, not a trace of cum.

"Well, isn’t this a surprise~." she purred, her voice lilting, almost too knowing.

I froze. The way she said it—it wasn’t surprise at all. That tone, that look.

"Rei told you." I said, breathless.

She only smiled, her eyes glittering with something secret. "She may have let slip your intentions. I did promise to finish what I started, didn’t I? And I’ve kept you waiting for far too long."

Rebecca stood, fluid and unhurried, her every movement magnetic. She climbed onto the bed, her eyes locked on mine, never breaking contact. She laid back, legs up, arms spreading her glistening pussy wide.

"Come on then," she whispered. "Why don’t you fuck me, baby~? Fuck me with all that pent-up lust and aggression."

My control snapped.

With a growl, I was on her, body pressed flush to hers, arms bracketing her head. My cock slid into her easily, welcomed by her wetness, and I gasped as I hilted inside. I didn’t even last a few seconds before I came again, the heat of her body too much to bear.

But that didn’t stop me.

I fucked her relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, punctuated by gasps, moans, and grunts. Rebecca met every thrust, her walls clenching around me, her body singing in harmony with mine. Our breasts pressed together, her tongue sliding into my mouth, her hands gripping my back.

We moved like animals. No—like lovers starved for touch, desperate and needy. She kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered. I kissed her back because I believed it.

Time dissolved. We switched positions—her riding me, me bending her over, us lying sideways tangled in each other. Every new angle brought fresh pleasure. She grinned through her moans, her face flushed, and every time she gasped my name, it sent lightning down my spine.

"Rebecca… gods, you feel so fucking good." I whispered, panting.

She only smiled. "I’d be a fool to deny what’s always been yours."

And maybe that was the moment I realized I wasn’t just chasing release. I was chasing her. Every stroke of our bodies, every whispered word, built into something greater. Something real.

"I love you." I whispered, shocked by the weight of the truth.

Rebecca didn’t hesitate.

"I love you too."

The words landed like a balm, like fire, like salvation. And I kept fucking her—harder, slower, deeper. Until there was nothing left but us. Just us.

Even after I was spent, Rebecca wasn’t. She cradled me gently, her arms strong yet tender. She kissed my forehead, brushed sweat-soaked hair from my eyes, and held me close. We laid there, bodies tangled, slick with sweat, cum, and the aftermath of everything we shared.

My eyes grew heavy. I didn’t want to sleep, not really. I wanted to stay in this moment. But sleep came anyway. Wrapped in her warmth, I drifted off.

I was content.

I was fucking happy.

Rebecca was everything.

And I wasn’t letting her go.

{Saya's POV}

Life was... relatively peaceful.

Sure, there was the whole zombie apocalypse raging outside our fortified walls, but we were honestly living rather well considering the state of the world. The estate—our estate—was well defended. Thick concrete walls stretched kilometers in every cardinal direction, with the gaps filled in with cars and wired fences, reinforced and patrolled. Guard towers marked each corner, and every inch of the perimeter was either monitored or trapped. Inside, we’d begun building something close to a functioning society. Gardens lined the southern quadrant, tended to by those with a knack for horticulture. A makeshift irrigation system brought clean water through aqueducts we'd constructed with scavenged pipes, and the renewable water source we'd secured early on kept things flowing.

Electricity was the only real issue. Eventually, we'd run out, we knew that. The generators chugged along now, but fuel wasn’t infinite. Thankfully, a number of the civilians my mother had rescued turned out to be electricians, tinkerers, and engineers. They had started planning out a more permanent solution. A water wheel was their crown jewel, the most ambitious idea to date, though others pushed for bicycle generators and thermoelectric systems. The former required people to keep pedaling, and the latter had laughably low output, but they were easy to make and didn’t take much in the way of resources.

Food and water weren’t a problem—yet. Our scavenging teams still brought in supplies when they could, and until the farms began producing in full, we supplemented our stocks with canned goods and preserved items. We were making it work.

Honestly, I never thought this would be my life. I used to imagine something more dignified—becoming a scientist, maybe a CEO, or even a politician. My intellect demanded that kind of prestige. I had always believed that I'd be at the top of society, not crouching behind barricades with a crowbar in one hand and a pistol in the other. But here I am. Fighting zombies. Killing to live. Learning to survive.

The first time I killed one of them, I froze. I still remember the feel of the saw in my hands, the way its rotted jaw snapped toward me, the stink of death clinging to its skin. When its skull was rendered null under my swing, I vomited. I cried. But I adapted. I had to. The world had shifted on its axis, and I had no choice but to shift with it.

The only reason I didn’t break? My friends. They stayed by me, every step of the way. We supported each other, lifted each other when things got heavy. I treated them like sisters, maybe even more than that. And Takeshi and Kohta? They were still close to me, still my friends, but something had changed. There was a distance. Not hostility—just... an invisible gap I couldn't bridge. I suppose my heart was busy elsewhere.

Speaking of Takeshi, whatever feelings I once had for him—they were gone. Not because of anything he did. He was still the same dependable, brave soul he always was. If anything, I admired him even more now. But the heart is a fickle thing. And mine?

Mine beats for someone else now.

Rebecca.

I never expected to fall for her, much less realize she existed before all this. Short, green-haired, blue-ish green-tinged skin with those wild pink tattoos—she looked like something from a punk rock fever dream. A chaotic gremlin, she called herself. And gods, was she ever.

We clashed hard in the beginning. Her loudness grated on me. Her impulsive behavior had me constantly on edge. Where I was calm and methodical, she was rash and reckless. Where I was academic, she was intuitive. Where I hesitated, she charged forward with a grin so damn infectious it made my knees weak.

But it grew on me. No, I grew into it.

I fell. Hard. For her sarcasm, her unpredictability, her unwavering loyalty. For the way she laughed in the face of danger, for the way she always knew when I needed someone. She saved me more times than I could count, sometimes with bullets, sometimes with words. When nightmares clawed into my sleep, she was there. Always. As if summoned. No knock, no hesitation—she’d barge in, arms open. And I’d melt into her. I think... I think I was already in love before I even realized it.

But she wasn’t mine.

She and Rei had been together for a week before I found out. It stung. Not gonna lie. Watching the way Rebecca looked at her, the way she touched her—gentle, but charged—it was like watching a dream become someone else’s. Yet, surprisingly, it didn’t crush me. Maybe because it never felt like Rebecca belonged to anyone. Maybe because she didn’t act like Rei was her only.

She flirted. With all of us. With me. With Saeko. With Shizuka, Kyoko, even... my mother.

And the crazy part? Rei didn’t mind. I asked her. Just once. One late night on the rooftop, the stars barely visible through the clouds. She’d smiled, soft and sure, and said, "As long as she loves me, she can love others too. Rebecca has a big heart. I won’t be the one to shrink it."

That changed everything.

Because Saeko had joined them. Just like that. And no one was angry. No one was jealous. Rei and Saeko—gods, they had grown closer. Watching them move around Rebecca, their touches, their glances—it was like watching a dance I wasn’t invited to. Yet.

And it gave me hope.

Because I wasn’t the only one. Shizuka and Kyoko had feelings for her too. We all saw it. The way they lit up around her, the way their gazes lingered a little too long. And one evening, all of us—me, Shizuka, Kyoko—sat down and talked. No fights. No drama. Just quiet understanding. We loved her. And we didn’t want to hurt each other over it.

So we agreed.

We’d let Rebecca have all of us, if she wanted us.

It was freeing, in a way. Like untying a knot inside my chest. I didn’t want to fight my sisters—not when we might all become something more. Something bigger. We were a strange family, and the world was cruel, but in that madness, we found comfort. We found Rebecca.

Though, I can’t lie—my mother? Yuriko? She was a complication.

Rebecca had been... courting her. In her own way. Subtle wasn’t Rebecca’s strong suit, but with mommy, she tried. She was smoother, slower, but still teasing. And it was working. I’d catch mommy laughing at her jokes, brushing her hair behind her ear when Rebecca entered the room. I should have been weirded out. I should have said something. But all I could think was—maybe mom needs love too. Ever since dad died, she’d been closed off. Steel-hearted. And Rebecca? She cracked through that like a hammer to glass.

So, I teased her. Gently. Casually. Just enough to see her squirm. Just enough to make her consider it. And the things she did when flustered? Hilarious. Precious.

I hope she accepts Rebecca. Goddess knows she deserves someone wild and warm. Someone who can pull her back to life.

Rebecca was never just a girl. She was a storm. And we? We were all drawn into her orbit. She made us feel alive in a world built on death.

There’s tension—god, there’s so much tension. Between Rebecca and Rei, there's this simmering fire, a constant heat beneath everything they do. With Saeko, it’s more primal, more instinctual—glances that linger just a beat too long, quiet touches when they think no one's watching. With Shizuka, it’s playful, teasing, dripping in double entendre. Kyoko’s different. With her, it's slow-burning, smoldering—eyes meeting across a room, barely brushing fingers, long stares that say everything.

And with me? It’s electric.

Every time she touches me, even in passing, it lingers. She speaks to me like every word is chosen with care, as if her tongue dances between truth and mischief. Her eyes—those crazy, mismatched eyes—light up when she talks to me, like I'm her favorite puzzle. When she leans in close to whisper something, her breath on my ear sends shivers down my spine.

And the worst part?

She knows.

She knows what she does to me. To all of us. And still, she never lies. There’s something about her honesty that makes everything feel more real. She tells us we’re beautiful. That she wants us. That she loves us, each in our own way. And we believe her. Because it’s true. Because she can’t say anything but the truth, I've come to realize. Rebecca has never lied to us, not once, and I love her for that.

I don’t know what’s coming. The world is still burning. The dead still roam outside our walls. But when I wake up and see her grinning at me, when I hear her laugh echoing through the estate, when I feel her arms around me during my darkest nights—I know one thing for sure.

Yeah, life may have gone straight to hell...

But somehow, mine?

Mine’s gotten better. Infinitely so.

Chapter Text

{???’s POV}

It’s been a week and some change since the world went to hell. And I mean hell. Shit had spiraled from bad to worse in record time. Cities fell like dominoes, one after the other, and the sky never seemed clear of smoke anymore. Nuclear firestorms lit up across the globe like twisted fireworks, and for once, the U.S. couldn't keep other countries from pulling the trigger. So yeah, a lot of places are probably just radioactive craters now. And even though Japan somehow slipped through the cracks, I can't exactly say I'm lucky.

Because I'm still alive. Alone.

Our little base didn't hold. Despite our best efforts, we couldn't secure the location. No backup. No SDF. No police. No goddamn cavalry. We were left to fend for ourselves. Eventually, the barricades were breached. One by one, my people fell. Good people. Brave people. Some military. Some police. All mine. They gave their lives trying to keep me alive, and I'll be damned if I let their deaths be meaningless.

I carry their memory like a goddamn weight on my chest. The soldiers, I kept their dog tags close, tucked away in a pouch by my side. As for the cops? I memorized their names. Carved them into my thoughts so they wouldn't fade. If I ever find their families, somehow, somewhere, I’ll make sure they know just how much their loved ones fought for the living. I owe them that much.

Now? I keep my steps light, sticking close to the walls as I move down the edge of the street. Always ready to bolt. The undead might be dumb, blind, and idle... but the second they hear anything? They stir. And when they stir, you better hope to hell you're not the nearest warm body.

Still, I had no choice. I had to take the risk. I had a destination in mind.

The Takagi Estate.

Yuriko Takagi had managed to hijack a local channel a few days ago, declaring her family estate a safe haven. It might’ve been a trap, or a false hope, but it was the only hope I had. And I wasn't just going there for safety. No. I was going there for her.

Shizuko.

The moment I failed my mission, the moment I realized I wouldn't be able to hold the base... I ran to her school first. It was swarming with undead, completely overrun. Not a single survivor in sight. My stomach sank with dread. But still, I didn’t give up. I headed back to my apartment, praying to any god left that Shizuko had made it there.

She hadn't. But she'd been there.

A note, written in her handwriting, left for me. "Takagi Estate." Just those two words, but they carried everything I needed to keep going. I clutched it like it was a lifeline. It might as well have been.

Still, the place had been looted. My booze and cigarettes? Gone. Not surprising. She drank, sure, but never smoked. Either some looters came through and took whatever they could, or she had other people with her. Honestly, I hoped for the latter. I could forgive them for the booze if they kept her safe.

Hell, they even took my Humvee. And while I should’ve been pissed about that, I wasn’t. Not really. If they used it to get her somewhere safe? So be it. Worth the damn gas.

Now, I’m just a few kilometers out from the estate. I'd crossed the bridge, still intact, thank God, and was creeping through a suburb when I heard something drop nearby. My body froze. I was ready to run, knife in hand. But the zombies didn’t rise. They just twitched. My heart calmed, just a bit.

That calm didn’t last long.

The rumble of engines shattered the stillness. Vehicles.

"Fuck!" I hissed. The sound had already stirred the horde.

No use being quiet now. If the bastards in those cars were gonna draw attention, they could damn well save me, too. I kicked the nearest zombie in the kneecap, sent it toppling, and sprinted toward the approaching noise. Gunshots echoed in the distance, not from me this time. The whole street lit up with movement. The undead woke up pissed.

One reached for me—I ducked, slicing through its skull with my dagger. Another came from the right, mouth gaping, but I dodged and kept running, weaving through the swarm.

I burst through the intersection, just as a vehicle screeched to a halt in front of me. A fucking Humvee. My Humvee.

I nearly got run over by my own damn car.

Before I could scream, or cuss, or do anything, the top hatch flipped open, and something leapt out. I couldn’t see what it was, not clearly, but then the side door slammed open.

"Get in!" a voice called—a woman's. Pink hair. Sharp eyes.

I didn’t hesitate. I threw myself inside. She yanked the door shut just as the Humvee jolted forward again.

"She’s in! Come back!" she shouted to someone outside.

The vehicle sped off, barely giving me time to catch my breath. And then, from the hatch, something... or someone... dropped inside.

I reached for my blade instinctively. Her skin was... off. Blue-ish green. Pale, almost sickly. Tattoos running along her arms in pink swirls. Looked like a corpse at first glance.

"You got lucky," she said, voice casual as hell, like we weren’t surrounded by fucking death. "If Kyoko wasn't paying attention, she might’ve thought you were one of them. Woulda run your ass over."

I stared at her. She wasn’t a zombie. A woman. Short. Wild green hair in twin ponytails. Eyes like neon signs. Still, something about her felt off.

She noticed the stare.

"Yeah, yeah. It’s a tattoo. That answer your question?" she quipped, shrugging like she’d heard the same thing a thousand times.

Her tone was matter-of-fact, a little too direct, like every word came with a weight she couldn't dodge. She didn’t lie. I didn't know that yet, but it showed in how she talked. Truth, sharp and raw.

I didn’t push her. Not yet. First, I had to figure out what kind of people I was dealing with. The pink-haired woman was still focused, issuing directions to the driver. They moved like a unit. Efficient. Comfortable.

Too comfortable.

I leaned back in my seat, eyes scanning the group. Trying to read their body language, their expressions, the subtle movements people make when they think they’re safe. Because I’d been fooled once already.

It was a survivor camp. Welcoming. Organized. They gave me food, a place to rest. Told me I was safe.

Then, on the second night, a few of the men decided safety was just another word for weakness. They came into my tent. Thought they could take whatever they wanted.

Now? They were rotting.

I made sure of that.

The world might have ended, but that didn’t give us an excuse to become monsters. So no, I don’t trust easy. Not anymore. Not until I see who you are when no one's watching.

And these people? These strangers who just saved my life?

They had my Humvee. And if they had that, they might have had Shizuko too.

I just had to keep my guard up. Stay quiet. Let them show who they are.

Rebecca, as she later introduced herself, was quick with her words but never wasted them. Every sentence had purpose, even if it sounded chaotic. Her presence was overwhelming—a mix of erratic energy and something eerily grounded. She was a contradiction, wrapped in neon skin and tattoos that danced when the lights flickered.

"So," she said after a while, breaking the silence. "You gonna ask, or should I just assume you’re gonna keep staring like I stole your girlfriend?"

I blinked. "You did steal my ride."

She gave a sharp-toothed grin. "Didn’t steal it. Found it. Keys were in the ignition. Seems more like a gift, don’t you think?"

"There was a note. Left by someone I care about. She said she was going to Takagi Estate. The Humvee was gone when I got back. I'm guessing you picked her up."

Rebecca's expression didn't change. But her words came slower. "She was kind. Smart. Talked about you like you were worth bleeding for."

My chest tightened. "So she's there? At the estate?"

Rebecca didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. "We left her there. Alive. Safe."

Her words were true. I felt it. She didn’t even need to convince me.

"Thank you."

She just shrugged. "Don’t thank me yet. We still gotta make it there."

Fair point.

I leaned back again, letting the rhythm of the Humvee calm my nerves. There were still miles to go. Still risks ahead. But for the first time in days, I wasn’t completely alone.

And if these weirdos turned out to be monsters?

Well, I still had a few bullets left.

Just in case.

{Rika's POV}

Fortunately, my worries had been entirely unfounded. Rebecca and her group... they weren’t monsters. Well, Rebecca was—in the kind of way that made your heart race and your instincts whisper both run and get closer. I’d never seen anyone, let alone someone that size, fight off a horde of zombies with nothing but her bare goddamn hands and walk away grinning. It wasn’t human, the way she moved—sharp, unrelenting, like she had too much energy in her blood and needed to burn it all. Like something not of this world had touched her.

Still, they hadn’t been looking for trouble. Turns out, the convoy was just returning from a scavenging run. The Humvee and the car behind were loaded to the brim—food, water, gas, ammo, medicine. Real high-value shit. Enough to keep a whole group going for weeks. I wasn’t ready to fully drop my guard, not yet, but Rebecca made it hard to keep my walls up.

She talked like a goblin with a sugar high and laughed like she had no fear of death. But there was a strange edge to her words, like everything she said had to be true, whether she wanted it to or not. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but her honesty didn’t feel noble—it felt dangerous. Like she could say something that would break you, but only if you asked the wrong question.

Even when she said Shizuka was part of their group, I didn’t fully believe her. That was until she led me to the Takagi Estate, which was as fortified as Yuriko Takagi claimed it to be. After the supplies were offloaded and everyone else scattered, Rebecca didn’t hesitate. She took my hand—not romantically, more like a child dragging a parent to see something shiny—and pulled me toward the medical tents.

And there she was.

Shizuka.

Alive. Safe. Wrapped in a pristine doctor's coat that somehow managed to still cling to her curves like sin itself. She was busy scribbling something on a clipboard, smile dreamy, hair a little messy. The sight of her made the tension in my chest loosen, like I could breathe for the first time in days.

"Hey, Shizuka! I've got a surprise fer ya!" Rebecca’s voice rang out, and Shizuka turned around, her usual, sunny expression in place. For a beat, she just blinked at me. Then her eyes widened, breath caught, and she dropped everything to run straight at me.

"Rika-chan! You're alive!" she cried, practically launching herself into my arms.

I barely had time to laugh before her lips slammed into mine. Years of muscle memory kicked in—I kissed her back, instinctively, like we'd never been apart. It wasn’t romantic, not in the typical sense. It was desperate, familiar, comforting. Shizuka and I... we’d always had something tangled between us. Dormmates turned partners in stress relief. Study buddies turned fuck buddies. Emotional anchors in a world that never stopped pulling.

We never put a label on it, even when we moved to the same city, took jobs near each other, and kept living under one roof. There was always a warmth there, even if it wasn’t defined.

When she finally pulled back, I smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear. She looked exactly the same, despite everything—the apocalypse hadn’t dulled her brightness. If anything, she glowed even stronger now, in contrast to the hellscape around us.

"That was hot~." came Rebecca’s voice, low and amused.

I stiffened. Oh right. She was still here. I turned slightly, my cheeks warming. I hadn’t meant to go that far with Shizuka in front of someone else, but this wasn’t exactly a normal day.

"Aww~ There's no need to be jealous, Rebecca-chan! Here~!"

Before I could even process her words, Shizuka spun on her heel and kissed Rebecca with the same intensity she’d just given me. It was sudden and messy, and yet Rebecca didn’t miss a beat. She met Shizuka halfway, one hand grabbing her waist while the other tangled into her blonde hair. I just stood there, lips parted in shock, heart thudding.

This wasn’t new. Shizuka had always been... open. She and I had shared women before, occasionally indulged in chaotic threesomes when the mood struck and alcohol loosened our inhibitions. But this wasn’t about lust—it felt almost ritualistic, charged. Like Shizuka knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t care who watched.

When they broke apart, Rebecca didn’t look smug or possessive. She looked at me, something flickering behind those wild, mismatched eyes. There was no challenge in her gaze—just invitation. Like she was saying, Want in? There’s room.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned back to Shizuka, trying to grasp onto something resembling normalcy. "It seems like you’ve been having fun without me. I feel my heart breaking here."

It was meant to be a joke. But as usual, Shizuka’s sense of emotional cues was hilariously off-kilter. Her eyes widened in panic.

"Ri-Rika-chan!? Are you jealous!?"

I laughed, shaking my head. She was the same as ever. Honest to a fault, emotionally chaotic, and absolutely incapable of reading subtext. And yet, that was part of her charm.

Truth be told, I wasn’t mad. We’d never been exclusive. If she found someone else to sleep with, that was fine. We’d talked about it... sort of. Or at least implied it was okay. But something about the way she kissed Rebecca made me pause. Not out of jealousy, but curiosity.

Maybe Shizuka hadn’t quite understood our arrangement as well as I thought.

"Don't worry, Rika-chan! I'm sure that Rebecca-chan would accept you into her harem! She already has two women in it, and there are others like me that are already technically part of it!"

My mind blue-screened.

I stared at her, blinking, then slowly turned to Rebecca. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, considering me. Her grin widened, all teeth and wicked promises.

She gave a single nod, followed by a slow, deliberate once-over of my body. That look made heat curl low in my belly. It wasn’t leering—it was evaluative. Like she was appraising something precious.

And I hated how much I liked it.

"She speaks true, y'know," Rebecca said, tone light but grounded with something deeper. "Though ‘harem’ ain’t the word I’d pick. It’s more of a... cozy network of mutual pleasure and shared bullets. You’d fit right in."

Her words had that same strange ring of undeniable truth. Like if you asked her to lie, her tongue would catch fire.

The air between us buzzed with tension. Shizuka stood between us, radiating joy and obliviousness, while Rebecca and I stared each other down. Not in aggression—but in understanding. In challenge. In invitation.

Something told me that Rebecca played by different rules. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to step onto her board.

But I was tempted.

I finally looked away, focusing on Shizuka again. "We’re going to have to talk later. About... boundaries."

She nodded, all sincerity and wide eyes. "Of course, Rika-chan! Anything for you!"

Rebecca chuckled, stepping closer, brushing her arm against mine in a way that felt accidental on purpose. She didn’t need to say anything. I could feel the heat rolling off her, like a chemical reaction waiting for a spark.

Yeah. I was definitely in trouble.

But for the first time in a long while, it was the kind of trouble I didn’t mind walking into.

{Rebecca's POV}

Well, that was...unexpected. I never would have thought we'd just stumble across Rika out in the open like that—just standing there, sniper rifle slung over her back, radiating that same calm authority I remembered from the stories. It was a fortunate encounter, truly, like a rare alignment of stars. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was fate, or maybe [Universal Calibration I] had a hand in this. Either way, I wasn't going to complain.

Shizuka's joy was radiant, practically infectious. Her laughter, that silly, giddy kind of laugh, bubbled out of her the moment she saw her old friend. She ran into Rika’s arms like a child reunited with their mother after a long war, and something inside me warmed at the sight. If she's happy, then I’m happy. That’s just how it works for me. Her emotions spill over and wrap around me like sunlight, and I bask in it. But what really caught me off guard was what happened next.

After all the hugging and squealing and half-tears between the two women, Shizuka turned toward me, those blue eyes of hers twinkling with mischief and earnestness all at once. “Rika should join your harem, too!” she said, like it was the most natural thing in the goddamn world.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Processing.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, she added, “I mean, I already am, right?”

My mouth opened, words half-formed, but nothing sensible came out. I mean, sure, after a week of Saeko joining the relationship I already had with Rei, and us not exactly hiding our arrangement, it became pretty obvious to everyone that I was forming a harem. No point denying that—I wasn’t trying to. Still, I hadn't expected Shizuka to just casually admit she saw herself as part of it. That felt like something someone would say with more weight, more lead-up. Not that I minded, not one damn bit, but the nonchalance of it all was what threw me.

And then there was Rika. Sharp-eyed, deadly, and just as calm as I imagined she’d be. She looked from Shizuka to me, and her gaze lingered—not in confusion, not in disapproval, but with something...appraising. Like she was weighing options. And the fact that she didn’t instantly shoot the idea down? That her lips curled ever so slightly in a knowing smile? Yeah. That was telling.

Was this world really that lewd? Or was this [Universal Calibration I] doing its work in the background again, greasing the wheels, bending hearts? Probably a bit of both. Either way, I wasn’t going to question it too hard. If things were falling into place this neatly, best not to push against it. Just accept the flow.

That kiss, though.

The first time Shizuka kissed me, it was soft. Almost clumsy, but sweet. It tasted like bubblegum and cheap lip gloss, and it caught me off guard. But I didn’t pull away. Gods, why would I? Her lips were warm, her hands shaky against my shoulders, and her breath hitched when I pressed back. She had more courage than I thought, and maybe more feelings, too.

Still, I couldn’t help but grin against her mouth. She was a good kisser. Surprisingly good. But I was better. That much I knew with the kind of confidence that didn’t require lies or bravado.

When we finally parted, her eyes were wide, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. I didn’t say anything right away. I didn’t need to. She got the message.

I left her and Rika to catch up—though I had a pretty good idea that they weren’t just going to talk. The way Shizuka held Rika’s hand, the way Rika looked at her, lips slightly parted? Yeah, those two were definitely going to do more than chat. The air between them practically vibrated with tension, thick and sticky like the summer heat.

Not that I was jealous. I mean, a little. But not in the possessive kind of way. More like… eager. Curious. Hungry. Let them warm each other up. I’d have my turn.

Anyway, while they were off undoubtedly fucking, I had more practical matters to deal with. I wasn’t just here to collect lovers, after all. I had to get stronger. And I had the [Credits] to do it.

At present, I had a total of [54 Credits], which had been [64 Credits] after [Capturing] Saeko and taking down a horde of a hundred zombies. But I’d spent some of those to buy [Talent Sharing: Martial Talent] for Rei and Saeko. No way in hell was I going to let my women stay weak—not when I had the means to change that. If I was going to be a god, then so would they. That was the truth.

Though, as I stood in the shade near one of the estate’s balconies, watching the city smolder in the distance, I had a moment of reflection. Maybe I should start saving some [Credits] for the next world. My [Missions] were nearly complete, and I needed to think ahead. My [Mission] to establish a base was essentially fulfilled—after all, I’d all but taken over Yuriko's role as the estate's de facto leader.

Yuriko was still technically in charge, of course. But things had started shifting. I could see the doubt simmering in her. Not distrust—just the creeping realization that maybe, just maybe, I was better at this. When I wasn’t out scavenging or spending time with my lovers, I made sure to be useful. Especially around her.

When I was with Yuriko, it was different. I brought Alice along, always. My daughter loved playing in the office, stacking folders like they were building blocks, chattering away while I assisted Yuriko with plans, schedules, and logistics. I didn’t just nod along—I gave advice, pointed out holes in her ideas, offered better alternatives. I wasn’t trying to sabotage her; far from it. But thanks to [Administrative Talent], it was clear I was damn good at this. Efficient. Precise.

And Yuriko noticed. Her eyes lingered a little longer each time I corrected her projections. Her lips pressed together tighter whenever I proposed a better strategy. She was stewing in it, and I could feel the slow burn of admiration—and desire—beginning to form. It was only a matter of time. The estate would be mine. She would be mine.

For now, though, I focused on power. With time to spare and peace, at least temporarily, I accessed the [Waifu Catalog] through my cybernetic eyes. The interface flickered into place, violet and blue against my vision, like a HUD from some retro-futuristic dream. I scrolled until I found what I wanted and bought [Added Potential: Chakra]—for me, Rei, and Saeko. Not because I liked sharing everything, but because power needed to be distributed if I wanted my family to survive.

I followed that up with [Talent Sharing: Soul Talent]. Rei and Saeko already knew the truth about me—or, at least, what I chose to show them. They could handle more.

I felt the Chakra burn its way into my bones, like fire and ice merging in my blood. It hurt, but in the way tattoos hurt—beautiful pain, meaningful pain. Rei and Saeko would be feeling the same soon. Their paths toward strength had just widened.

Once I felt the shift settle into my body, I adjusted my gloves and set off to find Yuriko. My boots clacked on the polished floors of the estate, echoing like a heartbeat. The halls were quiet, peaceful. But I could feel the tension underneath. The world outside was still burning. Still bleeding. But in here? Power was consolidating. Alliances forming.

And love. Love simmered beneath it all.

Between me and Shizuka—who'd kissed me like she was trying to carve her name into my soul. Between me and Rika—who hadn’t even touched me yet, but whose eyes had already made promises. And Yuriko? She didn’t even know she was falling yet. But she would. And when she did, it would be spectacular.

The game was far from over. I had [Credits] to spend, [Missions] to complete, lovers to cherish, and a future to seize.

And I wasn’t going to let anyone stop me.

Not the dead. Not fate. Not even the gods.

Because in this world, and the next, I would reign.

And my harem?

They would rule beside me.

Chapter Text

{Saya's POV}{18+}

A few days had passed, and I couldn't hold it in anymore.

After Rika—Shizuka's friend—had joined our group, I hadn't noticed a massive shift in our dynamic. No storm clouds on the horizon, no sense of impending chaos. Rather, it felt like things were simply falling into place, in their own time. With Rika now part of us, Shizuka had grown bolder with her affection toward Rebecca. She kissed her more openly now, casually brushing her lips against Rebecca’s cheek or mouth whenever the mood struck. And yet, she confessed she wasn't officially part of Rebecca's harem yet. Much to Rebecca’s delight, I might add.

I remember asking Shizuka about it one morning while she brushed her hair, naked except for a towel lazily hanging off her hip. I had asked, "Why aren’t you part of Rebecca’s harem? You kiss her like you already are."

She giggled in that airheaded way of hers and replied, "We haven’t had sex yet, Saya. That’s what makes it official, right?" She shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And honestly? That stuck with me.

If that’s the metric—if sex was the line drawn in the sand between affection and declaration—then what the hell was I doing just standing around like some useless third wheel?

So, here I was.

Wearing the sluttiest outfit I owned, which, truth be told, was stolen from my mother’s closet. A matching black lace bra and panties set, sheer thigh-high stockings clinging to my legs, and a silk robe that barely reached past my hips. I’d taken time preparing, shaving where I needed to, moisturizing until my skin felt like satin, and even spritzing a little perfume on the inside of my thighs. I felt sexy. I was sexy. My heart pounded wildly, but I was ready.

Tonight was the night.

Earlier that day, I’d cornered Rei and Saeko, told them what I planned. To my surprise, they were incredibly supportive. Saeko had even given me a pair of tips and suggestions that I tried desperately to memorize, while Rei teased me a bit but ended it with a genuine smile and a whispered, "Go get her."

They even gave me the room for the night.

Bless their beautiful, understanding hearts.

So now, with trembling fingers, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The scent of Rebecca—smoky, sweet, and electric—immediately filled my lungs.

Her eyes met mine instantly.

"Well~, well~, well~... What do we have here?" Her voice slithered over me, silk and sin.

I shivered, arousal shooting down my spine like a lightning bolt. Goddess, her voice did things to me. The way she purred every word with a playfulness that toed the line between teasing and threatening—it had become a kink of mine, no doubt.

"You knew this was inevitable, Rebecca." I said, steadying myself, trying to sound bold even as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.

She cocked her head, those wicked eyes twinkling. Her smile turned feral, the curve of her lips like a hook digging into my composure and tearing it to shreds.

"Inevitable? Mmm~ That’s such a final word," she purred. "But you’re not wrong."

That was Rebecca—always speaking the truth, whether it cut or caressed. There was something ancient and sharp about the way she said things, like she was always threading a needle through three meanings at once.

She stepped forward, every movement fluid, hips swaying like she was dancing to some sultry song only she could hear. She reached down and tugged her tank top over her head, then slid her shorts down, revealing her stunning body.

My breath caught.

Her skin—tinted in hues of seafoam green—shimmered under the soft light. Her breasts, plump and as large as Shizuka’s, bounced with the motion. Her tattoos glowed faintly, pink and swirling like ink in water. And between her legs? Her massive, throbbing cock, already half-hard and glistening.

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.

I’d fantasized about this moment a hundred times—masturbated to it in silence, sometimes just from a glimpse of her towel slipping, or her stretching just a bit too much. And now, I was here. Present. Ready.

"Tell me, my wonderful little genius~," Rebecca murmured, licking her lips. "How would you like me tonight~? Would you like to fuck me~? Or would you like me to fuck you~?"

The way she said it, drawn-out and deliberate, sent a jolt straight to my core.

I remembered what Rei and Saeko had told me. Rebecca was a switch, but she loved being a power bottom—loved giving up control only to steal it right back with a smile and a moan.

So I swallowed my nerves and stepped closer, my knees brushing hers.

"I want to fuck you, Rebecca," I whispered, voice trembling but sure. "I want to fuck you until I forget my own name."

Her grin was slow and devastating.

"Then fuck me, Saya~."

She crawled onto the bed on all fours, her back arched, and reached behind herself, spreading her ass to reveal her glistening, inviting pussy.

"Fuck me until my pussy is the only thing you can think of~."

That was all the invitation I needed.

I climbed onto the bed behind her, positioning myself. I lined up my cock—hard and aching, almost painfully so—and began to push in. Inch by inch, she welcomed me with tight, wet heat. My moan spilled out uncontrolled.

"F-Fuck, Rebecca... you're... you feel unreal..."

She hummed, her body quivering beneath mine.

The moment I bottomed out, pressing up against her cervix, I came. Just like that.

"Ahhh~!" I gasped, my entire body shuddering as I filled her.

But Rebecca—oh, this sinful, beautiful woman—wasn’t done.

She started rocking back into me, milking every drop from me, her inner walls clenching like she knew what she was doing.

"You done already~?" she teased, breathless but amused. "Or is this just the appetizer, hm~?"

"F-Fuck you." I muttered with a grin, gripping her hips tightly and starting to thrust again.

It didn’t take long for me to fall into a rhythm—slamming into her, grabbing at her ass, her tits, her shoulders. I was a mess, moaning, panting, repeating her name like it was a prayer.

"Rebecca... Rebecca... fuck... you’re so fucking perfect... I love you, I love you so much..."

"I love you too, Saya~." she whispered back, her voice raw and filled with something fierce and soft all at once.

We moved together like waves, crashing and receding, until I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.

She whispered things in my ear—promises of love, of devotion, of belonging. That I was hers, and she was mine. That she would take care of me, always. That this—us—wasn't just some fling, but everything.

"You're mine as much as I'm yours, Saya~."

We shifted positions over and over again—me riding her, her in my lap, tangled in bedsheets and sweat and moans. She made me feel everything all at once—powerful, fragile, wanted, worshipped.

Eventually, I tired. My body buzzed with overstimulation and aching love. But Rebecca was still full of energy, holding me close, humming softly as she ran her fingers through my hair.

She kissed my temple, whispering sweet nothings.

"You’re my genius," she said. "My beautiful, perfect Saya."

And I clung to her, heart full, mind fuzzy, and whispered back all the love I could muster.

Until sleep claimed me in her arms.

And even then, I dreamed of her.

{Yuriko's POV}

Rebecca was a godsend. There was no other way to describe the woman who had single-handedly prevented our estate from collapsing into starvation and chaos. She and her crew had become the backbone of our scavenging operations—fearless, efficient, and, above all, relentless in their pursuits. If there was food to be found, supplies to be claimed, or trouble to be put down, Rebecca was there, guns blazing and that feral grin of hers daring anyone to test her.

It was ironic, almost comical, how someone so chaotic—so unapologetically wild—could also possess such an innate gift for order. You wouldn't think someone like her, with green pigtails bouncing, skin kissed by some strange blueish tint, and those pink tattoos glowing faintly under moonlight, would be able to navigate the intricacies of leadership. But she did. And she did it damn well. Plans, logistics, conflict resolution—she excelled. She had a mind sharp as razors and a way of cutting through bullshit like no other.

She would often appear beside me in the middle of estate meetings, silent at first, watching the room with those intense eyes of hers. Then, when the arguments would swell and tensions rose, she'd simply step forward, tilt her head slightly, and speak. Her words weren’t just persuasive—they were binding. They stuck in your head, reshaped your thoughts, made you listen. When that didn’t work, well, her fists or her oversized gun usually did the trick. Peace was kept. Order was maintained. Not always cleanly, not always gently, but it held.

More than once, she’d helped me manage the estate, stepping into the chaos with all the grace of a wild animal who’d learned to dance. She kept the zombies out, kept the survivors in line, and more importantly, she kept me from collapsing under the weight of all the responsibility. Rebecca didn’t just support me—she anchored me. Whenever I doubted, she was there, that rough hand on my shoulder, calloused but grounding, her voice a low rasp in my ear. “You got this. Don’t fuck it up.”

Goddess, I adored her.

At first, I tried to deny it. I told myself it was admiration, appreciation—gratitude, even. But no. It was love. Raw, confusing, aching love. The kind that made your stomach twist and your heart race. She was everything I had secretly hoped for in a partner: strong, sharp, competent, unyielding. She made decisions without hesitation, moved like a force of nature, and stood her ground with that glint in her eye that dared the world to come at her.

She wasn’t like Shouichiro. No, not even remotely. That cowardly bastard clung to me like some limpet, basking in my achievements and hiding behind his blade. Always afraid to act unless someone held his hand. Even in bed, he was pitiful—a man who could swing a sword but couldn’t wield a woman. Good riddance. The only thing impressive about him was how quickly I stopped missing him.

But Rebecca…

Rebecca stirred something in me I hadn’t felt in years. Lust, yes. Gods, so much lust. But also warmth. Affection. Respect. It was maddening. The way her hips swayed with barely restrained power, the way her smirk made my knees weak, how she carried herself like a queen in a crumbling world—it all riled me up. The more she proved her worth, the harder I fell. And she just kept proving herself, again and again.

She was chaos wrapped in confidence. Curves that defied her petite height, skin that shimmered under certain light, and a presence that demanded attention. I remember the first time I saw her in the moonlight, sweat clinging to her skin after a particularly brutal zombie raid. Her top torn, exposing just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. Her breathing ragged, chest rising and falling like a battle drum. I stared far longer than I should have. She caught me, of course. She always does. Smirked. Didn’t say a word.

And then there was the matter of her... equipment.

Yes, that part.

I hadn’t known at first. Why would I? She carried herself like a woman through and through. But then Saya—my daughter, my sweet, sharp daughter—had dropped the bomb on me with all the subtlety of a grenade.

"By the way, Mom," she had said, voice too casual, too light. "I joined Rebecca’s harem."

I choked on my tea. Spluttered. Tried to breathe. “You what?”

She shrugged, unbothered. “She’s amazing. And she’s got this lovely litt;e- well, not little, but you get what I mean. You’ll love it.”

I didn’t even want to ask. But I didn’t have to. Saya, the ever-blunt, ever-pragmatic girl she was, explained. In detail. I hadn’t known whether to scream, laugh, or keel over from shock. But oddly enough, I didn’t feel anger. Or shame. Or even jealousy.

No, instead I felt... intrigued. Then, undeniably aroused.

Was it strange? Perhaps. In another world, it might have been taboo. But the world had ended. Society’s rules burned with the cities. And love—real, messy, complicated love—had a way of surviving, adapting. I couldn't bring myself to judge. Not Saya. Not Rebecca. Not myself.

Especially when my own daughter looked me dead in the eye and said, “Stop being a coward and go for her. You deserve to be happy too, Mom.”

That little push was all it took.

From then on, I couldn’t stop watching Rebecca. Couldn’t stop imagining her hands on me, that rough voice whispering not battle plans, but filthy, tender promises. Her smirk haunted my dreams, and her laugh—gods, her laugh—set me on fire. Every interaction between us grew charged. She'd brush against me during inspections, her fingers lingering just a second too long. Our eyes would meet across a room, and I’d feel that magnetic pull tighten.

There were nights she’d come to my room, not for anything lewd, but just to talk. To share drinks, stories, burdens. She'd sit close, too close, her thigh pressed against mine. She never made the first move, and neither did I—but the air would sizzle between us, ripe with unspoken desire.

She would lick her lips slowly, and I’d feel heat coil in my belly. She’d glance at my mouth, then look away, eyes dancing with amusement. The worst part? She knew. Of course she knew. She always fucking knew.

She’d say things like, “You’re wound up too tight, Yuriko. Gotta find a way to unwind.”

I’d try to respond, but my words would stutter, stumble. She’d chuckle, low and throaty, leaning in just a bit closer.

One time, I snapped. I turned to her, fingers gripping her arm a little too hard. “Are you playing with me?”

She met my gaze, and for once, her smirk softened. “I don’t play with things I don’t want to keep.”

Goddamn her.

We never kissed, not yet. But we lingered. We circled each other like wolves, daring the other to make the first move. It was maddening, deliciously so. Every glance, every brush of skin, every hushed whisper—it was foreplay stretched across days, weeks.

And despite all of it, despite the way she turned my insides molten and set my skin ablaze with a single look, I still found myself thinking of handing her the reins of the estate. She was simply better than me. She knew how to make people listen, how to balance compassion with ruthlessness. Where I hesitated, she acted. Where I faltered, she surged forward.

I trusted her. Entirely. With my people, my home, my daughter… and maybe soon, with my heart.

For now, I had reports to handle—piles of them, mocking me from my desk. But even as I stared at the inked mess of numbers and complaints, my mind wandered to Rebecca. To the shape of her smile, the scent of her sweat, the sound of her boots in the hallway.

Soon, I thought.

Soon, I’d make my move.

But for now… I had to deal with these fucking reports.

{Kyoko's POV}{18+}

I still remember that day. The day everything changed. The day Rebecca saved me.

It was chaos. One second, I was tending to my fellow teacher—he’d been bitten by some deranged man who stumbled in through the school gates—and the next, he was groaning, his skin pale, his eyes bloodshot. I had no idea what was really happening. Zombies? That was fiction, fantasy. Not something I'd ever expected to be real. But just as I called out to him, still thinking he needed help, he lunged at me like a starved beast.

Then she appeared.

Rebecca.

Like a rocket. Like a fucking explosion. She slammed into him, kicking him so hard he flew across the corridor, blood spraying the tiled floor. I was still frozen, my mind struggling to catch up. But she didn’t wait. She grabbed me—rough, firm, unhesitating—and pulled me along as the screams erupted down the hall. The flood of the undead came crashing into the school, and I would've died right there if it wasn’t for her.

Since then, I’ve never left her side.

I clung to her like a lifeline, even as others joined us. Even as the world ended, and our group grew, Rebecca remained my anchor. More and more women orbited around her, like she was a sun burning too bright to ignore. I didn’t care. I couldn't. Because I loved her.

Every smirk. Every curse. Every wild laugh. Her rage, her passion, her tenderness when she thought no one was looking—it consumed me. Rebecca’s heart was just too big for one woman to handle, but gods, I was more than willing to try. To share. To belong to her.

And tonight… Tonight, I’d finally made up my mind.

Weeks of tension. Weeks of lingering stares and fingers brushing too long when we passed each other. Weeks of her saying things that made my thighs clench, voice rough and honest in ways that stirred something raw inside me. Tonight, I wasn’t waiting anymore.

With Saeko moving into Rebecca and Rei’s room—which was also Saya’s now, ever since they all became part of Rebecca’s harem—I finally had a space that was mine. Mine to invite her into. Mine to claim something I had long desired.

“What's this about, Kyoko?” she asked, her voice teasing but curious, as I pulled her into my room. Her eyes, always sharp, always electric, searched mine, even as I gave nothing but a smile and turned away.

I didn’t answer. Words would ruin it.

I started to undress. Slowly. Deliberately. Letting each layer slide off my skin, letting the silence stretch and mold into something electric. My shirt hit the floor, followed by my skirt. Rebecca made a low sound behind me—half amused, half intrigued.

“Oh~? Well, I should’ve seen this coming~.”

But I didn’t stop. I unhooked my bra, sliding the straps down my arms with a practiced grace I didn’t know I had until now. Then, the last barrier. I peeled down my panties, shivering as my cock sprang free. My arousal was already obvious—throbbing, flushed, desperate.

I turned to face her—and froze.

She was already naked.

When? How?

Her petite frame, covered in swirling pink tattoos that danced over her blue-green skin, her short stature belying the wild power she held in her body, her very presence—it was breathtaking. But it was the sight of her cock, thick and pulsing, that made my breath catch.

We'd seen each other naked before—showers, tight spaces, living rough—but this wasn’t that. This was charged. Intimate. Tantalizing.

I took a step forward, then dropped to my knees before her. My lips trembled with the words I needed to say.

“Rebecca,” I whispered, eyes locked to hers. “Please. For the love of god… fuck me.”

Something in her eyes shifted—sharpness softened, melted into hunger. And that was all she needed. She pushed me gently down onto the bed, climbing over me with the grace of a predator, our breasts pressing together, her cock dragging over my thigh.

Her lips found mine, hot and demanding. I didn’t fight back—I never could. Rebecca wasn’t someone you dominated. She was dominance. In every smirk, every growl of her voice. On the battlefield and off of it. Especially here.

Her tongue swept against mine, and I melted into her, moaning softly when her hand wrapped around my cock and began to stroke it, slow and purposeful.

“Such a needy little slut~,” she purred. “You liked that, didn’t you~?”

I nodded, breathless. I couldn’t lie. Not to her.

She smirked, then began trailing kisses down my neck, her breath warm against my flushed skin. Her mouth found my breasts, flicking her tongue over one nipple, then the other, while her hand continued working my cock with maddening patience.

“Fuck, Rebecca…” I whimpered, arching into her touch.

And then—she went lower. Her gaze locked to mine as she slid down my body, her grin widening as she kissed just above my cock, teasing. I gave a needy whine, my hips twitching.

Without warning, she took me in her mouth—whole.

My vision blurred. My body tensed, then shattered in pleasure. I came instantly, the orgasm ripped from me by her expert mouth and relentless pace. But she didn’t stop. Oh no. Rebecca never stopped.

She kept going, letting my cum flood her tongue, face, lips, even as I gasped and shuddered beneath her. She pulled off with a lewd pop, licking her lips.

“Mmm~. So hot~.”

My cock twitched again at the sight of her drenched in my cum, still hungry. Still ready.

She stood, grabbed my legs, and pulled me to the edge of the bed with a single, fluid motion.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Kyoko~,” she said, her voice husky and filled with promise. “And you’re going to love every fucking second of it.”

I nodded, throat dry, hips lifting in invitation. “Please,” I whimpered. “I need you.”

Her grin widened as she positioned herself, her cock pressing against my slick folds. Inch by inch, she entered me. Stretching, filling, claiming. My breath hitched when she reached my cervix—and then she pushed deeper.

I screamed.

Not from pain. From pleasure. From the overwhelming bliss of her breaching my walls and planting herself so deeply inside me, it felt like she’d touched my soul.

“That’s it, baby~. Just like that~.”

And then, she fucked me.

Hard. Slow. Deep. Grinding into me with every thrust, letting my pussy feel every vein, every throb. Her hands held my hips like I was something precious, like I was hers.

Which I was.

I moaned her name again and again, chanting it like prayer, my tongue lolling out as she thrust just up to my cervix, then back in, over and over. I could barely think. Could barely breathe. Just feel. Just exist under her.

She flipped me onto my side, then onto my stomach, then bent me over the edge of the bed, never once slipping out of me. Her body stayed molded to mine, her cock owning every part of me.

“You’re mine,” she growled against my ear. “Every hole. Every breath. Mine.”

“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes, yes, gods, Rebecca—!”

Hours passed.

We didn’t stop.

Sweat slicked our bodies. My cum soaked the sheets. Her cum filled me again and again, warm and thick and claiming. She didn’t let me go. Not once. Even when I begged for mercy between orgasms, she kissed me quiet and fucked me harder.

And when it was over—when our bodies were trembling, spent, glowing in the aftermath—I laid beside her. My heart full. My body aching in the most perfect way.

She brushed my hair from my face, kissed my forehead with a rare gentleness.

“I love you, Kyoko.” she said, voice quieter than I’d ever heard it.

My heart nearly burst.

“I love you, too.”

There was no other answer. No other truth. I curled into her arms, her warmth against my skin, and knew I’d never need anything else again.

Rebecca. My gremlin. My savior. My love.

Mine.

Chapter Text

{Rika's POV}

Shizuka—or rather, Rebecca's group—was... something else. It’s been just over a week since they stumbled onto me, and in that chaos, I found myself reunited with Shizuka. After that, everything changed. I didn't just rejoin her. I became part of them. This ragtag, chaotic, oddly-functional group had somehow carved out a place in the apocalypse, and now, I was nestled within it like I'd always belonged.

Every day, we ventured out together, scavenging whatever we could find. Food, weapons, medicine—hell, even duct tape if it was in good condition. A few days ago, we managed to rescue a cluster of survivors holed up in a mall. It was intense, bloody, but successful. I think it was that moment, the aftermath of all that adrenaline and madness, that I realized: I actually liked these people. They were crude, weird, sometimes volatile—but they were also dependable, resilient, and oddly loving.

Takeshi and Kohta, the only men in the group, kept a bit of distance. Not out of malice, but just... male awkwardness, I guess. You could tell they didn’t quite know how to slot themselves into a group where the bonds between women were tight and fluid. Still, they pulled their weight. Takeshi had that stoic reliability you only see in old war movies, and Kohta? The guy was basically a walking armory. Weirdly endearing in his nerdy obsession with guns.

Then there was Kyoko. Our driver. Cool-headed, always calm, eyes flicking from mirror to mirror like her life depended on it—which, to be fair, it often did. If she hadn't slammed on the brakes that day I came barreling through that intersection, I’d probably be nothing but a smear on the asphalt. Her instincts were sharp, and she rarely said anything that didn’t matter. I liked that about her. Efficient. Observant. Gorgeous in a quiet, simmering way.

Saya, the so-called genius, was... a handful. Daughter of the Takagi Estate's leader, she had a chip on her shoulder the size of a tank. Constantly reminding us how clever she was, how many degrees she would’ve had if not for the apocalypse. But for all the bragging, she backed it up. Her insight had saved our asses more than once. I respected her—grudgingly at first—but now, more genuinely.

Saeko was something else entirely. Calm. Refined. And when she fought? Fucking terrifying. There was a gleam in her eye, this subtle joy she took in every swing of her blade, like dancing with death was her idea of a good time. But when the blood dried and the zombies stopped groaning, she was serene. Almost maternal in how she spoke and carried herself. The contrast made her dangerously attractive.

Rei was pure sunshine—on the surface. She was bubbly, laughed easily, and had this girlish energy that was addictive. But don’t be fooled; she was lethal with a spear and could take down a small mob of the undead without breaking a sweat. That spark in her? It wasn’t just joy—it was fire. And under the right conditions, it could burn you.

Then there was Alice. Rebecca’s adopted daughter. Cute little shit, as I liked to call her. Bright eyes, mischievous grin, always asking questions and somehow making even the apocalypse feel like an adventure. I could see why Rebecca had taken her in. The kid brought something back into the group—a reminder of why we fought, why we kept moving.

And Rebecca... Gods, Rebecca.

She was a fucking whirlwind. Barely five feet tall, green pigtails bobbing as she stormed into every situation with zero hesitation and a grin that promised either salvation or destruction—or both. Her skin had this blue-green shimmer, tattoos glowing faintly under the right light, like war paint from a world far stranger than ours. She was loud, cocky, and ridiculously strong. Like she could punch the moon out of the sky and laugh about it.

It wasn’t just that she was attractive—though she absolutely was in that chaotic gremlin kind of way. It was the way people gravitated to her. Women especially. She had a harem. Saeko, Rei, Saya, and Kyoko had all fallen under her spell. And Shizuka? She claimed she was technically part of the harem, though she seemed to believe she had to sleep with Rebecca for it to be truly official. Old college habits, probably. Weird ones, too.

And me? Well... I hadn’t exactly said yes. But I hadn’t said no, either.

It was tempting. So fucking tempting.

There was something in the way Rebecca looked at me. Not just some passing glance or flirtatious tease. Her gaze was heavy. Knowing. Like she could see past the apocalypse-battered walls I’d built and straight into the soft, aching mess underneath. When she talked to me, it was with this strange, lyrical cadence—honest, piercing, alluring. Never a lie, not once. Her words felt like promises wrapped in smoke and honey.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

The way her fingers brushed my wrist when she passed me a canteen. The lingering press of her hip against mine when we squeezed into a hiding spot during a raid. The way her voice dipped, almost purring, when she called my name. And Gods... the way her eyes darkened when I caught her looking at me. It wasn’t just lust. It was hunger. And it lit something inside me I hadn’t felt in years.

Every night, the group curled up in whatever shelter we could find when we took too much time outside. And every night, I found myself looking for her. Listening for the sound of her laughter. Watching how the others drifted toward her, how she touched them, kissed them, worshipped them like they were each divine in their own way. And they returned it. Gods, did they return it. There was so much love between them, not just sex—it was a web of affection, trust, and loyalty.

And I wanted in.

I’d always thought, back before the world ended, that maybe Shizuka and I would get married someday. That I’d finally grow up, stop skirting around commitment, and just drop to one knee with a ring and a promise. That she’d cry, laugh, and say yes.

But now?

Now I had the chance to be with her—and with others who stirred things deep inside me. All of us tangled together, part of something feral and intimate. Part of Rebecca. And fuck me, I wanted that. I wanted to fall into that orbit, to be caught in that gravity.

Still, I wasn’t foolish enough to rush in blind. No matter how persuasive Shizuka was. I needed to be sure. I needed to know Rebecca wasn’t hiding something dark. But the more time I spent with her, the more I saw how she loved. Fiercely. Honestly. When one of her lovers was injured, she flew into a storm of rage and fire. When they cried, she held them like they were all that mattered. When they laughed, she basked in it.

She never faked a damn thing.

Her seduction wasn’t a game. It was a calling. Every word, every smile, every teasing little gesture—it was all real. All raw. And it was working. Gods, it was fucking working.

Last night, as the fire crackled low and the others drifted into sleep, she sat beside me. Close. Too close. Our shoulders brushed, and I swear, my skin ignited. She offered me a swig from her flask, then leaned in and whispered, "You know you’ve already chosen. You’re just waiting for your mouth to catch up with your heart."

I stared at her, my lips parted, breath shallow.

She didn’t kiss me. Didn’t even try.

She just smiled.

And that smile was worse than any kiss. It was a promise. A challenge.

One I knew I was going to lose.

{Rebecca's POV}

Two weeks and a handful of days had slipped by since I first stumbled into this fucked-up, undead-infested world. And honestly? I was damn glad for it. Sure, the first few days were rough as hell—being dropped into chaos with jack shit to my name aside from a couple of cybernetic implants, a few nasty scars, and some sweet augmented reflexes. But still, I was grateful. Grateful that I ended up here, of all places, and grateful that Morgana had chosen me as her [Patron]. The double [Credits] perk? Absolute lifesaver.

Once I found some solid ground under my feet and nestled into the safety of the Takagi Estate, I didn’t just sit around twiddling my thumbs. No, I worked—hard. With [Martial Talent] and [Soul Talent], I pushed myself every day, building strength and mastering technique until I hit what I figured was [Tier 4], just like [Template Stacking I] had promised. Taking that skill gave me Hinata's framework—the same one that let her kick ass in her own world. From there, I adapted. I evolved.

Hinata’s calm, gentle precision didn’t suit me. Hell no. I’m not built for that delicate shit. I’m brutal. Chaotic. Fire and fury, not peace and poise. So, bit by bit, I rewrote her moves, breaking them down and rebuilding them into something more... me. It took time, and it wasn’t easy, but with [Soul Talent] and [Martial Talent] working in tandem, I twisted the Gentle Fist into a savage, unrelenting storm. Still elegant, yeah—but lethal in a whole different way.

Of course, I didn’t limit myself to taijutsu. Hinata may have specialized in close-range combat, but she had Chakra Elements too—Fire and Lightning. And thanks to [Added Potential: Chakra], I slowly started to tap into those elements myself. It was basic at first—elemental bursts, small-scale jutsu, nothing fancy. But it worked. It grew. My control was raw, but it had potential. And with [Soul Talent] backing me up, it was just a matter of time before I could weaponize it into something devastating.

Wall-running and walking on water became second nature, though in a world overrun with zombies, those skills didn’t come in handy as much as you’d think. Still, they made me feel like a goddamn ninja, and that’s never a bad thing.

Then came Saya and Kyoko. When they joined my [Retinue]—my harem—it wasn’t just about power. It was about connection. About fire. About want. I bought [Added Potential: Chakra] for both of them, along with [Educational Talent], so I could teach them everything they needed. Training with them turned into more than just sparring. Our bodies tangled as much in bed as they did in mock combat, limbs wrapped tight and breaths hot against each other’s skin.

Teaching Alice became part of my routine too. No daughter of mine was going to grow up without a proper education, even if the world had gone to shit. So between bloody skirmishes and sensual nights, I carved out time to teach her letters, numbers, and a bit of moral philosophy—even if that last one came with a distinctly Rebecca spin.

But the real beauty of my new life? The women I surrounded myself with.

Saya—the brilliant, sharp-tongued firebrand—was like a constant flame at my side. She loved my chaos, reveled in it, fed off of it. Our kisses were always deep, tinged with the fire of unspoken promises and feral desire. Her intellect and my instinct were a dangerous combination. We’d whisper wild ideas to each other between kisses, hands wandering as easily as our minds.

Kyoko, on the other hand, was soft strength wrapped in curves and kindness. A different kind of heat, one that simmered under the surface. When I touched her, she melted in ways that made my core burn. She’d blush when I traced her jaw, but she never shied away. Her need was as deep as mine, hidden beneath that professional exterior. In private, I peeled back every layer of her, and she let me.

Rei was bold. Aggressive, but always subservient. She always asked, giving me control. We fucked like we fought—fierce, desperate, and without restraint. I loved her for it. Every breath she took around me seemed to shake with frustration and lust. Our chemistry was volatile, but magnetic. When she came to me, fingers digging into my arms, there was no room for hesitation.

Then there was Saeko. God, Saeko. Controlled chaos in a perfect, deadly package. Our bond was forged in blood and sweat, in whispered battles in moonlit corridors. We trained together endlessly, each session ending in tangled limbs and panting moans. She spoke little, but when her lips touched mine, the silence said everything.

And Shizuko... she wasn’t mine. Not yet. But every glance she gave me spoke volumes. The way her eyes lingered on my hips, the way her cheeks flushed when I brushed past her—it was delicious. I didn’t push. I didn’t need to. She was already mine, and she knew it. Every time I touched her, even casually, I saw the heat rise in her. She would come to me soon.

Yuriko, Saya’s mother, exuded confidence and power. A real queen. She tried to hide the way she looked at me, but I saw it. Felt it. Sometimes, our conversations turned playful. Flirtatious. Once, I leaned in close, whispering something obscene just to see the way her breath hitched. She didn’t deny the pull between us. She just hadn’t given in. Yet.

Rika... dear god, Rika. That woman could shoot the wings off a fly at a hundred yards, and the way she looked in tactical gear made my knees weak. I flirted with her shamelessly, every touch laced with heat. She gave as good as she got, sharp-witted and snarky. Our banter was foreplay. One night, after a particularly rough raid, we shared a bottle of whiskey, and I kissed her just to shut her up. She didn’t stop me.

Our group was a chaotic, lust-charged whirlwind. We shared danger, we shared laughter—and we shared each other. There was no need for shame here. When the nights grew cold, we curled into each other for warmth—and more. Sweat-slicked skin, tangled sheets, soft moans in the dark—it was more than just comfort. It was survival. It was love.

No, not all of them were in my [Retinue] yet. But hearts shift. Desires rise. I could see it in their eyes. Feel it in their touches. The day would come.

Even in a world like this—full of blood and death and uncertainty—I had found something beautiful. Something powerful. A family. A harem. A purpose.

I wouldn’t let it be taken away.

I trained, I grew stronger, and I burned with desire—for power, for love, for every woman who had taken up space in my heart and my bed. The world might be rotting around us, but we were alive. Gloriously, hungrily alive.

And I would protect that life, no matter what the fuck it cost me.

{Yuriko's POV}{18+}

I stand before the full-length mirror in my dimly lit bedroom, the soft glow of a single lavender-scented candle casting flickering shadows across the walls. My reflection stares back, a vision of raw, unapologetic desire. The purple stockings hug my thighs like a lover’s caress, their sheer fabric shimmering faintly, accentuating the curve of my legs. The garter belt, black and lacy, cinches my waist, its straps taut against my skin, framing the delicate, crotchless panties that leave my puffy pussy lips exposed, glistening faintly in the candlelight. My bra, a scandalous piece of barely-there lace, does nothing to hide my hardened nipples, poking brazenly through the slits designed to tease. My cock, freed from the confines of the panties, stands proud, twitching with anticipation. I sigh, a mix of nerves and excitement, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Tonight is the night I surrender to the pull of Rebecca, the woman who has haunted my fantasies since Saya first whispered her name with reverence.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

With the [Capture] of Yuriko, and my explanation of my origins to her, she surrendered her position to me with surprising grace. She understood her place in the new world I was building, and to her credit, she took it well—better than most would have. It allowed me to wrap up nearly all of my [Optional Objectives] for this [Mission] within the span of a week. Efficient, clean, and thoroughly satisfying. The reward? [170 Credits].

Even now, just thinking about that haul made my stomach curl with that sweet, giddy joy. There's something primal about gaining wealth after a job well done. I didn't waste time—I reinvested it immediately. First thing I got was [Faerie Feast]. My girls deserved to be spoiled, and I wanted to be the one doing the spoiling. Whether they were fighting, fucking, or just trying to unwind in this undead hellscape, they should have the best. Second was [Sticky Fingers: Brown Sugar]. A little something to make our nighttime fun a lot more decadent. That ability? Absolute game-changer. And lastly, I picked up [Alluring Whisper: Siren's Song]. The moment I read its description—"Your voice is supernaturally compelling. As an active effect, you can empower your words to give specific commands."—I knew it was made for me. After all, why shout orders when you can whisper and have people scramble to obey?

That left me with [78 Credits]—a nice cushion. I could splurge later, maybe something utility-based. But for now, I let them sit.

"How's it going over there?" I called out casually to one of the guys overseeing the waterwheel project. He used to be Yuriko's, but now? He was mine. I don't even mean that in some mind-control way. Just that he believed in me now—or maybe feared me. Either way, it worked.

He turned, giving a thumbs up. "Goin' well, boss. With the area's been cleared, we’ve had zero interference from the dead. Team's making good time."

We'd gotten damn lucky finding the parts to even start the waterwheel in the first place. It was almost comical. Right by the river, not far from the bridge we'd passed about three weeks ago. A perfect location: steady water flow, open terrain, and now, no zombies. Clearing that spot hadn't been a walk in the park, but we pushed through. Grit, ammo, blades, and a fair bit of sweat. Now, with the site walled off, the workers could do their thing without looking over their shoulders.

"Good. Real good. Keep at it." I replied, raising my voice just enough so the others could hear too. Some waved, others nodded—acknowledgment, respect. That was enough for me.

Patrolling was next. It was part of the role I’d taken over when Yuriko gave up the mantle. I didn’t just push her aside—hell, I made her my second-in-command. She still handled the estate’s internal affairs, which was a nice balance. My strengths were out here, roaming, making sure things stayed clean. Strong bodies guard the perimeter. Sharp minds maintain the inside. She got that. That’s why it worked.

Today, I was just making my rounds. Walking the fences, checking the traps, giving the guards a nod, watching how the people moved and breathed. It was... quiet. Peaceful in a way only the post-apocalypse could offer. No cars, no distant hum of electricity—not really. We still had power, sure, but it was borrowed time. That waterwheel wasn’t just a luxury—it was a necessity. We weren’t going to be caught with our pants down when the grid finally blinked out.

The city was oddly built for this kind of survival. So many goddamn walls, it was like the architects knew this day would come. We just had to seal the gaps. Cars, wired fences, debris—all arranged to funnel or block anything that tried to slip through. Dumb zombies made that easier. No climbing, no tools, no strategy. Just groans and forward motion.

Even so, I kept an eye out.

I spotted a couple of kids—young teens, maybe—trying to climb a half-crushed delivery truck like it was a jungle gym. One wrong slip and they’d land on a pile of rusty metal. "Hey!" I called out, tone sharp but not cruel. They froze. I walked over, boots crunching on gravel. "Get down from there. That thing ain’t stable. You want to die from tetanus instead of a zombie bite?"

They nodded quickly, climbing down. I let the silence stretch for a moment before adding, "Find something else to play with. Or better yet, help with supplies. You want to grow up, right?"

That got a nervous laugh from one of them. "Yes, ma’am."

I moved on.

At the edge of the northern wall, I paused, eyes scanning the tree line. Nothing moved. Still, I knelt, running a gloved hand across the dirt. A few disturbed spots—recent, but not fresh. Maybe animals. Maybe something else. I didn’t call it in. Not yet. Just marked it in my mental notes.

Back near the estate, Yuriko stood at the veranda, clipboard in hand, focused as ever. She noticed me and smiled. That look—it wasn't submission. It was trust. The kind of bond forged in fire, sweat, and a few late-night talks over [Faerie Feast] dishes. She wasn’t just loyal. She believed. And she was mine.

"Smooth patrol?" she asked as I approached.

"Like butter on hot, greasy skin." I replied, smirking.

She rolled her eyes. "Always poetic."

"Only when I’m being honest." I said, and it wasn’t a lie.

We shared a moment of silence, just watching the people move, eat, talk. Survivors, each of them, but more than that—they were our people now.

"You planning to make another supply run before the jump?" Yuriko asked.

"Thinking about it. Maybe tomorrow. Just a small crew. There’s a hospital not too far we haven’t touched. Might be worth the risk."

"Then I’ll prep some maps and gear."

"Good. We’re not dying in this world—not now, not ever."

I meant it.

The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the estate. Fires lit up in oil drums. Laughter echoed in one corner. Somewhere, someone was playing a damn guitar they must’ve looted from a pawn shop. It was weird, surreal.

But it was home, for now.

By the time I made one last round through the central plaza, people were setting up for dinner. Smells from the communal kitchens filled the air. My stomach growled. Even a badass needed to eat.

I spotted two women flirting openly near the fire, hands brushing as they prepared stew. A guy nearby was teaching kids how to properly hold makeshift spears. An old man was telling a story about where cars used to fly—or at least that’s what it sounded like, just to pass the time.

I stood in the center of it all, breathing it in.

This place wasn’t perfect. Hell, it was barely sustainable.

But it was mine. And for the next seven days, until the [Mission Timer] hit zero and we blinked out to the next world, I was going to make damn sure it held together.

Even if it meant working in the shadows. Watching without being seen. Guiding without being noticed.

{Rika's POV}{+18}

The air in the room hung heavy, thick with the promise of what was to come. Tonight was the night, the culmination of weeks of whispered encouragements from Rebecca’s harem, a chorus of voices urging Shizuka and me to finally surrender to her magnetic pull. My heart thundered in my chest as I stood side by side with Shizuka, our shared anticipation crackling like static between us. With a fleeting glance, our eyes met, and we exchanged a nod, a silent pact sealed in the flickering candlelight. My fingers trembled slightly as I pushed open the heavy wooden door, and the scent of Rebecca hit us immediately—a heady mix of blood, metal, and something darkly sweet, like overripe cherries left to ferment in the sun. It was intoxicating, primal, and it sent a shiver racing down my spine.

Inside, Rebecca sat at a sleek black desk, her petite frame hunched over a scattering of papers, her neon-green hair catching the dim light like a beacon. She was dressed in a tight, blood-red corset that hugged her curves, the laces straining against her full breasts, and a pair of leather pants that clung to her thighs like a second skin. Her boots, studded with silver spikes, rested casually on the edge of the desk, and a single silver chain dangled from her neck, glinting as it caught the light. The sight of her, so effortlessly commanding, made my breath hitch. I coughed into my hand, a nervous tic, and her head snapped up, her crimson lips curling into a smirk as she took in the sight of Shizuka and me standing in the doorway, clad only in our lingerie.

Shizuka’s ensemble was a delicate contrast to mine—her pale pink babydoll dress, sheer and flowing, barely concealed her lithe frame, the hem teasingly short, revealing the curve of her ass and the faint outline of her cock through the translucent fabric. Her long, raven-black hair spilled over her shoulders, framing her flushed cheeks. I, on the other hand, had chosen something bolder: a black lace bodysuit that left my nipples exposed, the fabric cut high on my hips to showcase the swell of my pussy lips and the proud jut of my twelve-inch cock. The garters clinging to my thighs were adorned with tiny silver studs, glinting as they caught the light. Rebecca’s eyes roamed over us both, slow and deliberate, her gaze like a physical caress that made my skin prickle with heat.

“Finally come to a decision, Rika~?” Her voice was a low, sultry purr, laced with a strange, commanding quality that seemed to wrap around my senses, demanding my attention. It was as if her words were woven with threads of enchantment, pulling me closer despite myself. I shuddered, my cock twitching at the sound of her voice, and I managed to nod, my throat tight with desire. “I have, Rebecca,” I said, my voice steady but soft, carrying the weight of a truth long unspoken. “This… this is what we want.”

Her smirk widened, and she set the papers down with deliberate care, her movements graceful and predatory. Rising from the chair, she began to undress, each motion a performance designed to captivate. The corset came first, unlaced with deft fingers, revealing her full, heavy breasts, their dusky nipples already hard with anticipation. Her leather pants followed, sliding down her legs to reveal a black thong that did little to conceal the slick, shaved lips of her pussy or the surprising length of her cock, which stood proud despite her petite stature. For someone so small, she was absurdly thicc—her hips wide and inviting, her ass round and firm, a perfect contrast to her narrow waist. The sight of her, naked and unashamed, sent a jolt of desire through me, my cock throbbing painfully.

“You like~?” she asked, her tone sultry, her hips swaying as she closed the distance between us. Her cock bobbed slightly with each step, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the way it glistened, already slick with precum. I smiled, my voice breathy as I replied, “Oh, I like it very much~.” The words felt like a confession, a surrender to the fire she’d ignited in me.

Shizuka, ever the eager one, let out a delighted squeal and launched herself at Rebecca, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a deep, sloppy kiss. Their lips met with a wet, hungry sound, tongues tangling as Shizuka moaned into Rebecca’s mouth. Rebecca’s hands found Shizuka’s ass, gripping it with fervor, her fingers digging into the soft flesh as she kneaded it possessively. The sight of them together, so raw and unfiltered, made my pussy clench, a bead of my own arousal dripping down my thigh.

I couldn’t stay on the sidelines any longer. Stepping forward, I pressed myself against Rebecca’s back, my cock sliding against the small of her back, my breasts squishing against the back of her head, enveloping her in my warmth. My hand found Shizuka’s other cheek, mirroring Rebecca’s grip, and together we trapped her between us, our bodies a tangle of heat and desire. Rebecca’s scent was stronger now, a potent mix of her arousal and that strange metallic tang, and it drove me wild. Shizuka broke the kiss, gasping for air, and I seized the moment, turning Rebecca’s head toward me. Our lips met, slow and deliberate, my tongue tracing the seam of her mouth before she took control, her tongue dominating mine in a dance that left me moaning. Her hand found my cock, her fingers wrapping around its thick length, stroking with a rhythm that made my knees weak. From Shizuka’s desperate whimpers, I knew Rebecca was doing the same to her, her hands working both of us with expert precision.

Rebecca pulled back, her lips glistening with our shared saliva, but her hands never stopped, her fingers slick with our precum as she continued to jerk us off. Then, with a wicked grin, she sank to her knees, her movements fluid and graceful. The sight of her there, her crimson lips inches from my cock, was almost too much to bear. She leaned forward, her tongue flicking out to tease the tip of my shaft, and I groaned, my hips bucking involuntarily. She took me into her mouth, her lips stretching around my girth, and I watched in awe as she deepthroated me, taking all twelve inches until her nose pressed against my pelvis. The sensation was overwhelming, her throat tight and hot, and I came with a cry, my cum spilling down her throat in thick, pulsing waves. No woman had ever taken me so completely, not even Shizuka.

Rebecca swallowed every drop, her eyes locked on mine, gleaming with satisfaction. Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Shizuka, her lips closing around Shizuka’s cock with the same hungry intensity. I watched, my own cock twitching at the sight of Rebecca’s throat bulging as she took Shizuka deeper, her lips stretched wide, her cheeks hollowing with each suck. Shizuka’s moans grew louder, her hands tangling in Rebecca’s hair as she came, her cum filling Rebecca’s mouth until it dribbled down her chin, thick and white.

Rebecca stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her grin wicked and triumphant. “Now~,” she purred, her voice dripping with promise, “let’s get to the fun, shall we~?” Before we could respond, she climbed onto Shizuka, wrapping her legs around her waist. Shizuka, caught off guard but eager, steadied her by gripping her ass, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh. “Now,” Rebecca continued, her tone teasing, “although I can handle a lot of punishment, even my pussy can’t take that massive cock of yours, Rika~. So, while Shizuka fucks my pussy, why don’t you fuck my ass~?”

My cock twitched at her words, and Shizuka let out a happy moan, her eyes wide with excitement. Without hesitation, she positioned herself, guiding her cock to Rebecca’s slick, pink pussy. The lips parted easily, glistening with arousal, and Shizuka slid inside with a groan, her cock disappearing into Rebecca’s tight heat. I stepped forward, my hands trembling as I spread Rebecca’s ass cheeks, revealing her tight, puckered sphincter. “Are you sure about this?” I asked, my voice laced with concern, though my cock was already throbbing at the thought.

“Of course, baby~,” Rebecca replied, her voice a sultry promise. “Anything for you two~.” Her words were a vow, carrying a weight that made my heart stutter. I nodded, aligning my cock with her asshole, and slowly, carefully, I pushed inside. Her sphincter resisted at first, tight and unyielding, but as I eased forward, inch by inch, she relaxed, her body welcoming me. The heat, the tightness, was unlike anything I’d ever felt, and I came twice before I was fully hilted, my cum slicking her passage, making each thrust smoother. I wanted to pause, to catch my breath, but Rebecca had other ideas. Still clinging to Shizuka, she began to move, raising and lowering herself, fucking herself on both our cocks. I moaned, my hands gripping her hips to keep us steady, my body trembling with the effort to stay upright.

There was no room for hesitation. With Rebecca setting the pace, I gave in, thrusting into her ass with abandon. The sensation was intoxicating, her tight hole gripping me, her body rocking between Shizuka and me. Shizuka’s moans mingled with mine, her cock plunging into Rebecca’s pussy, the wet, slapping sounds filling the room. Rebecca’s pussy juice dripped down Shizuka’s shaft, pooling on the floor, while my cum leaked from her ass, slick and warm. We were relentless, driven by a primal need, our bodies moving in perfect sync. I loved this—fucking the woman I’d come to adore alongside the woman I’d loved for so long. Rebecca was the center of our world, her body a canvas for our desire, her moans a symphony that spurred us on.

We changed positions countless times, each one more depraved than the last. Rebecca on her back, legs spread wide, her pussy and ass open for us to claim. Me behind her, fucking her ass while Shizuka sucked her cock, her throat bulging with each thrust. Shizuka riding Rebecca’s cock while I fucked her from behind, our bodies a tangle of sweat and cum. Hours passed, the room filled with the scent of sex—musky, sweet, and metallic. Rebecca took everything we gave her, her body yielding, her moans loud and unashamed. Her pussy was a slick, pulsing heat, her labia swollen and pink, her clit hard and sensitive. Her ass was tight, gripping me like a vice, and her cock, thick and veined, glistened with precum and our combined saliva.

By the end, Shizuka and I were spent, our bodies trembling with exhaustion, our cocks soft and our pussies dripping. Rebecca, somehow, was still vibrant, her energy boundless. She guided us to the bed, her touches gentle now, her hands smoothing over our sweat-slicked skin. She settled between us, her body warm and soft, her neon-green hair fanned out on the pillow. I reached for her, my hand finding hers, our fingers intertwining. “I love you, Rebecca,” I whispered, the words spilling from my heart, raw and true. Shizuka, her voice soft and sleepy, echoed me. “Me too, Rebecca. I love you~.”

Rebecca’s chuckle was warm, her lips brushing my forehead, then Shizuka’s. “I love you two, as well,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. “Sweet dreams~.” Her arms wrapped around us, pulling us close, and as I drifted into sleep, I dreamed of a world where Rebecca, Shizuka, and I were bound together, surrounded by others who loved her as fiercely as we did.

{Rebecca's POV}

Today was the fucking day. The countdown had ended—thirty days, exactly. I’d marked each one off with red ink like a prisoner with a plan, except I wasn’t escaping a cell. No, I was leveling up my life. The moment the timer ticked to zero, my account updated with a glorious chime—[220 Credits] deposited into my stash, bringing my total to a sweet [289 Credits]. I felt that rush, like getting off after holding it in all damn day. Orgasmic, really.

But before I could start buying shit from [The Waifu Catalog], I had to check which world I’d be hurled into next. A girl’s gotta plan, after all. I wasn’t about to step into some eldritch hellhole without at least reading the brochure.

I’d already bought [Pursued by Bear], which meant seven worlds were now unlocked for me. That sounded promising, right? I pulled up the list—and then came the letdown.

The choices? [How to Treat a Lady Knight Right], [Highschool DxD], [Star Wars], [Dr. Stone], [Dead by Daylight], and [Bionicle]. Yeah. That was it.

[Star Wars]? Never really gave a shit. Lightsabers are cool, sure, but that universe is a mess of politics, trauma, and sand. [Dr. Stone]? No thanks—I’m not trying to reinvent electricity with a stick and some rocks. [Dead by Daylight]? I like surviving, not getting stalked by immortal serial killers every night. [Bionicle]? That’s… a mystery. I’ve got no idea what the fuck that even is. And [How to Treat a Lady Knight Right]? Never read it, never watched it, barely knew what it was beyond the name.

That left [Highschool DxD]. Funny, really, since we were already stuck in [Highschool of the Dead]. What is it with these high schools and world-ending chaos?

But [DxD] wasn’t exactly safe, either. Gods, devils, fallen angels—and I hadn’t even finished the anime past season three. The light novels? Haven’t touched them. All I knew was that there was some Lovecraftian horror set to fuck the world sideways eventually. Still, there were perks. Big ones.

First, no more hiding. My supernatural bullshit? Totally normal in that world. Hell, it’s practically currency. Second, and let’s be real—there are a lot of women in [DxD] that could be [Captured], and I mean a lot.

Also? [Missions]. Tons of them. Sure, most had crazy requirements I couldn’t meet—yet. But Morgana—my little whisper in the dark—promised I could bend a few rules. Maybe even skip some entirely. Fae loopholes are a bitch when they’re against you, but when they’re on your side? Chef’s kiss.

So yeah, I chose [Highschool DxD]. It wasn’t like the others were gonna offer anything better. We weren’t leaving right away, though. Prep work came first.

I sat down with my lovers—Saeko, Rei, Yuriko, Kyoko, Rika, Shizuko, and Saya—and explained everything. The world, the risks, the rewards. I didn’t sugarcoat shit. My words don’t allow for that kind of dishonesty. I painted them the clearest picture I could, showing them the chaos and promise that [DxD] held.

At first, there were raised eyebrows and furrowed brows. Saeko was the first to speak—measured, like always. “Will we still be ourselves there?” she asked, gripping her katana like she was already imagining slicing through devils.

“You’ll be more,” I told her honestly. “But it won’t come free. We’ll need strength. Patience. And I’ll buy you [Template Stacking] as soon as I can.” That seemed to settle her.

Rei curled into me, warm and soft despite her sharp eyes. “You promise?”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” And that was the truth.

Kyoko and Yuriko exchanged glances, silently weighing the risks. Rika leaned on Shizuko, both of them whispering before nodding in tandem. Saya tapped away on her tablet, already searching for any references she could dig up on the world.

With everyone on board, we moved into action.

Shizuko and Rei documented every single formula and trick they’d learned about treating injuries—down to the last milligram of morphine or how to wrap a sprained wrist with duct tape and gauze. Their notes filled three notebooks and a backup hard drive. Just in case.

Kyoko performed maintenance on the Humvee like it was a sacred ritual. “She’s ready,” she told me with a smirk. “Whoever uses her next won’t find her lacking.”

Yuriko arranged for someone competent to take over our leadership role. Who exactly she convinced, I don’t know, but when she came back, she was smug as hell. “They’ll manage,” she said. “They’ll live. That’s enough.”

Rei, Saya, and Saeko each wrote heartfelt letters to Takeshi and Kohta. No lies, no pretty words to soften the truth. Just honesty. “We’re not abandoning you,” Saya’s letter said. “We’re chasing a future. One where we don’t just survive. We thrive.”

Me? I hunted. One last time. I took my gun, my blade, and every ounce of anger and purpose I had, and I slaughtered as many of the undead fuckers as I could. No hesitation. No mercy. I moved through the streets like a storm in boots, giving the survivors one final gift.

A little less death in their world.

When night fell, we gathered on the roof of the estate. The stars were out, cold and distant, and we stood under them like pilgrims at the edge of salvation.

Saeko leaned into me, her forehead against mine. “Will we still be together there?”

“As long as you’ll have me.”

She kissed me. Not desperate. Just sure.

Rei wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’m scared.” she admitted.

“Me too,” I said. “But I’d rather face monsters with you than live safely without.”

Shizuko ran her fingers through my hair, gently tugging like she always did when she wanted attention. “Don’t forget us. Even if things change.”

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

Yuriko pulled me aside. Her tone was clipped but not unkind. “We’ve built something good here. Let’s not ruin it chasing ghosts.”

I met her gaze. “I’m not chasing ghosts. I’m building empires.”

Kyoko laughed at that. “Of course you are.”

We picked out our [Missions] together—ones that played to our strengths. I fronted the [Credits] for some basic [Perks], spreading the upgrades evenly. Nothing fancy. Not yet. But enough to give us a fighting chance.

And when it was done—when the final clicks were made and the last of the goodbyes were whispered—I pulled up [The Waifu Catalog] again. My cybernetic eyes lit up, the interface glowing like a digital prayer.

[Highschool DxD].

I stared at the prompt. Breathed in. Felt the weight of the world we were about to leave behind settle in my chest—and then lift.

My finger moved. A mental press. A choice made.

One minute, we were there.

The next, we weren’t.

Chapter Text

{These images aren't mine. They're just here to fuel our imaginations.}

[Rebecca]

[Hayashi Kyoko]

[Miyamoto Rei]

[Busujima Saeko]

[Takagi Saya]

[Takagi Yuriko]

[Marikawa Shizuka]

[Minami Rika]

[Maresato Alice & Zeke]

{Missions}

Bindings? Who needs them?  by Sympathetic12

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

"Well, that was a doozy." Shizuka sighed, wobbling slightly as the last of the teleportation dizziness faded. She blinked slowly, adjusting to the new environment around us.

"It wasn't so bad." Kyoko added coolly, brushing phantom dust from her shoulder like it was second nature. She took a few measured steps forward, her heels clicking lightly against the polished wooden floor.

Stretching my back until something popped with a satisfying crack, I took in our surroundings. We had landed in what looked like an oversized Victorian living room—a space out of time, ornate and intimidating. Velvet drapes fell like waterfalls from high windows, and everything reeked of antique opulence.

"This place is nice," Yuriko remarked, her eyes scanning the fine craftsmanship with something close to nostalgia. She'd grown up in a mansion like this, one clearly styled after the same era. Her voice had a distant warmth to it, like she wasn’t just observing the decor, but remembering it.

I stepped toward the coffee table, where a neat stack of papers sat waiting like a trap. "Huh. Is this what I think it is?" I muttered under my breath, already suspecting the answer.

Curiosity piqued, I picked up the top page and, yep—there it was: our [Paper Trail]. Or at least a summarized version of it. Every sheet radiated some weird signature, like the paper itself had memory. That might’ve been [Universal Calibration II] at work. Somehow, that and [Paper Trail] managed to sync in just the right way to slot me into one of the missions I’d been eyeing. Not that I understood the how. Whatever, I wasn’t about to complain.

I grabbed the one with my name first and handed out the rest without a word, like a teacher giving back graded tests. Some of the girls murmured thanks or raised their brows in curiosity, but the room was largely quiet as everyone started reading.

Mine hit like a sucker punch dressed in silk gloves. Apparently, I was now the Heir of the Glaysa-Labolas House. Why? Because my younger brother, Zephidor Glaysa-Labolas, fucked up hard. The dumbass forced Sairarog into a Rating Game, lost, and got himself disowned. Zekram Bael had twisted the knife by leaning on my “father,” and boom—I was now next in line.

Also, apparently I had a little sister—one Iryuka Glaysa-Labolas—who looked up to me. That detail felt strange, warm even, like an ember in an otherwise cold fire.

But here’s the kicker: despite being the eldest, I hadn’t originally been in line for heirship. Reason one? I was female. And reason two—the real jaw-dropper—was that I was adopted.

No one but my "parents" knew. I had been found in a pod, tucked away in the ruins of an ancient civilization, like some cliché waiting to bloom. They believed I was a remnant of an extinct Pillar House. Their plan? Breed me like cattle.

But then Falbium Asmodeus—yes, that Falbium—found out I existed. Big bro didn’t take kindly to the idea of his newly discovered baby sister being treated like a womb with legs. He stepped in. Stopped them. Took me under his wing.

From then on, I had food, shelter, clothes—the basics—but the people who raised me never played the part of loving parents. They tolerated me. Gave me a bed, not affection. But my secret stayed hidden. Falbium didn’t want to deal with the inevitable political shitstorm, so I stayed a ghost in the system until now. Too lazy to actually play Satan. 

Now, though? Now I was the heir. And they couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

"Well, this is really just a flimsy excuse." I said flatly, setting the page down on the table like it had insulted me. I’d make a note to burn it later. Ash was more honest than ink.

Next up, I took a look at everyone else’s [Paper Trail]. Rei, Saya, and Saeko were all students enrolled in Kuoh Academy’s college division. Their profiles painted familiar but deeper portraits. Rei’s spearmanship wasn’t just high school club-tier—it was polished, almost martial. Saya’s intellect had caught attention beyond her field; she was being scouted for actual scientists for research. Saeko, of course, was Saeko. Graceful. Dangerous. Loyal. Her swordsmanship had drawn my interest the moment I’d first laid eyes on her.

They all had potential. They weren’t just potential Peerage members—they were already mine in spirit.

As for Shizuko, Yuriko, Kyoko, and Rika, they had been employees in one of my “mother’s” businesses on the human side. Each of them had climbed the ranks with ruthless elegance, outperforming every expectation. That caught my attention. That earned them my invitation.

Alice’s [Paper Trail] was the simplest of them all. I adopted her because she was cute. Vulnerable. Recently orphaned. And I’d seen a bit of myself in her. Cut and dry. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

None of them were in my Peerage yet. I hadn’t gotten my Evil Pieces. There was still a month to go. Coincidentally—or perhaps not—that was also when Canon began.

"Well," I clapped my hands together lightly, a lazy grin creeping over my lips. "We’ve got a month to train up. Let’s not waste it."

I pulled up [The Waifu Catalog], flipping through the pages like a priest with a sacred tome. I had enough [Credits] to buy everyone a [Template Stacking I]. That would give them the power needed to survive what was coming.

And if people started asking why regular-ass humans suddenly had powers? Easy. Sacred Gears. Not a lie. Just... a convenient truth.

Later, we settled in. Saeko and I sat near the fireplace, the flickering glow casting warm shadows on her face. She leaned her head against my shoulder, silent. Comfortable. My hand brushed her thigh, absent-minded and tender.

"You always this quiet when you’re content?" I asked, tilting my head to glance at her.

"Only when I feel safe," she replied, voice barely above a whisper. "Only with you."

That stopped me cold. Not because I was surprised—but because it was rare for her to say things like that aloud. I kissed the top of her head, fingers lacing with hers.

Yuriko passed by carrying a tray with tea. She raised a brow, amused. "Getting cozy already? We’ve only just arrived."

"Sue me," I said, smirking. "I'm not made of stone."

Rei was sprawled out on the couch across from us, legs over Saya’s lap as they bickered softly about something academic. The tension between them had always felt like it could spark into a full-on debate or a kiss at any moment.

Rika was fiddling with a modified sidearm nearby, clearly already thinking of battle drills. Kyoko sat beside her, calm and observant, reading what looked like a spellbook she must have bought in preparation.

Alice had curled up on my lap not long after dinner. She was asleep now, tiny fists clutching my jacket. I held her gently, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

She stirred. "Mama...?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. I’m here."

"Are we gonna be okay?"

I hesitated for a heartbeat. Then smiled. "We’ll be better than okay. We’re going to be fucking awesome."

And that, at least, was the truth.

I looked around at them—all of them. My family. My power. My legacy. And whatever came next, we were facing it together.

The [Waifu Catalog] flickered open again beside me, softly glowing. One month.

Time to begin.

After a bit of back-and-forth, and more than one wine-fueled debate over just who got which [Template Stacking], we finally came to a conclusion that, surprisingly, everyone was happy with. Rei would take [Artoria Pendragon (Lancer)(Nasuverse)]—which made sense, given her prowess with a spear and that unshakable will of hers. Saeko was granted [Miyamoto Musashi (Nasuverse)], and honestly, nobody contested it. She just... fit. Calm, elegant, deadly. Alice, my sweet little star, received [Medea (Lily)(Nasuverse)]. It made sense. She’d always been gentle, quiet, but her eyes saw everything, and her hands had a natural gift for healing. Yuriko, fierce and graceful, would wield the power of [Beast II: Tiamat (Nasuverse)], an ancient strength that mirrored the storm always brewing beneath her soft smile. Saya, my lovely, intelligent little spitfire, had grown mischievous with her hands on [Tamamo-no-Mae (Nasuverse)], letting her to become freer.

Rika, reliable and sharp-tongued, got [Archerko (Nasuverse)]. There was a joy in her eyes when she found out—it was as if the idea of wielding precision-based chaos tickled something mischievous inside her. Shizuka, kind and scatterbrained though she often appeared, would be given [Sesshōin Kiara (Nasuverse)]. Dangerous. Overwhelming. And yet, somehow fitting for someone who had learned to hide her own darkness beneath a nurse’s gentle touch. As for Kyoko, she ended up with [Arcueid Brunestud (Nasuverse)]—a surprise to her, maybe, but not to the rest of us. There was a primal power in her, something ancient and wild that she hadn’t yet come to terms with.

Honestly, I was fucking relieved. Every [Template Stacking] came with massive potential, and while I was more than a little jealous, I couldn’t bring myself to care in a bitter way. I wanted them strong. I needed them strong. My lovers. My daughter. My family. If they could stand tall, fight for themselves, then I wouldn't be the only powerhouse in my [Retinue]. I could stop worrying about being the last wall between them and the abyss.

Once the [Templates] had been chosen, we officially began training in earnest. There were no days off. No excuses. Just pain, progress, and purpose. Being the Heir of House Glaysa-Labolas came with some perks, even if my so-called "parents" wanted nothing to do with me after my brother forbade them from laying even a finger on me. That man’s word was law, and they knew it. They tried to deny my requests with half-baked excuses, but the moment I invoked Falbium’s name, they buckled. It was amusing, really, watching them squirm under the weight of his authority.

Even so, I didn’t abuse the privilege. I asked for things that made sense—no Phoenix Tears or extravagant boons. Just herbs, supplies, and tools to keep us in peak shape. Muscle salves, calming roots, balm that worked miracles on bruised skin. We were going to be grinding ourselves into the dirt every day, and I wasn’t about to let that work go to waste due to something as petty as untreated soreness.

Choosing [Medea (Lily)] for Alice was also a calculated move. I’m not a Highschool DxD devil. No healing through post-coital cuddling for me, unfortunately enough. With Alice as our dedicated healer, we had someone to stitch us back together when the training got too brutal, someone to soften the edge of constant strain. She earned her share of affection because of it—not just from me, but from everyone. She’d blush when they hugged her, get overwhelmed by praise, and still smile through it all. She was so loved. Still, as much as I trusted her, I’d never bring Alice into a battlefield. No child should carry that weight.

For a month, we trained until we dropped. And then we kept going.

There were nights when I had to carry them to bed, one by one. Nights where Rei’s fingers bled through the bandages, where Saeko collapsed mid-swing and still tried to get back up. Nights where Yuriko’s smile trembled from exhaustion, and Kyoko let herself cry into my chest because she didn’t want to be weak anymore. And I was there. Always there. Whispering encouragement, kissing scraped knuckles, holding them close when it got too much. It hurt, watching them break themselves for strength, but it was beautiful, too.

We didn’t just train. Of course we didn’t. Life’s not all blood and sweat and discipline. There were lazy mornings in the sun, tangled together in silk sheets. Dates—simple, sweet, indulgent. We went to the lakeside and skipped stones, stole food from market stalls with winks and laughter, danced in the rain because we could. Sometimes I went out with Saeko alone, and she would rest her head on my shoulder, telling me about swordsmanship philosophies while holding my hand like it was sacred. Other times, Rei would wrap her arms around me from behind and murmur that she felt safe, and I knew I would kill worlds to keep it that way.

Shizuka would fall asleep on my lap while pretending she was just resting her eyes. Rika liked to challenge me in games—verbal, physical, or strategic—and though she’d never admit it, she was always happier when I let her win. Yuriko brought me flowers she picked herself, each one more poisonous than the last, because, in her words, “they match my love for you—lethal but pretty.”

Kyoko was still learning to let go. She’d peek at us from corners, unsure if she should join in. But one night, I just pulled her into our pile of tangled limbs and whispered that she belonged here too. After that, she never hesitated again.

And Saya—gods, Saya. She pretended to be annoyed with all of it, called it "horny drama nonsense," but she was always the one who made sure we had food, rest, and structure. The quiet glue that kept us grounded.

We were growing strong, yes. But we were growing closer too. It wasn’t just me connecting with them. They started connecting with each other. I didn’t want them bound to only me. Love, in all its messy, powerful forms, should be shared. So I encouraged them. When Rei shyly asked if she could take Yuriko out for a moonlit walk, I said yes. When Saeko and Kyoko started sparring and ended up tangled in each other’s limbs, I turned away with a knowing smile. When Rika kissed Shizuka good morning, no one batted an eye.

Alice, though... Alice was different. She was my daughter. My little star. And every night, she’d crawl into bed with me and curl up beneath my arm, whispering about her dreams, asking me questions I didn’t always have answers to. She’d hum when I brushed her hair, fall asleep mid-sentence, clutching my shirt like it was the only safe place in the world. I’d give up everything to protect her.

I also tried connecting with my sister, Iryuka. Sweet, quiet Iryuka, who hid her emotions behind polite smiles and stifled giggles. She was calm on the surface, but there was something almost childlike in how excited she got when I brought her little trinkets or invited her to tea. She’s the kind of person who hugs you too tightly and then apologizes for it, even though you never wanted her to let go.

I also got to talk more with my older brother, and that’s when I noticed something strange.

Sirzechs Lucifer? Siscon. Serafall Leviathan? Siscon. Falbium Asmodeus? Now also a siscon, thanks to the bizarre effects of [Universal Calibration II] and [Paper Trail]. I swear, if Ajuka Beelzebub ever gains a little sister, we’re going to need to coin a new term for this supernatural obsession. Not that I’m judging. They’re just weirdly protective in the way only overpowered siblings can be.

Still, it made me feel... oddly safe. Like there was someone up there who wouldn’t let the world swallow me whole if I failed.

And then the month ended.

We had worked ourselves to the bone, every single day. Our muscles ached, our weapons had seen better days, and our hearts were braver than they’d ever been. There was no telling what would come next, no guarantees in this chaotic, blood-soaked world. But we were ready. We were strong. We were together.

The time had come.

{Rei's POV}

I never would have thought my life would lead me here—wrapped up in the arms of a woman who, by all definitions, shouldn’t even exist in this world. A woman who could shatter cities with a smile and rebuild hearts with a whisper. A woman who happened to be an interdimensional slaver, though she never really treated us like property. We were her lovers, her companions, her equals—just bound to her in ways deeper than most would ever understand.

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be in love with someone like Rebecca, I might’ve laughed or maybe just ignored them. Back then, I had simple dreams—getting a job at a local dojo, passing on my spearmanship, maybe opening a small training hall for girls who wanted to defend themselves. Life was manageable. Predictable.

Then the world went to shit.

It started with the dead refusing to stay dead. One bite and you were as good as gone. My boyfriend, Hiashi, got bit during one of the early waves. I froze. I knew what had to be done, but I couldn’t raise my weapon. Couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes as I ended his life. My old crush, Takeshi, stepped in. He did what I couldn’t. There was blood. Silence. Then movement.

We ran.

From there, everything blurred. Chaos wove us together. We found shelter with fellow college students, a couple of teachers, and one strange woman with mismatched eyes and an even stranger sense of humor. Rebecca. She radiated danger and allure in equal parts. My first instinct was to keep an eye on her. She didn’t belong, and I wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t from our world, but I didn't know it then.

But then she saved my life.

Again.

And again.

She was always there—when the walkers closed in, when we needed a plan, when I needed someone to tell me what the hell to do. There was something about the way she gave orders, not like a tyrant but like someone who trusted us to rise to the occasion. She didn’t bark; she invited. And I—maybe I wanted to be told what to do. Maybe I needed that structure to hold myself together.

Somewhere along the way, that need shifted. Grew. Became something far more terrifying and beautiful. I fell in love.

Rebecca didn’t just stop with me, though. Her heart—if it could be called that—was bigger than anything I’d known. Greedy in the best way, drawing in not just me but others: Saya with her fire, Saeko with her Lust for blood, Kyoko with her calm, Yuriko with her deep quiet strength, and of course, Shizuka and Rika—the two women who had already shared her bed before any of us knew the game we were playing.

But Rebecca wasn’t a tyrant. She didn’t treat us like toys. She was like the sun. She didn’t choose one flower to shine on. Her warmth reached all of us, and we bloomed because of it.

When we finally learned the truth—that Rebecca wasn’t from this world, that she came from some other dimension—we were shocked. I think Saya had a meltdown for a solid hour. But I got over it fast. I mean, we’d already accepted that the dead walked. Was it really that hard to believe in other worlds?

Rebecca didn’t coddle us. She made sure we understood where we were going—the world of [Highschool DxD], a universe where strength meant survival and devils, angels, and gods played chess with human lives. But she gave us tools—abilities, powers, potential. The means to not just survive, but thrive. And I worked. Trained. Fought. Because I knew I wanted to walk beside her, not behind.

Things changed. Initially, we believed we were hers and hers alone, except for Shizuka and Rika, who had that veteran air of experience. But then Rebecca gathered us one night and explained—clear and open as ever—that we could love each other too. That this thing between us wasn’t about exclusivity. We were a polycule, a community, a family. Calling it a harem was easier, sure, but it didn’t quite capture the truth of what we had.

Since then, I’ve shared more than kisses with Saya, Saeko and Rei. I’ve tangled limbs with Shizuka and Rika in heated, frenzied nights that left me gasping, worshiping their bodies while they took mine in turn. Gods, those nights. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way Rika bites just enough to leave a mark or how Shizuka can be so deceptively strong when she’s serious. But none of it compared to Rebecca. Somehow, some damn way, she was better. More skilled. More passionate. Like she knew our bodies better than we did ourselves.

There were nights she would take us, one after the other, not out of obligation, but desire. Pure, burning, greedy desire. We gave ourselves freely, and she devoured us with that same smile—half kind, half wicked.

And yet, she was tender. There were softer nights. Nights where she would run her fingers through my hair while I rested on her chest. Nights when she would whisper stories from the other worlds she’d seen, the people she’d been, the things we could do—all spoken in a way that never felt quite like lies but more like truths twisted into riddles. Rebecca never lied. She just danced around the truth like it was a lover, teasing, pulling, always leaving just enough out to make you wonder.

I remember one night in particular. We were resting after a hard training session. Saya had bruises. I had blisters. Kyoko had been unusually quiet. Rebecca sat in the middle of our little circle, arms wide, inviting. We collapsed against her, one after another, until we were a tangle of limbs and soft breaths. She kissed each of us on the forehead, murmuring words in a language I didn’t understand but still somehow soothed me. It felt like a blessing. Like a promise.

Then there’s Alice.

Rebecca’s daughter. A strange, bright spark in our lives. Sometimes too serious for her age, sometimes too curious for her own good. She wasn’t born of Rebecca’s body, but no one could deny she was her daughter in spirit. She called me Aunt Rei, and it always warmed me when she did. I helped her train sometimes, though she preferred Yuriko or Kyoko’s more patient methods. Still, there were moments, rare and precious, when she would fall asleep on my lap during watch, murmuring sleepily about how strong she would be someday.

Rebecca treated her gently, but never coddled. She expected strength, demanded growth, but always with love. And gods help anyone who even looked at Alice wrong. The last man who tried to snatch her while we were out to scavenge back in our old world didn’t even get the chance to scream. Rebecca tore through the air, her blade singing, and by the time the body hit the ground, the man’s head had rolled a dozen paces away.

We didn’t talk about it. We didn’t need to.

I think we all knew that whatever powers she possessed, whatever truths she carried deep within her—Rebecca was ours. And we were hers. Not in chains, but by choice. Fierce, burning, devoted choice.

We were learning. Training. Growing stronger. Each of us had power now—fragments of divine energy, gifts that could one day destroy armies. But we were also building something else. A home. A place where touch wasn’t just sex, but connection. Where love wasn’t just about Rebecca, but about each other.

I had kissed Kyoko beneath the stars once, her lips trembling as she told me about the family she’d lost. I held Yuriko while she wept quietly in the rain. I laughed with Saeko while covered in bruises. I sparred with Saya until we collapsed laughing, bruised and breathless. I spent nights talking with Shizuka about the absurdity of it all, and mornings waking with Rika beside me, her fingers tracing idle circles over my skin.

And Rebecca… she was always there.

Whether holding us, teasing us, claiming us, or simply watching with those mismatched eyes—silent, knowing, eternal.

And despite everything—the blood, the apocalypse, the otherworldly politics, the looming threats from devils and dragons—my heart feels full.

Life is good.

Better than I could’ve ever imagined.

Definitely great.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

It was about two days in when I realized a massive problem—one that could unravel everything I'd built up until now. Since I hadn’t taken [Extra] as a member of House Leviathan, or as a true Pureblood Devil, I didn’t have any actual Devil Magic. That was...unacceptable. More than that—it was dangerous. It meant I had a glaring weakness that would make me stick out like a sore thumb among the other nobles. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my time navigating politics, as little as my experience was, backstabbing, and blood, it’s that the worst thing to be is noticeable.

I hated it. Hated the idea of taking a [Loan], of putting myself in debt for something that should’ve been a given. But I didn’t have a choice. Pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford—not here, not now. So I took it. A fat fucking [Loan] just so I could buy [Template Stacking I: Serafall Leviathan] and [Added Potential: Devil Magic]. Painful as it was, it was necessary. If I didn’t at least have the right kind of power signature, the Devils would’ve sniffed me out like a hound catching a scent. And I was not about to be devoured.

All I could do now was hope that the [Mission] I picked would pan out, because if it didn’t, then I’d just dumped a ridiculous amount of [Credits] into a pit. Not completely pointless, I suppose. I mean, I still had the power boost, but damn—it would’ve been one hell of a waste.

I’d done my research. Studied how Devils got their Evil Pieces, how the system judged them. The first hurdle? Power. You had to be High-Class, at the very least. Didn’t matter if you were smart or charming or if you could give a decent blowjob—you needed to be strong. That rule applied to Reincarnated Devils, mostly. Purebloods had more wiggle room. If you were the Heir to a major house, that alone could bypass a few limitations. They didn’t want a house’s future leader looking like a weakling, after all. Even if you were Mid-Class, they’d let it slide. Appearances mattered more than logic in their twisted little hierarchy.

Luckily, I had that part covered. House Glaysa-Lobalos, even if only in name, came with certain privileges. I wouldn’t have to jump through quite as many flaming hoops. But strength still mattered, and if they tested my magical aptitude and found it lacking? I’d be fucking humiliated. Worse, they'd question my lineage, which I didn't want them doing.

See, Devil strength, especially in these evaluations, relied heavily on how much magic you had swimming in your veins. It wasn’t the only thing that mattered, but it was the most obvious and easiest to measure. Without the proper reserves, I'd come across as a Low-Class devil cosplaying as nobility.

After that initial check, there were more tests. A whole damn parade of them, mostly around etiquette and conduct. Because apparently, even hellspawn needed to know which fork went with what course. Thankfully, Yuriko had my back. She was everything a noblewoman should be—graceful, poised, terrifying in heels—and she drilled me until I could bow, curtsy, and sip tea without looking like a back-alley thug. Not that I ever minded the thug image, but in this case, it’d get me killed.

The final and most important hurdle? Practical Combat. The Devils believed that power was the only real currency. That a leader who couldn’t fight wasn’t worth following. And I agreed, in my own way. If you can’t protect your own, then what good are you?

Lose the test, and you’d be forced to retake it three months later. That sounded fine, but the real kicker was that failing would still give you a pass on the earlier written and magic-based tests for an entire year. A small mercy, but I wasn’t about to count on it.

So, I trained. Every single day for that whole month, I worked my ass off. I refined my new Devil Magic, learned the intricacies of [Template Stacking I: Serafall Leviathan], pushed my Chakra to new heights, and molded my Feral Fists—a brutal, primal twist on Hinata’s Gentle Fists—into something uniquely mine. Blood, sweat, and maybe a few tears went into those sessions. I wasn’t alone, though.

Saeko was there, every morning, blades flashing, always ready to spar. We barely needed words—just the rhythm of combat between us. Her eyes always sharpened when she pushed me further than I thought I could go, and I came to rely on that.

Rei, ever observant, was my second pair of eyes. She noticed things I didn’t—openings in my stance, flaws in my breathing, moments where my power faltered. At night, when the training was over and my body ached in every corner, she’d lie beside me, fingers tracing my scars, grounding me with quiet kisses and long silences.

Yuriko stayed strict. Her method of support came with a sharp tongue and harsher drills, especially in public. But when the others weren’t looking, she'd sneak in little reassurances—like the brush of her fingers against my knuckles or whispered reminders that I was doing fine, that she was proud.

Kyoko and Rika focused on the logistical side—supplements, battle strategy, study materials for the written exams. Rika took delight in turning everything into some sort of tactical puzzle, while Kyoko kept me human. She'd drag me away from the books when I pushed too hard, remind me to breathe, to laugh. The nights I couldn’t sleep, she’d hum lullabies I didn’t recognize, but felt old in my bones.

Shizuka, for all her airheaded charm, proved herself an invaluable combat medic. She kept my body functioning despite the toll I was putting it through. And Saya—god, Saya—she kept my mind sharp. Mock debates, intellectual traps, moral conundrums. She tested my resolve in ways no one else dared to.

And then there was Alice. My daughter, my little spark of light in this pit of devils. She didn’t understand everything I was doing, but she watched me with wide, adoring eyes. Her trust was absolute. Unwavering. I’d find drawings in my boots, little stick figures with my green hair and devil wings, fighting off monsters with glowing fists. They reminded me why I fought so hard.

Our nights were quiet things, soft moments in the chaos. I don't always say I loved them—not in words. But they knew. In the way I held them, in the way I touched their skin like it was sacred. When Saeko curled against my side, sword calluses brushing my ribs. When Rei laid her head on my chest and traced my tattoos with a lazy finger. When Yuriko kissed my temple after correcting my posture for the tenth time in a day. When Shizuka and Rika fell asleep curled together beside me. When Kyoko tucked us in with a goofy grin. When Saya whispered strange philosophies that somehow always calmed me.

And Alice. Always Alice. Her small arms around my neck, her laughter echoing through the halls. The way she called me “Mommy” like it was the most powerful word in the world.

I couldn’t afford to fail—not just for me, but for them.

So when the month ended, and the practical exams began, I didn’t walk in with fear. I stepped into that arena ready.

We were ready.

{Serena's POV}

"Are you sure, Ajuka?" I asked, crossing my arms as I studied her carefully. My closest friend, confidant, and occasional headache, Ajuka Beelzebub, gave me that flat look of hers—equal parts exasperated and threatening—behind her ever-analyzing glasses.

"For the thirty-sixth time, Serena," she replied dryly, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear as she adjusted those same glasses with a sharp tap of her finger. "I am confident that she is, in fact, an anomaly."

I sighed. Not because I doubted her, but because I knew her well enough to recognize when her patience was on the verge of snapping. Ajuka didn’t make idle statements. If she said someone was an anomaly, then by all logic and deduction, they absolutely were. Still, I couldn’t help the tension in my shoulders. "Alright. Have you made any progress on the changes in Falbium’s sister and her future peerage members?"

It had only been a week since Ajuka had summoned the Four Maou to a private, impromptu meeting—something she rarely did. She didn’t enjoy unnecessary drama, unlike some of us. The moment she called for us, we all knew something significant had happened.

She had barely waited for everyone to be seated before launching into a detailed explanation, her voice sharp with excitement. According to her, something—or someone—had appeared in the Underworld that was affecting phenomena in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Ajuka’s [Kankara Formula] could manipulate phenomena through devil magic and mathematics, and it was already absurdly powerful. The very idea that something could affect phenomena without the Formula's input? That was unheard of.

I remembered the way her eyes lit up with curiosity that night. Most people would have been alarmed. Hell, I was. But Ajuka? She was thrilled. For a woman whose intellect dwarfed most of existence, the unknown was practically erotic.

Still, I hadn’t expected the anomaly to be her. Rebecca Glaysa-Lobalas. A girl Falbium had taken in as a little sister—one who had been discovered under extremely fucked up circumstances, frozen and preserved by ancient magic. She was thought to be a descendant from a lost Pillar House, and some fanatics, her "parents", had wanted to use her as a broodmare. It was horrifying. Falbium, for all his laziness, wanted to wipe them out, but he was still his own blood and flesh. And then he forced them to adopt the girl, since he was still a lazy ass.

We knew that part. What we didn’t expect was for the anomaly Ajuka detected to originate from her. Naturally, our first assumption was possession. Perhaps some cursed artifact or parasite? So, we watched. From a distance.

At first glance, there wasn’t much. Sure, the Sacred Gears belonging to the girls training with her—who she claimed would be her future Peerage, were odd. Still, nothing overtly malicious. Just... off.

The girl herself didn’t seem all that strange. Yes, her use of something like Senjutsu caught our attention. But Ajuka had quickly pointed out that it wasn’t quite Senjutsu—more like a cousin, maybe even a mimic. A little too elegant, a little too precise at times, but it does show some aggression multiple times, but Ajuka clarified that it was from Rebecca herself, and not from the power.

We monitored their activities closely, logging every interaction, every training regimen. And what did we find?

Nothing.

Nothing sinister, anyway. Just a small polycule of young women deeply in love with each other. It was disarming, honestly. Rebecca and her lovers—Saeko, Rei, Yuriko, Kyoko, Rika, Shizuka, and Saya—trained together, ate together, rested together. They laughed. They touched. They supported one another with a tenderness that tugged at even my immortal heart.

Then there was Alice, her daughter. A child not of blood but of soul, clinging to Rebecca with unwavering affection. Rebecca was fiercely protective, but never smothering. She always encouraged Alice to be brave, to try again when she stumbled, to believe in her own strength.

In quiet moments, when the moonlight draped their training yard in silver, I'd seen Rebecca sit with Saeko and brush her hair while the swordswoman meditated. I watched as Rei leaned into her side, half-asleep, with Rebecca stroking her back absentmindedly. I'd seen Yuriko sneak kisses onto Rebecca’s neck while pretending to practice footwork, only to be caught and pulled into a gentle embrace.

Saya and Kyoko would argue sometimes—about drills, food, and who loved Rebecca more—but it always ended with both of them clinging to her like lifelines. Shizuka, the oldest among them, had the softest presence, her hands always checking for bruises or fatigue, treating Rebecca with a reverence that reminded me of high priestesses from the old days.

And Rika—sharp-eyed, fierce-tongued—acted like she didn’t care, but never left Rebecca’s side unless ordered. She watched over them like a loyal knight, fierce and uncompromising.

The whole thing was so adorable it made my fangs ache.

"Well," I said, stretching my back and wings a little, "it seems we’re not getting anything useful just from peeking. I think it’s time we engage."

Ajuka's eyes flicked toward me, unreadable. "Not yet, Serena. It’s better that I continue my direct observation. If I find no evidence of corruption or danger by the time she gets to receive her Evil Pieces, then—and only then—do we investigate from within."

I sighed again, but nodded. Ajuka had never steered us wrong. And if she wanted more time, I’d give it to her. "Fine. A few more weeks. But if I find out you’re just stalling to keep watching her little cuddle sessions, I’m dragging you into the public eye for a full week of charity speeches."

Ajuka didn’t even flinch. "Deal."

With that settled, I gave her a casual wave and summoned my teleportation circle. The familiar warmth of the Gremory Estate called me back, and as I dissolved into magic, I allowed myself one final thought:

My sweet little [Rias-chan] deserved to be loved like that too.

Later that night, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, watching the footage our observers had gathered. Not for surveillance, not anymore. Now I just watched to feel something.

Rebecca sat by a fire, her arms wrapped around both Kyoko and Saya, humming a tune I didn't recognize but found oddly haunting. The others lay nearby—Rika polishing a gun, Shizuka reading medical reports, Saeko carving something into a small block of wood.

Alice sat in Rebecca’s lap, holding onto her with sleepy affection.

“Mommy,” Alice whispered, “will we always be together?”

Rebecca kissed the top of her head, her voice impossibly soft. “So long as the stars burn, sweetheart.”

She wasn’t lying. I could tell. Something in her tone, some unspoken truth beneath the words.

And then, more softly still, she added, "Even if the stars stop, I’ll find a way."

The next morning, Ajuka sent me a file. Detailed, annotated, thorough as always. In short: no hostile activity. No energy patterns consistent with possession, corruption, or dark influence. And no manipulation from the anomaly itself.

Just... changes. Subtle shifts in the local structure of reality whenever Rebecca exerted her will. Nothing destructive. Almost like reality made room for her.

Ajuka’s summary concluded with a single line: "Either she is unaware of her influence... or she is playing a game far more intricate than any we’ve seen."

I frowned.

If this was a game, Rebecca was playing it beautifully. And her lovers? Willing participants.

There were questions yet to be answered. Where did her power come from? Why did it not register as divine, infernal, or anything in between? Why did her words... ring true in a way most mortals never managed?

But as I stared at the screen, watching Rebecca sing softly to Alice while Saeko laid her head in her lap, I couldn’t help but feel it again:

Tenderness.

Whatever else she was, this girl—this anomaly—was loved. Fiercely. Fully. And she loved in return with an honesty that felt... ancient.

Ajuka might still have her doubts, but I was starting to believe.

Rebecca wasn’t a threat. She was a miracle.

I just hoped the world wouldn’t ruin her for it.

{Ajuka's POV}

I found no joy in lying to Serena, but it was necessary. A reluctant sin, justified by the weight of what I had uncovered. Rebecca wasn't merely an anomaly in our world—no, she was something else entirely. Something vast, otherworldly. She was a dimension hopper, an interloper molded and escorted by a being so powerful that even us Satans, with all our intelligence and skepticism, were fooled. This being had fabricated a life story so believable that we accepted her past as part of our reality, as if it had always been there.

And in a way, it was exhilarating.

To learn that a single woman could bend perception, reality, and memory itself to such a degree—it ignited something in me. Curiosity, yes, but also admiration. An intellectual fascination I hadn’t felt in centuries. She had infiltrated our history seamlessly. There were records, memories, conversations, photographs, all forged and yet feeling real. Even I, with my analytical mind, could not find a single thread out of place—until I began listening.

It started with the smallest of inconsistencies—phrases she used, references to events that never occurred in our world but had logic in some alternate one. I didn't confront her, not immediately. Instead, I tuned in to her private moments, using my powers to eavesdrop on her conversations with her lovers. And from those brief, stolen dialogues, I pieced together a portrait of the real Rebecca—one more complex and beautiful than I had anticipated.

She never said the truth outright, no. But the way she spoke, always careful with her words, deliberate in her honesty—there was a kind of grace to it. A fae-like dance, never quite lying, but never telling everything either. Each sentence she spoke carried the weight of multiple meanings, carefully balanced so no single interpretation could be wholly trusted. But I could read between the lines. I always could.

Only I knew what she truly was. And I kept it to myself. When Serena asked, I simply told her there was nothing wrong with Rebecca. That was true—there wasn’t. But I also left out the details. Details like her origin beyond dimensions, or how her very presence suggested our reality was just one of many. That she could shape perceptions not through spells, but by design. By nature. And if Serena ever found out, if she knew the truth, she’d have no choice—as a Satan, as a protector of balance—but to compel Rebecca to serve our interests. And that would ruin everything.

Rebecca wasn’t a pawn to be used. She was a marvel to be studied. A gift, wrapped in skin and secrets.

What fascinated me most, however, was her growth. She could become exponentially stronger, endlessly so, and all she needed was to fulfill certain conditions—objectives I hadn’t yet fully deciphered. But I had managed to pick up on two: one, completing specific tasks that were never discussed in detail, and two, “capturing” women. That word—capture—she used it often. Always with an odd reverence, a softness. And always with consent.

I once overheard a conversation between her and Saeko. They were curled together, skin against skin, whispers trailing between kisses. Saeko, always the warrior, spoke of the battlefield as if it were a lover itself. But Rebecca listened—truly listened—with a kind of gentle presence I’ve rarely seen. Her fingers played absently with Saeko’s hair, and when she spoke, her voice held no judgment, only curiosity.

“You fight for strength,” Rebecca had said, brushing her lips along Saeko’s shoulder. “But I’ll fight for you.”

And Saeko melted.

I saw the same thing repeated with Rei. With Yuriko, her calm demeanor turned into shy smiles under Rebecca’s touch. Kyoko, who had once been stern and cold, now glowed in Rebecca’s presence, laughing more freely than ever. Rika, always skeptical, had lowered her guard one night while tending to a small wound on Rebecca’s shoulder, letting her lips linger just a second too long on bare skin. Shizuka, already smitten, had cried tears of joy when Rebecca gently cupped her cheeks and said, "You're not just beautiful. You're seen."

Even Saya, analytical and proud, had given in—her sharp tongue replaced by curious moans as she let Rebecca unravel her tension with gentle persistence. And through all this, there was Alice—Rebecca’s daughter. A child, bright-eyed and curious, who clung to Rebecca’s hand as if the world would disappear without it.

One night, I watched as Rebecca tucked Alice into bed. The girl had fallen asleep mid-sentence, still smiling. Rebecca leaned in and kissed her forehead, brushing a lock of hair away with that same tender expression she gave her lovers.

“My little star,” she whispered. “Shine as you please. I’ll never make you small.”

That’s when I knew—this woman, this impossible woman—was more than just a subject for my research. She was a phenomenon. A heartbeat in the shape of a woman. If she were to be dragged into the games of devils and angels before she was ready, before she reached her true potential, we’d be doing a disservice not just to her, but to the multiverse itself.

So I decided. I would protect her secret. I would shield her from Serena’s watchful eyes, from the Church’s suspicion, from the Underworld’s hunger. I would let her grow. And perhaps, I’d even lend her a hand.

After all, the stronger she became, the more I could learn from her. She mentioned a plan once—something about "capturing" Rias Gremory and her Peerage. At first, it sounded absurd. But then I realized: it wasn’t an invasion. It was an offering. A union.

If Rias were to fall under Rebecca’s orbit, it wouldn’t be coercion. It would be choice. Rebecca didn’t dominate her women; she adored them. Lifted them. And in return, they bloomed under her touch. It wasn’t conquest—it was salvation. Love, twisted in the way only devils and fae could twist it. But it was love, nonetheless.

Rias would be happy. Serena, seeing her sister finally cherished in a way no devil or angel ever had, would be happy. Rebecca would gain strength, and I—well, I’d get answers. Everyone would win.

A win-win-win-win situation, as the humans say.

Still, part of me wondered—was I justifying too much? Turning a blind eye to truths that could one day spiral beyond even my control? Maybe. But even as a Satan, I was not without selfishness. And Rebecca made me feel something rare. Not lust. Not even loyalty. But awe.

She was a mystery wrapped in affection. In the way she looked at each woman as if they were her world. In the way she listened to Saya rant about theory and chemistry with unfeigned curiosity. Or how she comforted Shizuka after a nightmare, never mocking, just holding her in silence until the trembling stopped.

I recall Yuriko once catching Rebecca gazing at them all, a faint, wistful smile on her lips. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

Rebecca had replied, "That I don’t deserve this. But I’ll protect it anyway."

A truth spoken like a promise. One she could never go back on.

So yes, I lied to Serena. Not for malice. Not for betrayal. But for potential. For the unknown brilliance that shimmered in Rebecca’s every step. For the women who now surrounded her in something that looked a lot like love.

And for myself. Because I, too, wanted to see what she would become when the chains of secrecy finally fell.

Would she ascend? Collapse? Transcend?

I didn’t know. But gods, I wanted to find out.

Until then, I would keep her secret. Tend to it. Nurture it.

And maybe—just maybe—help it grow.

Chapter Text

[Rebecca's POV}

One month had passed since we were whisked away into this strange, chaotic world, and truth be told, I’m proud of how far we’ve come. Every single one of my lovers had grown impressively strong—easily sitting around low [Mid-Class] in terms of overall combat potential. Now, I won’t pretend [Mid-Class] is anything earth-shattering, especially if you’re hanging around the bottom end of that tier, but for just a single month of work? That’s damn impressive. I know for a fact that most people would take years—maybe even a lifetime—of harsh, unrelenting training to get where my beloveds already are. But we didn’t play fair, did we?

Thanks to [Template Stacking I], each of my girls got the skill framework of a chosen character—essentially handing them the blueprints to become [Tier 4]. It was a cheat, sure. But it was our cheat. And they weren’t just coasting on it, either. No, they were grinding, sweating, bleeding if they had to, using their templates as a foundation to build something uniquely theirs. That’s the beauty of it. The strength isn’t handed over for free—it’s the framework. The structure. The scaffolding you climb.

Of course, I hadn’t been idle during this time. Far from it. Out of everyone in our little family, I was the one pushing myself the hardest. That’s not arrogance—it’s truth. I needed to be the strongest. I wanted to be the strongest. Not because I was afraid of weakness, but because I loved them. Deeply. Fiercely. And I would rather die than see any of them hurt because I fell behind.

So I trained. I bled. I broke. And I kept going.

Right now, I’m still sitting at [Tier 5], but I know in my bones that I’m knocking on the door of [Tier 6]. It’s only a matter of time now. For the moment, though, I needed to finish my final preparations to receive my [Evil Pieces]. Everything had to be in order—no room for mistakes. I’d reviewed my etiquette lessons with near-obsessive diligence, and honestly, I think I had a decent grasp of it now. Having purchased my [Lilitu Heritage], I got [Performance Talent] as part of the package, which let me act like a proper noblewoman, with the posture and diction to match. The irony is not lost on me, considering I’d rather shoot someone than curtsy—but here we are.

Combat-wise, I was feeling confident. My training in Chakra and Feral Fists had paid off. My taijutsu had evolved into something vicious. It targeted chakra flow—or in the absence of that, the nervous system. A single clean hit could leave someone twitching on the ground, unable to move. But that wasn’t even the scariest part. With [Feral Fists], I could cause their nerves to explode. It was violent. Brutal. And entirely necessary.

My ninjutsu, admittedly, was slower going. I didn’t have a massive base of knowledge to work from, just Hinata’s framework, but I was absorbing the basics at a steady pace. And you know what? That’s fine. I’d rather build a strong core than rush into flashy techniques I can’t control.

My Devil Magic was... surprisingly solid. I was somewhere in the [Mid-Tier] range. That meant I wasn’t going to humiliate myself when I stood alongside actual Devils. My [Template Stacking: Serafall Leviathan] had matured well—I’d squeezed everything I could from it, reaching [Tier 4]. Now it was on me to expand from there. There was also the [Sea Serpent of the End] template, mostly focused on Water Manipulation. That one was lagging behind, not quite [Tier 4] yet, but given how much I had on my plate, I wasn’t complaining. It was coming along decently.

I was prepared. I was ready.

But amid all the training and striving, there were moments—precious, fleeting things—that reminded me why I was doing all this in the first place.

Late at night, when the stars blanketed the sky and the world outside was blessedly quiet, I’d often find myself curled up with Saeko. Her breath was steady, calm. Her arms around me were strong, protective. I ran my fingers through her hair while she murmured old stories from her dojo days. Her voice—soft and unwavering—was a lullaby I didn’t know I needed.

Rei liked to lie beside me, tracing the lines of my tattoos with the tip of her finger. She always had this mischievous little smile, like she knew exactly what she was doing. But then she’d whisper something honest, something raw, like how she still had nightmares and only felt safe when I was there. I’d hold her tighter after that.

Yuriko, elegant and composed as ever, had a way of wrapping her arms around me when no one was looking, pressing her lips to the side of my neck and whispering, “You carry so much. Let me take some of it.” And damn it, I’d let her.

Kyoko and Rika were a whirlwind—always teasing, always competitive, but gods, they were mine. We’d spar, we’d bicker, and then we’d collapse together in a heap, bruised and laughing. Rika had this habit of cleaning my wounds afterward with so much care it made my heart ache. Kyoko, on the other hand, would just kiss the bruises and say, “They make you look hotter.”

Shizuka was... well, Shizuka. Sweet and strange and unexpectedly brilliant. She’d sneak into my bed after a long day, arms full of snacks and her hair in a mess. She’d feed me chocolate while playing with my hair and asking about my training. She made me feel normal in the best way.

Saya, sharp as ever, was the one who kept me grounded. She challenged me, questioned me, made sure I never got too caught up in my own bullshit. But at the end of the day, she’d fall asleep with her head in my lap, mumbling about scientific theories and explosion ratios. I’d stroke her cheek and listen to every word.

And then there was Alice—my daughter. My light.

Alice had taken to this world in her own way, full of curiosity and wonder. She wasn’t a fighter—not yet—but she watched us with wide eyes and asked questions no child should have to ask. I did my best to shield her, to give her a sense of safety. When she’d crawl into my bed, curling up beside me and whispering, “I had a bad dream.” I’d pull her close and promise, “You’re safe now. I swear it.” And I wasn’t lying.

Never that.

It’s funny, isn’t it? For all my strength, all the tiers and talents and magic and fists—I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping them safe. But I don’t have to. Because I’ll keep growing. I’ll become something terrifying. Something divine.

For them.

They deserve a world where they can laugh without fear, where they can chase their dreams without looking over their shoulders. And I’ll build that world with blood and fire if I have to.

But for now, I sit with them. I touch, and kiss, and listen. I watch the stars with Saeko. I eat snacks with Shizuka. I let Yuriko read to me from old books. I let Kyoko braid my hair while Rei lounges across my lap, throwing popcorn at Saya, who is definitely pretending not to enjoy it. Rika’s in the kitchen, humming a song I don’t recognize.

Alice is asleep in my arms, safe.

And I am whole.

Even if just for a little while.

{Serena's POV}

We were now in Lucifaad, the shining capital of the Underworld—though to me, it remained a gilded cage that represented everything I despised about Devil society. The city still held tightly to archaic ideals, built on the rotting bones of nobility and bloodline worship, and no matter how polished the marble or majestic the spires, it reeked of stagnation. I had plans for this city—metaphorically, of course. Tearing it down brick by brick wouldn’t solve anything. But dismantling its foundations, reshaping its philosophies? That, I could and would do. For the equality of Pureblood and Reincarnated Devils alike. Still, that was for another day. Today, Lucifaad was simply the venue—the battleground—for something much more pressing.

The Evil Piece exam was being held here, as it always was, in the heart of tradition and scrutiny. And it was here that Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas, the so-called anomaly, would be tested. She was a curiosity. A question mark carved out of flesh and bone. And Ajuka had insisted that I look into her more closely.

"Has she arrived?" I asked, turning slightly to face my wife, Grayfia.

"She entered the building three minutes ago, dear." she replied smoothly, her eyes never leaving the display screen before her.

I nodded. Good. Punctual.

Ajuka’s last update had made it clear—no changes in Rebecca’s aura or behavior. No threats detected. No fluctuations in her already bizarre magical signature. And while she assured me that there was no indication of hostility, I couldn’t shake the sense that there was more she wasn’t telling me. For all her brilliance, Ajuka could be infuriatingly opaque when it suited her. The woman treated information like a game of three-card monte—she’d show you just enough to convince you to play, and hide the rest under layers of technical jargon and smiles.

Still, I trusted her. Mostly. If something were truly dangerous, she wouldn’t sit on it.

"That’s good," I murmured, standing up and smoothing the fabric of my coat. "Now, let’s go see this little anomaly of ours."

Grayfia gave me that look—the one that said she knew exactly how much interest I was trying not to show. I ignored it.

We made our way through the observation levels of the testing facility, ascending until we reached one of the high glass balconies that overlooked the main hall for Devil Magic aptitude evaluations. Just as we stepped into place, the first arc of violet energy crackled from below. Rebecca had begun.

She was impossible to miss. Her skin, a bluish-green hue, shimmered under the magical lighting of the chamber. And instead of cloaking her appearance with illusion magic like any other self-conscious Devil might have, she displayed herself boldly, inked from throat to toe with vivid pink tattoos that pulsed slightly with magic. Not glamor. Real ink, embedded into her skin. Her look was halfway between ancient war paint and street punk rebellion, and it screamed defiance in the most unapologetic way.

And then there was her mana. Thick, potent, unrefined, but there. It swirled around her like a tide, coiling up in sudden bursts that made more sensitive observers flinch. It wasn’t out of control, but neither was it tamed. It reminded me of wild magic—a force honed by instinct and will, not tutoring or centuries of tradition. There was rawness to it that I found… refreshing.

"She’s at Mid-Class levels already." Grayfia murmured beside me, tilting her head.

"Close to breaking through," I agreed. "If she had the same upbringing as the children of the Pillars, she’d be High-Class by now. Maybe even pushing Ultimate, but that's a stretch."

Grayfia nodded, her silver hair catching the light. She didn’t argue.

Rebecca wasn’t just magical power and attitude. There was a history there. A mystery. Found in a ruin, of all things, preserved in a pod like some relic from a dead age. Possibly a descendant of an extinct Pillar House, though none could identify which. That alone was dangerous knowledge—if the Old Satan Faction ever found out, they’d treat her as a prize, a broodmare to rekindle a dying lineage. Fortunately, Falbium had gotten wind of his parents’ little scheme before they could put it into motion.

Though, truthfully, I was still irritated at the way he handled it.

Instead of taking her in himself, he dumped her on his parents and made them raise her, all because he couldn’t be bothered. Laziness masquerading as neutrality. He thought avoiding the spotlight was safer for her, but in doing so, he gave her to people who saw her as a burden, not a gift. He could’ve given her to a family like mine—a family that would’ve protected her, nurtured her. But no. Laziness won out.

"She’s moving on to her etiquette and worldly knowledge section." Grayfia said. There was a faint note of amusement in her voice, and I couldn’t help but smile.

"Then I suppose it’s time to enjoy your company properly."

I offered her my arm, which she accepted with the grace of the queen she was, and we moved to the adjoining lounge where we could observe the next phase of the test in more comfort.

The screen showed Rebecca being ushered into a new chamber, this one styled like an old drawing room—classical Underworld décor, with thick drapes, crystal decanters, and a fireplace that crackled despite the lack of wood. She looked comically out of place in the setting, but she didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious.

The proctor began asking her questions. Historical context. Diplomatic nuance. Earth-side current events. She answered each one in a manner that defied expectations. Not rudely, but not with the practiced deference you’d expect from someone trying to make a good impression. Her words twisted and curled, always truthful, yet never quite what you thought they’d be. There was a rhythm to the way she spoke—clever, lilting, and careful.

She’d say things like, "That particular treaty was signed, yes—but not honored," or, "I wouldn’t call that arrangement peaceful, more like an ongoing ceasefire marinated in polite fiction."

Each sentence was a work of art that danced around absolute statements, and yet never crossed into falsehood. It was almost… otherworldly. Her answers were sharp enough to cut, and yet polite enough to pass. The nobles judging her looked confused. Some impressed, some mildly horrified. She was dancing around the norms and making them look like idiots for setting such low expectations.

I could see why Ajuka was intrigued.

Then there was her Peerage—or rather, the fact that she already had one, despite not possessing a full Evil Piece set. Normally, devils waited. They "earned", in the cases of Devil Heirs, their pieces, planned their teams, and began the recruitment process carefully. Rebecca had thrown all that out the window. She'd not only gathered people, she'd forged bonds with them. Lovers, allies, companions. Her Peerage wasn’t a political construct. It was a family.

And they followed her not because of ambition or strategy, but because they wanted to. That kind of loyalty couldn’t be bought. It had to be earned.

"She’s dangerous." Grayfia said finally, her voice low.

"Yes," I agreed, sipping my drink. "But not in the way people think."

It wasn’t her power that made her dangerous. It was her presence. Her ability to draw people to her. Her refusal to play by the old rules. And the way she answered questions without ever telling a lie, even when silence or subterfuge would’ve served her better.

The more I watched her, the more I understood why Ajuka had come to me. Why she had hesitated to give me everything. She wasn’t hiding Rebecca’s threat. She was trying to protect her. From us.

She would change things. That much was certain.

And the Underworld did not like change.

Still, I found myself smiling.

"She reminds me of someone." I murmured.

Grayfia raised an eyebrow. "You?"

"Hardly. You."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.

We continued to watch in silence as Rebecca moved into the next phase of the test. There would be combat trials next—simulated engagements against constructs meant to mimic real battlefield scenarios. It would be the final section, and the most telling.

I had a feeling she’d pass.

But that wasn’t what interested me.

What interested me… was what she would do once she had that title. Once the Council handed her a seat at the table. Once she no longer needed to ask permission.

Would she burn it all down?

Or build something better from the ashes?

{Rebecca's POV}

I fucking hated talking posh, like some uptight noble with a stick shoved so far up their ass they could taste the varnish on their furniture. Even if the story I’d been given in this world claimed I was raised by one, that shit was purely decorative. A convenient fiction. Truth is, I wasn’t—neither in practice nor in mindset. I’d been shaped by fire, by chaos, by blood and grit and smoke, not by silver spoons and ballroom etiquette.

I speak bluntly. Always have. If I’m talking in circles, it’s only to trap someone—make them squirm, corner them into putty, usually when I’m seducing them. That’s the only time I make poetry out of my words. Otherwise, I don’t play verbal chess. I throw the whole fucking board.

Still, with that part of the exams over—the part where I had to pretend I gave a damn about being noble—it was finally time to let loose. After a short break to rest my muscles and my ears from the endless droning of that pompous proctor, I was ready. Gods, being under her watchful, judging eye was torture. A noble perfectionist with a stick up her cunt. That fucking bitch.

"Are you ready now, Lady Glaysa-Labolas?" she asked, her tone saccharine and sharp all at once, like a blade dipped in honey.

I didn’t dignify her with words. Just nodded. I’d already swapped out the ridiculous noble outfit for something more me—sports bra, booty shorts, and a puffy jacket. Something breathable, something that let me move. Of course, that earned me some condescending stares from the older devils seated in the audience stands. Let them look. Let them whisper. They could go suck the barrel of my gun if they had a problem with it.

Speaking of guns—oh, my sweet girls. They weren’t your run-of-the-mill lead spitters. No. These were custom, courtesy of my dear older brother. Falbium. Lazy, quiet, ever lounging around, but a total siscon through and through. And like any self-respecting siscon, he made sure his baby sister was armed to the fucking teeth. Naturally, he couldn’t make a scene about it—not with the Old Satan Faction always watching for signs of favoritism—but he pulled it off like the sly bastard he is.

He got me a pair of golden Desert Eagles, enchanted with Devil Magic. Blessed, or maybe cursed, depending on how poetic you wanted to be. Technically, they weren’t that strong—not compared to my raw power—but damn, they were effective. There’s something so primal about pulling a trigger and watching a target drop. Magic might be flashy, but bullets? Bullets are personal. They rip. They echo.

"Very well. Please, enter the arena, Lady Glaysa-Labolas," my ever-annoying proctor said, gesturing toward the double doors with all the grace of a smug cat.

With another nod—because why waste breath on her—I pushed them open.

The arena was massive, designed like a Roman coliseum, with ancient stone pillars and tiered seating that stretched toward the heavens. Dust kicked up beneath my boots as I stepped onto the sunlit sand, the air dry and crackling with anticipation. Opposite me, standing proud and tall in the center of the ring, were my opponents: three magical constructs. Not real living things, just illusions made solid with enough mana to punch through bone.

Still, they looked damn convincing.

A Chimera—lion head snarling, snake tail twitching, goat horns curled tight. A Harpy—sharp claws, winged arms, and an expression that screamed bitch with issues. And an Empusa—red-haired, seductive, but with legs that shifted between brass and flame.

Seriously, what the fuck was with the Greek monsters? We’re devils. Christian mythology, anyone? But whatever. I wasn’t picky. I just wanted something to break.

I rolled my shoulders, cracked my neck, and walked out into the arena. My proctor stood off to the side, holding onto a Phoenix Tear like it was some sacred relic. It was protocol, of course. Every combatant had to put down a payment for one, just in case we got too injured. If we didn’t end up using it, we got our money back. Not that I planned on needing the damn thing.

"Are you prepared, Lady Glaysa-Labolas?" she asked, yet again.

Gods, I hated how she kept calling me that. Like I’d choke on the name if I didn’t use the whole bloody title.

I nodded once more. "As ready as I'll ever be," I replied. That much was true. I never lied. Couldn’t. But I could be vague.

She nodded in turn and raised her hand.

"Begin the combat exam!"

And just like that, the constructs sprang to life.

The Chimera roared, bounding forward with all three of its heads snarling in sync. The Harpy took to the skies in a flurry of feathers and wind, while the Empusa began weaving magic with a sensual grace that might’ve fooled someone stupid. But I’d seen worse. Been seduced by better. Fucked worse, too.

I grinned like a devil should. Guns out. Fingers twitching.

"Let’s dance, assholes."

My first shot went straight for the Chimera’s lion head. The enchanted bullet connected with a sickening crack, shattering the illusionary beast’s eye socket. It didn’t drop, of course—it was too tough for a one-hit kill—but it stumbled, and that gave me time to roll sideways, dodging a fireball flung by the Empusa.

"Oh, you like it hot, huh?" I called, dodging behind a stone pillar as chunks of magic-charred debris exploded around me. I peeked out, aimed, and put a round straight through her left breast. Petty? Maybe. Satisfying? Hell yes.

The Harpy divebombed from above, screeching, claws aimed for my face. I dropped to one knee and fired up. One bullet caught her wing, the next her stomach. She crashed to the sand like a sack of potatoes, twitching but not down for the count.

"Bitch, your manicure is hideous."

Chimera came back, snake tail whipping out. It caught my side—stung like a motherfucker—but I tanked it, gritting my teeth. My jacket took most of the bite, enchanted to resist slashing damage. Still, it hurt.

I emptied a clip into the goat head.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Goat’s eye. Goat’s jaw. Goat’s temple.

It collapsed into golden particles.

One down.

I dashed toward the Harpy, boots crunching over loose stone. She tried to scramble up, flapping her wings, but I was faster. I slammed a knee into her beak—fuck that felt good—and shoved one of my guns against her eye.

"Say cheese."

I fired.

Two down.

The Empusa was pissed now. Her whole body lit up in flame, her eyes glowing like hellfire. She began to chant in Greek. Real Greek, mind you—not just Latin cosplay bullshit. Props for authenticity, but that wasn’t going to save her.

I let her monologue. It was only polite. Then, I kicked a loose chunk of rubble at her head, breaking her concentration.

She shrieked, stumbled, and I shot her kneecap.

"Don’t fuck with the classics." I said with a wink, firing again—center mass.

Three down.

The constructs faded, their forms dissolving into the mana ether. The crowd watching from the stands—the nobles, the instructors, the pretentious devil pricks—sat in stunned silence.

I holstered my guns slowly, deliberately, like some Wild West gunslinger. Then I stretched, as if I hadn’t just demolished three magical beasts like it was Tuesday.

"Do I pass, or do I need to strip next?" I asked, my voice light, amused, just riding the edge of mockery. I wasn’t offering. Just pointing out how utterly ridiculous the whole spectacle was.

My proctor didn’t respond. Her lips were tight, her knuckles white around the Phoenix Tear. But I hadn’t needed it. I was bruised, scratched, sure—but not broken.

"Congratulations, Lady Glaysa-Labolas. You have passed."

"Naturally." I replied with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

Because of course I passed. This wasn’t about proving myself to them. This was about proving something to me. And honestly, it wasn’t even much of a fight.

This was just warm-up.

Chapter Text

{Serena's POV}

Well, that was fucking unexpected.

I’d been told—no, assured—by Ajuka herself that Rebecca had been rigorously training in the use of her peculiar Senjutsu and her rather elegant Water Manipulation. I had expected something flashy, maybe a flurry of glowing water blades, or some kind of divine dragon made from chi and magic, maybe even a fusion technique that defied conventional spellwork. Something dramatic. Something loud. But what did she do instead?

She used fucking guns.

Just like a wild bull in a China shop, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bullets, casings, and black smoke. Her enemies didn’t stand a chance.

Rebecca, the Devil who looks like a cyberpunk street rogue straight out of a dystopian anime, went full trigger-happy merc and dropped three magically reinforced constructs—things that had given High-Class Devils a some headaches—with nothing more than her custom firearms. And I don’t mean that figuratively. She used only her guns.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Even Ajuka looked surprised, and that woman practically breathes variables. We had both anticipated some display of her unique magicks. At the very least, a whisper of that weird Senjutsu to tip the odds. But no. Not even a flicker.

Why?

From what I read in Ajuka’s reports—and believe me, those are detailed enough to make your eyes bleed—Rebecca had developed her control over both chi and elemental water to a ridiculous degree. That kind of training? That kind of investment? It usually signaled a Devil aiming for greatness, someone preparing for the upper echelons of power. So why hold it back?

Was she hiding her strength? Testing us? Or maybe her opponents simply weren’t worth the effort?

It wouldn’t be the first time a devil pulled their punches, but this felt… intentional. Deliberate. Strategic.

Devil Magic isn’t the only metric we use when handing out Evil Pieces or judging combat worthiness, but let’s not kid ourselves—it's the first one everyone looks at. Magical potential often equals perceived value. Of course, that mentality creates blind spots. Rebecca is a glowing example of one.

Technically, according to our charts, she ranks as Mid-Class. That’s where she’s slotted, based on her magical signature and affinity tests. But then she walks onto the battlefield, whips out a pair of guns, and turns constructs into craters like she’s mowing grass.

It’s insane.

And brilliant.

That kind of finesse, of practical and unapologetically lethal skill, puts her easily in the High-Class bracket—maybe even bordering the middle echelons of it if her abilities scale the way I suspect they do. Magic is flashy. Guns, when used like that? Efficient. Lethal. Terrifying.

"Remarkable." I found myself muttering, half in awe, half in reluctant admiration.

Rebecca is a contradiction wrapped in chaos. An oddball among oddballs. The way she moves, the way she speaks—it’s like every word is laced with some quiet, razor-edged intent. And yet, she never actually lies. Her responses are always… curious. Slanted. Twisting the truth without ever stepping outside its bounds. It makes every interaction with her feel like a game you didn’t realize you were playing until you’ve already lost.

Ajuka finds her fascinating. And I can’t really blame her.

There’s potential there—a deep well of it. Not just as a fighter or a tactician, but as a force. In the long, slow rise of Devils in the Rating Games, new blood like her could shake up centuries of stagnant politics and even older rivalries. She could be the kind of unpredictable chaos that topples empires and builds better ones in their place.

And damn, wouldn’t that be fun to watch?

Especially now. Rias-tan, my lovely little sister, has been dragging her heels again. The Phenex engagement is looming faster than anticipated, with their pompous House suddenly pushing for the date to be moved up. Father is, unsurprisingly, noncommittal about it. Probably trying to juggle ten different political fires at once while still pretending this isn’t an obvious pressure tactic. And Rias? She’s retreating inward. Again.

She needs inspiration. A spark.

Someone like Rebecca.

Can you imagine it? Rias, all proud nobility and velvet fire, crossing paths with that chaotic wildcard? Rias might try to act offended at first—appalled by Rebecca’s bluntness, maybe even a little unnerved by her directness—but it would intrigue her. That girl’s been pampered and polished her entire life, and she’s desperate for something real. Rebecca is nothing but real.

It’s not just her bluntness or her strength, though those are both compelling in their own right. It’s the way she exists. As if every breath she takes is her own little rebellion against the system. Her disregard for Devil norms, her casual disregard for formality, the way she dresses, the way she fights, the way she doesn’t give a shit what anyone expects from her—all of it paints a picture that’s hard to look away from.

She’s like a story that hasn’t been written yet, but you know it’s going to be wild.

I’ve already started drafting a potential Rating Game setup that might put her in a bracket near Rias, once she gets it into her head that she needs to moving her ass. Subtle, of course. I don’t want to be obvious. But if I can maneuver it right… maybe a team exhibition match? Something that lets the two of them interact without it seeming forced. Let Rias see what power without aristocratic restraint looks like. Let her feel that fire.

Gods, the thought is delicious.

And who knows? Maybe they’ll even become friends. Maybe Rebecca will rattle something loose in Rias’ overly structured little world. Maybe Rias will stop trying to be the perfect daughter and start being herself.

Or maybe Rebecca will just shoot the damn Phenex heir in the leg. Honestly, either outcome is acceptable.

It’s strange, isn’t it? How someone you barely knew a month ago can start to feel like the key piece you’ve been missing. Rebecca’s presence has stirred things in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Now, if only I can get Ajuka to stop simping over her abilities long enough to actually help me set up that match...

No matter. It’ll happen. One way or another, I’ll make sure Rebecca and Rias meet.

And when they do?

Oh, it’s going to be beautiful.

Utter chaos. But beautiful.

I can already imagine it now—

Rias trying to lecture her on decorum while Rebecca lounges upside-down on a couch, shotgun across her lap and a lollipop in her mouth, casually correcting Rias’ understanding of magical geometry with some obscure bit of battle-tested wisdom.

And Rias, gods bless her, pretending she’s not impressed.

Yes. This is going to be fun.

{Rebecca's POV}

The process of obtaining the Evil Pieces was surprisingly straightforward. All I had to do was channel a sliver of my Devil Magic into the obelisk-shaped monolith, and like clockwork, the box containing the pieces materialized before me. There weren’t any unexpected obstacles—not that I anticipated any—but I did take note of a subtle detail: the pieces were... different. Mutated. Twisted slightly beyond their intended form. Still, I wasn’t bothered. If anything, I welcomed it. Change often meant power, and I was never one to flinch from power.

With the pieces finally in my possession, our preparations could begin in earnest. Step one? Turning my lovers into Reincarnated Devils. That part was non-negotiable.

“So, who’s up first?” I asked, my voice lilting slightly, neither commanding nor coaxing—just... honest.

They exchanged glances, a quiet conversation unfolding in the tension of silence. Eventually, they gently nudged Alice forward.

My daughter.

My wonderful, precious Alice.

She looked up at me with those familiar eyes, a brave little smile curling her lips as I softly ran my fingers through her hair. Alice was unlikely to ever set foot on a battlefield—goddess willing—but that didn’t mean I would leave her unprotected. The enhancements granted by becoming a Reincarnated Devil would provide layers of defense, making her a little more resilient in this cruel, unpredictable world.

I plucked a Bishop Piece from the box and hovered it in front of her.

"Are you ready, sweetie?" My voice came out softer than I intended—warm, maternal, sincere.

She nodded, a determined edge to her voice even as she held her hands clasped together in front of her. "Yes, Mommy."

I tousled her hair one more time, inhaled a deep, calming breath, and pushed the Bishop Piece gently against her chest. It glowed red-hot for a fleeting second before dissolving into her skin like liquid fire. There was no scream, no flinching—just a subtle shift in her aura. Something more... not quite malevolent, but distinctly other. A resonance I had only sensed in true Devils.

I kissed her forehead gently, letting a sigh of relief escape my lips.

Then I heard it: the gentle chime of a notification ringing out in my head. [The Waifu Catalog] had an update.

Curious, I checked it immediately.

Turns out, [Template Stacking] didn’t just grant skills or passive boosts—it also altered someone’s race based on the chosen character. My gamble worked. With [Mission: Peace, Love, and Sex for All] requiring me to collect and Reincarnate a variety of races to earn [Credits], the strategy to apply diverse racial templates was proving effective.

I grinned. Wide. Sharp.

With my confidence high, I turned toward the rest of my family.

Yuriko stepped forward first, regal and calm even as she smirked with that proud, lethal glint in her eyes. She always did carry herself like a queen—turns out, now she literally was. I pressed the mutated Queen Piece against her and felt the magic accept her without resistance.

Next was Shizuka, ever radiant in her oblivious, ditzy charm. She blinked at me, confused for a second, before breaking into a goofy little smile. Her arms were wide open before I even asked, and I nestled a Bishop Piece into her chest. I knew she understood more than she let on.

Kyoko and Saeko came next—my Rooks. Kyoko was all fire and fury, eyes burning with adoration and something deeper, something primal. Saeko, on the other hand, exuded calm bloodlust, her need to protect and dominate coiled beneath the surface. Both were steady, unyielding pillars in our odd little family, and the moment their pieces sunk into them, I felt something spark in the air—an acknowledgment of their strength.

Then came Rika and Rei, my loyal Knights. Rika met my eyes and nodded—firm, steady, her love for both Shizuka and me written across her face. Rei bounced forward excitedly, grabbing my hand like a child at a festival, her joy only barely tempered by the seriousness of the moment. I adored them both in very different, but equally intense ways.

And finally, Saya. My one and only Pawn—for now. She was too damn smart for her own good, of course, and I’d never seen anyone roll their eyes that hard while still accepting their role so gracefully. But behind her sarcasm was loyalty, and a love as loud as it was stubborn.

Seven Pawns remained, unused and waiting. But my peerage was now filled, my lovers were officially Reincarnated Devils, and my [Credit] count had just skyrocketed to [242 Credits]. As a bonus, I’d also been granted a free [Conjunction Perk]—a pleasant surprise.

Even better, receiving my Evil Pieces had triggered an [Additional Objective] completion under [A True Leviathan]. That meant that all my pieces were mutated, making everyone I’d just Reincarnated got a bump to [Tier 5], and with it, a surge in raw capability.

I felt like my heart might burst.

Of course, priority one was paying off my [Loan]. The moment I did, an odd weight lifted from my chest. A metaphysical pressure I hadn’t realized was there.

Free.

And with so many [Credits] left, there was only one thing to do: shop.

I dove into [The Waifu Catalog], scrolling like a woman possessed. Highschool DxD was no joke. With its parade of divine beings, eldritch horrors, and anime-tier power creep, I needed defenses—desperately.

I purchased [Body Defense] Level 2, two levels of [Stress Defense], and [Addiction Defense] for good measure. Then came [Fatality Defense] Level 1. I paused, considering the others—[Mind Defense], [Possession Defense], [Drain Defense], [Polymorph Defense]—but ultimately decided against them for now. As far as I knew, there weren't any entities in the current territory who could force those effects on me or my girls.

Hopefully.

Hopefully, I hadn’t overlooked some hidden bastard with a fetish for turning people into frogs.

If I had? I’d fix it.

With defenses secured, I moved on to [Talents]. First was [Blessing Talent]—practical, considering I was surrounded by people with divinity-adjacent power. Then came [Wild Talent], a necessity for unlocking [Land Talent], which I acquired immediately after. Tapping into the natural energy of the world I was now in would always be useful.

Then came the [Lures].

[Zenryoku Zenkai] was a must—there was no doubt I’d be fighting, and that particular Lure would make future opponents more inclined to like me. Or at least not bash my skull in right away. [Tsundere Service] came next, its effect subtly influencing people’s willingness to kill me.

Every little bit helped.

After wrapping up my spree, I exhaled deeply, satisfied. There was still plenty to do, but the foundations were laid. Everyone I loved was safer now. Stronger. More connected to me in a way that went beyond the physical.

I looked around.

Yuriko had an arm lazily draped around Kyoko, who leaned into her with a look of serenity on her face. Rika and Shizuka were curled up on the couch nearby, whispering something into each other’s ears, giggling like schoolgirls. Rei sat on the floor by my legs, her head resting against my thigh, while Saya lounged near Saeko, arguing over something trivial, smiles hidden behind faux-serious glares.

And Alice—my sweet Alice—sat on the armrest beside me, holding my hand. Her aura flickered like a candle in the dark, newly formed, not yet fully stable. But she was brave. So, so brave.

I loved them all. Truly. Deeply. Irrevocably. Every emotion I gave them was real. Every whispered promise, every brush of fingers against skin, every breathless confession.

I wasn’t allowed to lie—not by choice, but by oath.

But here, in this moment, I didn’t have to twist my words. I meant every damn thing I said.

And with a smile that stretched all the way to my bones, I turned back to [The Waifu Catalog]. It was time to start on the next set of [Missions].

When I received my Evil Pieces, I also completed an [Additional Objective] tied to my [Mission: A True Leviathan]. That objective didn’t just reward me with Mutated Pieces—it granted me a King Piece as well. A relic, really. Those things had been banned ages ago, production cut off entirely. Dangerous, they said. Unstable. Too much power in one person’s hands. So of course, I didn’t use it immediately. Someone had been watching. I wasn’t about to do something that’d raise questions when I could simply wait, bide my time.

Now, though? Everyone else was already turned into Reincarnated Devils. My girls were finally stable in their new forms, stronger, sharper, glowing with magic like stars ready to burn the whole world down if I asked them to. I stood alone in the training chamber—quiet, dimly lit, walls lined with protective wards—and finally held the King Piece in my palm.

The moment I pushed it into myself, it was like a dam broke.

Power surged into me, pure and unfiltered, like swallowing the sun. Every nerve in my body lit up as if I'd been electrocuted and kissed all at once. My Devil Magic spiked, twisting around my soul, settling like it had always been there. I opened and closed my hand, grinning as sparks danced along my fingers.

"Oh, fuck yeah."

There it was. My enemies wouldn’t know what the hell hit them.

And now, it was time to make the next move. The Human World awaited.

While we’d been training for the past month, I’d had a long conversation with my older brother. Falbium. Big, hulking, stone-faced bastard—until you mentioned me. Then the Siscon came out full force. I used that, gently. I never asked for much, so when I did, he listened.

I told him Rei, Saya, and Saeko wanted to continue their education in Kuoh Town. Not a lie—just... strategic truth. Their parents had hammered in the value of finishing school so hard, it stuck even after they'd been turned into supernatural badasses. That desire was still there. And me? I wasn’t going to stand in the way of what they wanted.

Falbium agreed, didn’t even hesitate. Sure, he pushed the actual work to his people, but that didn’t matter. Paperwork got filed, calls got made, and within the week, we had a residence in Kuoh Town. There were conditions, of course—we had to play nice with the Devil Overseers. Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri.

I hadn’t met either of them yet, but that’d change soon enough. Rias and I were on a collision course, no doubt about it.

Everyone else was packing, buzzing with excitement. I watched them move through the house with laughter in their steps and purpose in their hands. Rei and Saya were arguing over who got which laptop. Saeko was calmly cleaning her sword in the corner, as if anticipating we’d need it before the week was out. Kyoko sat with Shizuka and Rika, going over some documents, their shoulders brushing every now and then in soft affection.

And Yuriko? She stood watching them all, arms crossed, but eyes warm. Ever the matriarch, she made sure everything was in order. Alice clung to her leg, babbling about wanting to see real-life anime cafes.

These were my people. My harem, my family. My heart.

And me? I was planning.

Because today, the Canon started. The real shit. Issei Hyoudou was about to get murdered by a fallen angel in a few days, and Rias was supposed to reincarnate him. But I had an [Additional Objective] that said I needed to kill Issei.

Well, not me, specifically. The [Condition] of a different [Mission] didn’t allow that.

But that was the beauty of reading between the lines. It never said someone else couldn’t do it.

So, I let the idea sit in my head like a song on loop. Raynare was going to kill Issei. That was always the plan. All I needed to do was make sure Rias didn’t get to him in time. That was enough to fulfill my Objective.

It wasn’t personal. Well, maybe a little. Issei’s weaponized idiocy grated on my nerves. There was perversion, and then there was whatever the hell he was. A walking red flag with a libido instead of a brain.

Still, I didn’t hate him. I just had my path, and he was in the way.

And his removal would make Rias weaker. No Issei, no Boosted Gear. No Boosted Gear, no upset in her favor when Riser shows up. Which meant she’d not only lose the Rating Game, but Issei wouldn't be there to save the day, and I’d fail another [Mission Condition].

Annoying.

So, I sat in my room that night, legs dangling over the edge of the window, looking out over the dim expanse of our training grounds, and pulled up Devilnet. Stupid name. Handy as hell, though.

I dug deep into laws, loopholes, old betrothal records. Hours passed. The others came to bed one by one. Saeko kissed my temple, fingers dragging lightly across my shoulders. Saya left a mug of hot cocoa by my elbow, even though it had long since gone cold by the time I noticed. Rei curled up behind me in the chair and started reading over my shoulder. Shizuka braided my hair. Kyoko sat across from me, offering critiques on possible loopholes. Rika, half-asleep, leaned against my hip. Yuriko only murmured, "Don’t forget to sleep. You’re not invincible, no matter how strong you get."

Alice had passed out on the couch, a stuffed bear in her arms.

And then I found it. A single line in a dusty old law: a marriage betrothal could be challenged by a third party under specific conditions. It wasn’t common anymore. It’d been buried under centuries of bureaucracy. But it was still valid.

I could challenge Riser for Rias’s hand in marriage.

Oh, I could already imagine his face.

Of course, I couldn’t just pop up from nowhere and say, “Hey, I’m stealing your bride.” That’d raise every red flag in the system. I had to build rapport. Get close to Rias. Become someone whose challenge wouldn't be immediately rejected.

That was already in my plan.

I nodded to myself, leaned back in my chair, and finally let my body rest.

Tomorrow morning, we head for Kuoh.

Tomorrow, the pieces start moving.

The morning was thick with the scent of coffee and the sound of bickering.

Saya was arguing with Rei about whether or not a uniform needed to be ironed perfectly.

"It looks fine!"

"It looks wrinkled."

"It looks lived in."

"It looks like you slept in it."

Kyoko and Saeko were doing a weapons check. Shizuka had packed snacks for the entire week, and Rika had triple-checked the permits for our stay in Kuoh. Yuriko handed me a sealed envelope—our registration documents, charmed against detection.

Alice ran up and hugged my leg.

"Mama, we’re gonna go see the anime girls now, right?!"

I ruffled her hair. "Something like that, sweetheart."

We took a portal, subtle and untraceable, straight to Kuoh’s outskirts. By the time we arrived, the town was already alive. Students heading to school. Shops opening. Birds chirping like they didn’t know the supernatural existed.

It looked so normal.

I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands together, “let’s go fuck up the plot."

Rei laughed. Saya rolled her eyes but smiled. Saeko gave me a nod that said she was ready for war. Kyoko cracked her knuckles. Rika loaded her pistol. Shizuka winked. Yuriko simply placed a hand on my shoulder.

We were here.

And we weren’t going to play by their script.

Chapter Text

{Rias POV}

"What are your thoughts about our newest resident?" Sona asked, her tone deceptively casual as she moved her pawn to capture my rook. A clean sweep, and a mistake on my part. I frowned slightly at the board, considering my next move as I processed her question.

"You mean Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas, right?" I replied, nudging one of my pawns forward while mentally retracing the last few steps of the game. "Honestly, I don't see any problem with it. If anything, I’m looking forward to meeting her. There’s not much information about Satan Asmodeus’s little sister floating around, and that alone makes her intriguing."

Sona made a soft sound in her throat—agreement or amusement, I wasn’t sure—and casually repositioned her knight, cutting off the path of my pawn. I took that opportunity to slide my bishop across the board, snatching up her rook. Her eyebrows twitched, and I smirked.

"Not much is known about her, like I said," I continued. "It’s strange, right? For a sibling of one of the Four Satans to be such an enigma. You’d expect a lot more coverage, gossip, scandals—something."

Sona’s gaze flicked to the board, and then up at me. She moved her rook with precision, slicing off one of my king’s future escape routes. I moved my pawn again, this time more cautiously, giving myself some breathing room.

"Well, I can’t blame you for not knowing," Sona said smoothly, lifting her knight and placing it just within striking range of my king. "But when we learned that a Satan’s sister would be residing here, I decided to keep a close eye on her situation. And what I found was... interesting."

I looked up from the board, curiosity piqued. "Oh? Do tell."

I moved another of my remaining pawns forward, the third one I’d been nurturing toward promotion. This one was going to make it if I was careful. My attention split between the game and her words, though a part of me focused sharply on her expression. Sona rarely found anything 'interesting' without it meaning trouble.

"You know she’s scheduled to move in the day after receiving her Evil Pieces, right?" she asked.

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the board as she sacrificed her knight to block my pawn’s path.

"And the primary reason she chose our territory is because three of her Peerage members are students at Kuoh Academy who wished to continue their education here, yes?"

"Yes, I remember that part," I said, sighing as I took her knight with my pawn, reluctantly exposing my king in the process. "Though I’ll admit, I didn’t expect it to be Takagi Saya, Miyamoto Rei, and Busujima Saeko. That was a surprise."

It had caused quite the stir when we realized three of our top students hadn’t enrolled this year. We initially feared the worst—abductions, attacks from Stray Devils—but it turned out they’d been recruited by Lady Glaysa-Labolas. That revelation had caused more questions than it answered. Recruiting from under our noses? Without even a whisper? It was almost impressive.

"Good, you remember." Sona said dryly, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Her queen slid across the board like a guillotine, blocking yet another of my king’s options.

"Word travels fast in the Underworld," she continued, voice now low and measured. "And some are starting to speculate that Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas is High-Class, despite her being listed as Mid-Class in magical capacity."

I frowned, nodding slowly. "So? That’s not unusual. Plenty of House heirs are granted High-Class status due to their family’s influence."

"True," Sona said, studying the board as if reading tea leaves in the black and white patterns. "But the issue is no one knows her true strength. I got my hands on a copy of her combat evaluation."

My eyebrows lifted at that. "And?"

Sona moved her knight into position. My king had nowhere to go. I stared at the board, then at her, a flicker of irritation passing through me. Damn it, she’d boxed me in while I wasn’t paying attention. I slid my bishop forward to clear space for my advancing pawn.

"She didn’t use a single spell," Sona said, almost too casually. "No magic. Just a pair of guns."

My gaze snapped to her. "Only guns?"

"Only guns," she confirmed. "No summoning. No energy manipulation. Nothing recorded as even remotely arcane. It was all physical skill."

That didn’t sit right. A Mid-Class Devil, not using magic during her combat trial? That could be seen as reckless—or supremely confident. Maybe both.

I gritted my teeth and moved my pawn forward. One more space, and it would reach her backline. Promotion would buy me a little breathing room.

But then she moved her last bishop diagonally, neatly trapping my king.

"Checkmate." Sona said with a satisfied smirk.

I groaned, then reluctantly extended my hand. "Damn it."

She shook it with an amused glint in her eyes, but I noticed her focus had shifted back to our conversation. That alone told me she wasn’t done.

"So," I said, leaning back in my chair, "she’ll be interesting, then?"

"Hopefully," Sona replied, gathering the pieces with deliberate calm, "that’s all she’ll ever be."

I gave her a faint grin. "You’re expecting trouble."

She paused, then shrugged. "I’m preparing for the possibility."

Silence settled between us for a moment, filled only by the soft clack of chess pieces returning to their box. My mind drifted to the image of Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas. Sharp-eyed, with that cybernetic glint to her gaze—inhuman, but compelling. I’d seen pictures, nothing more, but she left an impression even through a screen. Something about her stance, like she was coiled energy just barely contained. The way she stood as if the world owed her a fight.

"Well," I murmured, "if she’s the type to use only guns in a magic-dominated society, she’s either a complete idiot... or frighteningly confident in her skills."

"Or both." Sona said dryly.

I chuckled. "She must’ve passed, though. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have received her Evil Pieces."

"She passed," Sona confirmed. "But it was borderline. The examiners noted extreme physical aptitude, unorthodox technique, and dangerous levels of aggression."

That last part made me pause. "Aggression?"

"Mm. One of the staff noted she smiled while shooting her opponent. Not a polite smile—a feral one."

I tapped my fingers on the armrest. "Well, I suppose we’ll be seeing for ourselves soon enough."

Sona looked at me, eyes sharp. "Just be ready. If she’s hiding her true strength, and the guns were just a smokescreen... then we may be hosting a very dangerous individual."

"Aren’t we always?" I muttered.

She snorted. "Not like this."

Truthfully, the idea of someone like Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas coming to Kuoh was unsettling. Not because of her lineage, or her unknowns, but because of what her existence represented—a wildcard. We had too many pieces on the board already. Adding one more, especially one we couldn’t predict, could throw everything into chaos.

But even so, I couldn't help but feel a spark of anticipation. Chaos wasn’t always a bad thing.

Sometimes, it meant change. And sometimes, change was exactly what we needed.

Even if it came with a pair of guns and a grin sharp enough to cut through the Underworld.

She hadn’t used magic. She hadn’t needed to. That said more about her than any title or lineage ever could.

As I moved my queen in a haphazard attempt to seize control of the board again, I wondered...

What kind of person fights like that in a world where magic is everything?

And what would happen when she finally decided to show what she was really capable of?

{Rebecca's POV}

After breaking in the new mansion—and I do mean breaking it in—we made damn sure to leave no surface untouched. With spells flying and bodies pressed together in every possible configuration, we painted the place with our pleasure, a defiant, carnal celebration of freedom, survival, and the strength of what we’d built. Every room save for Alice’s was blessed with the chorus of our moans and the scent of sex lingering in the air. Alice’s room, of course, was protected by a particularly sturdy silencing charm. She was still a kid, and even if she was absurdly intelligent for her age, there were limits. No one was going to traumatize my daughter. Not on my watch.

When the house was finally quiet and the magic had cleaned away the aftermath—because thank the gods for magical sanitation—we gathered in the sunken living room. The air was still humid with our sweat and energy, but the vibe had mellowed. We sat close, limbs overlapping, kisses shared idly, like we didn’t quite want to let go of the warmth just yet.

Rei curled up next to me first, her cheek against my shoulder, her golden eyes bright with affection. She always sought me out for reassurance after we went that wild. Sweet, bubbly, and hopelessly devoted, she was like sunlight with a touch of madness. Saya sat across from us, legs crossed, an amused smirk playing on her lips as she tapped away at her tablet, already reorganizing schedules like the brilliant gremlin she was. Saeko lounged against my other side, quiet and serene as ever, fingers casually combing through Rei’s hair. She was our anchor during chaos, her love expressed through presence, through touch, through that unnerving calm.

Shizuka was in Rika’s lap, arms draped around her neck while the ex-sniper stroked her back. Kyoko leaned against Yuriko near the bay window, both sipping from steaming mugs of tea like they hadn’t just been part of a seven-woman orgy. Morgana, I loved these women.

“I suppose this is the part where we start acting like civilians.” I said aloud, letting my voice carry a bit of theatrical irony. Everyone chuckled.

The plans weren’t complicated, but they were important. Rei, Saya, and Saeko would be enrolling in Kuoh Academy’s college division. Alice, my precious daughter, would be starting second grade at the same school’s elementary division. She was excited—terrifyingly so—but that was Alice in a nutshell. That girl had more magic running through her than most adult mages, and she was already outpacing every textbook I threw her way.

Meanwhile, Yuriko, Rika, Kyoko, and Shizuka would be managing a small café we’d recently acquired. Shizuka insisted on decorating it like a cozy European tearoom with pastel colors, while Rika handled logistics and security. Yuriko was excited to bring a motherly presence, and Kyoko? That woman baked with a vengeance. Her cookies could probably subdue low-level devils with their sugar content alone.

As for me, I’d be opening a tattoo parlor. Not just any parlor, either. It was going to be mine, a personal statement inked in blood, magic, and ambition. I hadn’t used my [Binding] in any meaningful way yet—having [Captured] my women through love confession—but I was planning to. Most would assume [Binding] civilians was pointless, or worse, cruel. But I wasn’t doing it just to fuck around. It wasn’t some mindless conquest. I needed rapport. I wanted people to talk. Whisper. Be curious.

I would [Capture] civilians—not permanently, never cruelly, just enough to make them talk about the tattoos. Let the word spread through the mundane world. Let it ooze into the supernatural. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned? The supernatural may scoff at human fads, but it’s not immune. Trends ripple. Fashions evolve. And a well-placed symbol, a rune drawn just right—well, it might just start something.

Japan was only the beginning. I didn’t need everyone’s attention. I just needed the right someone’s.

If my brother—that dumbass—hears I’m doing tattoos, he’ll definitely want one. He’s vain enough, and we still share blood. An easy [Capture], if you ask me.

But for now, this life? It’s about balance. The jobs were just for show, a civilian front. When we weren’t pretending to be ordinary, we’d be training. Growing stronger. And keeping Kuoh safe. That was part of the deal. A concession we made to live here. In exchange for sanctuary, we’d help maintain order. Patrols, monster sweeps, keeping an eye out for any sudden divine temper tantrums.

Tonight, we were scheduled to meet with the town’s overseers. A formal introduction. Politics. Can’t avoid it.

There were still a few hours to kill before that meeting. I stood, brushing off my pants, and looked out the bay window. Kuoh looked deceptively peaceful in the early evening light. But I knew better. This town was sitting on a powder keg.

“I’ll check on the Fallen Angels.” I said, voice light, but words chosen carefully. I didn’t say I would attack them. Just locate. Just observe. Just enough to know where they roosted.

Rei perked up immediately. “Want company?” she asked, eyes sparkling.

I kissed her forehead. “Not this time, baby. Need you to go with the others to Kuoh. Help them settle accounts. Keep an eye on Issei.”

Saya groaned, muttering something about idiotic perverts, while Saeko gave a quiet, amused nod. Yuriko cracked her knuckles with intent.

“Remember,” I said, “we’re not here to start shit. Not unless they force our hand.”

Yuriko rolled her eyes. “I never start shit. I just end it.”

Rika snorted. “Sure, boss.”

Kyoko grinned wickedly. “She says that, but she already marked our patrol routes with red X’s labeled ‘trouble likely.’”

Shizuka just hummed softly and offered me a muffin. Blueberry. Still warm.

I took it with a grin and a wink. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” they all said, in a tangle of voices.

Even if I couldn’t say certain things directly, the truth shimmered behind my words like a hidden enchantment. Everything I said, I meant. Every step I took was deliberate. Every plan a thread in a greater tapestry I was weaving.

And they? They were the jewels at the center of it. My chaos. My calm. My home.

Alice peeked into the room, hair tied in two messy buns, holding a notebook.

“Mom? Can you help me with this magic equation?”

I melted.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Even gods could wait when Alice asked for help.

By the time night fell, the others had returned. The girls shared their experiences at the Academy—Rei had made three new friends and scared two boys away with her enthusiasm. Saya already bickered with the smartest person she found in the room. Saeko found a kendo club she could teach at. Alice apparently terrified her homeroom teacher by correcting their Latin pronunciation. I couldn’t be prouder.

Yuriko, Rika, Shizuka, and Kyoko had finalized the café’s opening schedule. The signage was up, the permits enchanted, and the seating arrangements optimized for both comfort and subtle surveillance. Because we were still us.

Just because I had bought [Aesthetics Talent] and [Covert Talent] doesn’t mean I had some grand master plan. The [Aesthetics Talent] was mostly for my tattoo business. It helped with designs, detail, precision—everything you’d want in body art, especially with clients like Saya breathing down your neck and insisting on symmetrical sakura petals with embedded runes. As for [Covert Talent]—well, it wasn’t really for sneaking around day-to-day. I’m not exactly the most subtle bitch on the planet, and subtlety isn’t really my aesthetic. But, there were going to be moments when silence and shadows would be necessary, and this was one of them. So yeah, I got it. Never know when you’ll need to be quiet and not have your head blown off.

It was a good call, too, since the moment called for silence and observation. I wasn’t going to interfere with the Fallen Angels just yet. That wasn’t part of the plan. Not until they went after Issei. Until then, I needed to stay low and make sure things were still going according to the timeline we knew. No sudden shifts, no odd behavior. Just recon.

Moving through the forest was... calming, in a strange way. My boots barely made a sound against the undergrowth—[Covert Talent] was pulling its weight. The forest air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and old bark, and every now and then I caught a sliver of light peeking through the canopy above. It helped that I was alone for the moment. As much as I loved the girls, sometimes you just needed the quiet to think.

Eventually, I made it to the clearing. The church stood there like it had been forgotten by the world, an echo of its former self. Broken stone, missing windows, collapsed roof beams. Honestly, I was surprised it hadn’t fallen in on itself. It looked like a single clap of thunder would finish the job. Still, it served its purpose—hidden enough, abandoned enough, and apparently, still being used.

I climbed a tree just outside the clearing and found a sturdy enough branch to sit on. From here, I had a perfect view of the ruins. I stayed still, every breath quiet and measured. It was early evening—the moon low, sharp shadows, and not the kind of hour you'd expect activity from bastards that preferred to skulk around in the dark.

But then—movement.

People. Human-looking, dressed in priestly garb, emerging from the church like they hadn't just stepped out of a crumbling cathedral that looked like it’d been in a bar fight with a tornado. My brow ticked up as I watched them. They weren’t talking loud enough for me to hear, not from this distance, but I noted how they walked. Organized. Deliberate. Not civilians.

I watched as they slipped away through the trees, not even glancing in my direction. My fingers rubbed against my chin, nails dragging lightly across my skin as I activated my Byakugan. Always a trip, shifting vision like that—it felt like I was looking through reality’s skin, peeling it back to see the raw bones underneath.

And there they were.

Four Fallen Angels, all inside what remained of the church. And not alone, either—humans. Stray exorcists, by the looks of it. Their numbers were modest, but enough to be dangerous if they all moved at once. I couldn’t hear anything from this distance, not without sound-enhancement perks, but just seeing them confirmed what we already knew: they were still here, still operating.

I watched for a bit longer. I didn’t really expect to learn much more, but confirming the number and presence was good enough. The plan remained the same. I wouldn’t act until they made their move on Issei. Until then, I had to remain patient.

I made my way back through the trees, slow and deliberate, my body moving like a whisper in the woods. I thought about the girls—my girls—as I went. Rei had begged to come with me earlier, her big, hopeful eyes damn near breaking my resolve, but I’d told her no. Not because she wasn’t capable—hell, she was vicious with her naginata when she needed to be—but because this wasn’t the time. I needed silence, not chatter, and Rei? She chattered when nervous.

Saya had smirked when I left, throwing in some snark about letting the real professionals handle surveillance. She always acted like her brain was her only weapon, but she was wicked with a gun and everyone knew it. Still, I loved that she teased me. She had a way of making even the tension melt.

Saeko, ever calm, had only nodded. Her presence was like water—still, quiet, but capable of crushing force when provoked. She didn’t speak often, but when she did, you listened. I missed the feel of her hand in mine, steady and reassuring.

Kyoko had handed me one of her knives before I left. She didn’t say a word. Just pressed it into my palm, met my eyes, and nodded. That woman had been through hell and still chose to believe in me, to follow me. I didn’t take that lightly.

Rika had kissed my cheek, all cool professionalism hiding the warmth in her eyes. She and Shizuka had been working with Yuriko on reinforcing our base while I scouted, and I’d catch them later, wrapped up in each other on the couch, teasing touches and quiet laughs. They kept our home alive.

And Alice, my daughter. She hadn’t said much, just clung to me a little longer than usual before I left. There was a soft fear in her, something she tried to hide, but I saw it. She wasn’t afraid for herself. She was afraid for me.

I returned just before the sun began to dip low. The sky bled orange and gold as I pushed open the door to our home—a two-story mansion tucked into the edge of the residential district, reinforced and watched from all angles. Rei met me at the door, flinging herself into my arms before I could even step inside.

"You're back! I knew you’d be fine, but—ugh, I still worried!" she said, burying her face in my chest.

"I told you I’d be back before dinner, didn’t I?" I murmured, wrapping my arms around her. Not a lie. I had said that.

She looked up at me, eyes bright. "Yeah, but... doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you."

Behind her, Saya rolled her eyes with a grin. "You’d think Rebecca went off to war."

"She did," Saeko said softly, approaching and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Even if only for a short time."

Shizuka fluttered in next, practically glowing. "You’re not hurt, right? No ambush? No sudden traps or curses?"

"Nope," I said with a half-smile. "Just ruins, robed freaks, and brooding angels."

Rika raised a brow from the stairwell. "Same number as expected?"

"Yeah. Four Fallen, stray exorcists too. No movement yet. They’re waiting."

Yuriko appeared at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "We need to stay ahead of them. If they sense another devil in Kuoh, they might act prematurely."

I nodded. "Let’s hope they stick to the script. If not, we adapt."

We gathered that night in the living room. The girls nestled close—Rei and Saya curled against me, Saeko on the floor beside my legs, Kyoko silently sharpening her blade nearby. Rika leaned against Shizuka, their warmth radiating across the room. Yuriko kept watch from the window, always the sentinel. And Alice, sweet Alice, sat on the arm of the couch beside me, her head resting on my shoulder.

This was our family. Not born from blood, but from battle, love, pain, and choice.

And I would burn down the world for them.

The calm before the storm was just beginning to crack.

But we were ready.

We always are.

Chapter Text

{Rias's POV}

Arriving at Lady Glaysa-Labolas' mansion with Sona and our Queens in tow, I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Despite being the younger sister of a Satan and an Heir to a Noble House, Lady Rebecca was virtually unknown among the young devils. It was bizarre. No social presence. No notable exploits. Just rumors and secondhand information. The only solid details anyone had were that she had green hair, blue-tinged skin, pink glowing tattoos, and—recently—fought with guns. That last bit? Still baffling.

Sona had shown me the footage from Rebecca’s Evil Piece test, and to say it left an impression would be an understatement. It was brutal, efficient, and unlike anything I’d ever seen from a devil. Guns—actual guns—wielded with a level of mastery that made magic users look clumsy. Even Reincarnated Devils who came from the human world abandoned firearms in favor of magic, but not her. Was she like my cousin Sairaorg, who doesn't or cannot use magic altogether? Or did she simply not find her opponents worthy of the effort? It was hard to say. She was a mystery, and mysteries like her tended to either burn brightly or flicker out entirely.

Today’s meeting was meant to help answer that question. Everyone in the nobility wanted to know if this green-skinned enigma would shake the pillars of devil society or vanish into obscurity. But right now, all I could do was knock on the door and find out for myself.

The door opened after a few beats, revealing Busujima Saeko. Her blue eyes met mine, calm and sharp as ever. I still couldn’t believe she and the others—Takagi Saya, Miyamoto Rei—had been recruited without us noticing. They were top students, part of Kuoh Academy’s "Five Great Onee-sans," and somehow, they’d been swept into Lady Rebecca’s camp beneath our very noses.

“Good evening, Saeko-san. We have arrived for our appointed meeting.” Sona greeted, her tone composed.

“Good evening to you as well, Sitri-sama. And to you, Gremory-sama. Please, enter and follow me. My King has already prepared dinner for our meeting.”

As Saeko turned, I shared a quick glance with Sona. She nodded subtly. We followed, our eyes scanning the mansion’s interior. It was tasteful but sparse, clearly not lived-in for long. That made sense; Rebecca and her Peerage had only just moved in yesterday. There was an odd silence to the space, one that felt like a breath waiting to be exhaled.

When we arrived at the dining room, Saeko opened the doors, and a wave of rich, savory aroma hit us all at once.

"Oh my..." Akeno whispered beside me, eyes lighting up. And that was saying something—she prided herself as our top cook.

Then, we saw her.

Rebecca stood at the head of the table, a vision far more vibrant than any footage could capture. Her skin was a smooth, pale turquoise, like ocean foam under moonlight. Her pink tattoos glowed softly beneath her tank top, curling over toned muscles and impossible curves. Massive chest. Narrow waist. Hips that flared with the kind of confidence only the truly fearless possessed. She was short—though not Koneko-short—but with the kind of presence that filled a room like thunder.

And those clothes... By the Satans. Two black tank tops layered together, barely hiding anything, and dark booty shorts that left little to the imagination. She wasn’t dressing to impress the nobles; she was daring them to react.

“Good evening, Lady Glaysa-Labolas.” Sona said smoothly, regaining her composure faster than I could.

Rebecca chuckled lightly. “Please, Lady Sitri. My last name is far too much of a mouthful, and frankly, I’ve little taste for formalities. Just call me Rebecca.”

Sona and I exchanged another glance, the air thick with silent understanding. If she wanted casual, she’d get casual.

“Very well,” I said, smiling politely. “However, we’d appreciate the same in return, Rebecca. Please, call us Rias and Sona. Fair is fair.”

Rebecca’s expression shifted instantly, her lips pulling into a grin so wild and feral that it sent a ripple of heat down my spine. The polite noble vanished, replaced with something raw and magnetic.

“Really? Well, don’t mind if I do then, Rias~.” Her voice dropped slightly, sultry and bold. The regal air faded, replaced by something more dangerous, more alive.

The change startled me, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Now, with all the stuffy noble pleasantries outta the way,” she continued, plopping down into her seat, “why don’t we talk while we eat?”

As if on cue, the door behind us opened, and a parade of beautiful women entered, each carrying trays laden with food. Familiar faces were among them—Saya, Rei—and several others we didn’t know well yet. None of them wore maid outfits, but the way they moved in unison suggested a natural rhythm to their bond.

“You wouldn’t mind if my girls ate with us, yeah?” Rebecca asked casually, her tone almost teasing. “If it’s a bother, they’ll eat elsewhere, but this meeting concerns all of us.”

I blinked. Most kings didn’t allow their Peerage to eat during official meetings. It was a cultural thing—tradition. But something about the way she said my girls tugged at me.

I turned to Sona, who gave a faint nod. I smiled. “Of course they can. They’re your family, after all.”

Rebecca paused, her expression softening. A tender smile bloomed across her lips, and I noticed something startling—every one of her Peerage mirrored it. Affection. Connection. Not just camaraderie or loyalty, but love. Deep, intimate love.

They weren’t just her followers. They were part of her. All of them.

And when a little girl with pink hair came skipping in and climbed into Rebecca’s lap, Rebecca beamed like the sun.

“Mama, you didn’t start without us, right?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, starshine.” Rebecca replied, kissing the girl’s temple.

The girl, her daughter, a definite surprise for someone her age. The affection between them was unmistakable. And no one at the table seemed surprised. The family dynamic here was... full. Warm. Alive.

“Eat, eat~!” Rebecca grinned. “I swear, you four’ll never taste anything better than what I whipped up tonight.”

Akeno arched a brow at that, clearly taking it as a challenge. “Is that so~? Well then, I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Be my guest~.”

Akeno scooped some curry onto her plate—the dish was her specialty, so it was a direct dare—and took a bite.

The moan that escaped her lips was not subtle.

We all stared.

Rebecca’s grin widened, leaning on one elbow. “Good, ain’t it?” she teased, tongue curling behind her teeth.

Akeno didn’t even argue. She just kept eating, more hungrily than I’d seen in weeks.

I turned to my plate, the steak on it seared to perfection. I hesitated only a moment before taking a bite.

By the Satans... it was divine.

She wasn’t bluffing.

The room soon filled with quiet conversation, laughter, and the soft clatter of utensils. Saya teased Rei, who teased her back with gentle affection. Saeko sat beside Rebecca, hand resting casually over hers. A mature woman with purple hair and dark skin leaned into a blonde woman's side, feeding her a bite of food with a smile. A brunette—sharp-eyed and fierce—watched over them all like a proud wolf.

There was a sense of completeness here. A bond forged through more than just battle. It was intoxicating.

And Rebecca, with her radiant, chaotic presence, sat at the center of it like a star.

I found myself smiling, not out of politeness, but genuine curiosity.

Who was this woman?

Whatever else came of this meeting, one thing was clear:

Rebecca wasn’t going to be a footnote.

She was going to be the headline.

Dinner was going surprisingly well. For something that was initially meant to be a formal discussion about territory lines and patrol schedules, it turned into a surprisingly intimate and, dare I say, enjoyable evening. The food had a lot to do with that. Rebecca's cooking was sinful—utterly, devilishly sinful. If there was a culinary equivalent of seduction, she'd mastered it.

Rebecca, as naturally as she breathed, took the opportunity to introduce her Peerage. At first, Sona and I had assumed she had only three members: Busujima Saeko, Miyamoto Rei, and Takagi Saya. But as the night went on, it became clear that Rebecca was full of surprises. She had eight pieces already filled.

Eight. I’ll admit it—I was jealous. Not just because she was that far into filling her Peerage, but because every single member looked at her like she hung the stars. There was a kind of warmth, a bond between them that went beyond duty or power. It was love, in the deepest and most unapologetic sense. Not possessive or desperate, but easy, comfortable, and raw. A family, in the truest way.

Her Queen was Takagi Yuriko—yes, Saya’s mother. And gods, was that a surprise. Yuriko carried herself with an air of refined maturity, the kind that wrapped around her like a warm shawl. She had a teasing lilt in her voice, a knowing smile that made you feel like she could see straight through you, and was amused by what she saw. It reminded me of my own mother, but less aristocratic and more... genuine.

For her Bishops, she introduced Alice—her daughter. Not by blood, as Rebecca clarified with a shrug and a crooked smile, but adopted and just as loved. That mattered. Alice, with her bright eyes and soft, inquisitive nature, clung to her seat beside Rebecca like a kitten nestled close for safety and warmth. Then there was Marikawa Shizuka, who looked every bit the bubbly airhead at first glance. But the longer I observed her, the more I noticed the way her eyes tracked each conversation, the way she leaned closer to whisper quiet comments into Rika's ear. Ditzy? Maybe. But definitely not dumb.

Her Rooks were Busujima Saeko—still composed and elegant, the sharpness in her eyes like a blade sheathed but ever ready—and Hayashi Kyoko, who struck me as a woman with a storm just beneath the surface. She looked fierce, yes, but there was something softened in the way her hand occasionally brushed against Shizuka’s or in the rare, ghosting smile she gave Rebecca when their eyes met. They were all subtle, their affections threading between every interaction. But they were there. Present. Tangible.

Her Knights were Minami Rika, a sharp-eyed woman who gave off the unmistakable air of police training. She didn’t speak much, but her presence was steady, comforting. The kind of woman you’d want at your back in a fight—or a crisis. Then there was Miyamoto Rei, who still carried the energy of a playful breeze: lively, sweet, and a little too curious for her own good. She stuck close to Rebecca, often stealing glances at her like a schoolgirl nursing a crush, but the steel in her voice and stance told me she was no longer the innocent bystander in someone else’s war. She’d grown. They all had.

Lastly, her only Pawn: Takagi Saya. She was as proud and brilliant as ever, but something had changed. The edge to her arrogance had dulled, tempered by what I assumed were lessons in humility and love. She still had that smug grin when sparring with Alice over details, but it was clear that she had found her place—not just within Rebecca’s Peerage, but in her heart.

We transitioned to more serious matters as we ate, and thank the Satans we managed to quiet the moaning. Because really, the food was borderline indecent. One bite in and I swear half of my Peerage nearly ascended. I wasn’t far behind. Who the hell learns to cook like that?

"Are we in agreement on our patrol schedules?" Sona asked, brushing a napkin across her lips as the last plate was cleared. Her voice was as crisp as ever, efficient and direct.

We had just gone over the details: my Peerage would handle Mondays and Tuesdays, Sona's team would take Wednesdays and Thursdays, and Rebecca’s Peerage volunteered for the remaining three days.

Initially, we had intended to split the week evenly between Sona and me, with Rebecca only covering when needed, but she had insisted otherwise. Said it would be better that way. The way she said it didn’t leave room for argument, and yet it never came off as forceful. More like... inevitable. Like the wind deciding which direction to blow.

"We are." Rebecca replied, her tone as calm and assured as the sunset outside. Not commanding, not cold—just final. So we moved on.

"I hear you've already acquired a café and a tattoo parlor?" I asked, voice lifted with genuine curiosity. The thought of Rebecca running something as wholesome as a café was amusing—and oddly fitting.

She nodded. "We have. Since we’re remaining in the human world for now, we needed a civilian front. A café felt natural. Cozy, simple. The tattoo parlor is... more my style."

That grin she gave me? Wicked. It made my spine tingle.

She continued, "The café will be mostly for Rika, Yuriko, Shizuka, and Kyoko to run. I’ll handle the tattoo shop myself."

I tilted my head, sensing something off. Before I could put it into words, Rebecca beat me to it, that grin deepening with mischievous charm.

"Of course, I’ll help in the café too," she added, eyes dancing. "And if I’m not around, Kyoko and Yuriko are more than capable. I taught them myself."

That last part carried weight. Not pride, but something deeper. Intimacy. Care.

"I’ll be sure to visit often—and bring my Rook along." I said with a smirk.

Her return smile was inviting. It made me fight down a blush. Rebecca was... magnetic. There was no other word for it. No wonder she had such a large and fiercely loyal harem. It wasn’t just strength or charisma—it was the way she saw them. All of them.

Rei leaned against Rebecca’s shoulder, visibly relaxed, eyes half-lidded as if she was listening to a lullaby only she could hear. Saya, once seated two chairs away, had slowly drifted until she sat beside Rebecca too, arms crossed but clearly soaking up the warmth. Saeko barely spoke, but when Rebecca reached to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, her lashes fluttered and her smile softened. Shizuka had started playing with Kyoko’s fingers under the table, their silent affection speaking volumes. And Yuriko, ever composed, had at some point rested a hand on Rebecca’s thigh, her thumb making lazy circles as she sipped wine.

Even Rika, whose usual stiffness had persisted most of the evening, had loosened, laughing softly at something Alice had whispered.

Alice remained by Rebecca's side through it all, occasionally pouting when her mother reached to serve someone else. It was sweet. Comforting. And it made it all the more obvious that while Alice wasn’t romantically involved in the group, she was no less adored. Protected.

The conversation drifted after that, becoming more relaxed. Small talk. Sharing stories. Trading barbs and laughter. The sort of thing that makes strangers into friends.

By the time dessert came around—some sort of chocolate mousse that should’ve been illegal—we were all just... people. Not high-ranking Devils or political representatives. Just women, talking, laughing, living.

When we finally stood, the night drawing to a natural close, I found myself genuinely reluctant to leave.

"Tonight went better than expected." I murmured to Sona as we stood near the doorway, shoes in hand.

"Agreed," she said, nodding. Her expression was thoughtful. "Rebecca may be unorthodox... but I think we can trust her."

I looked back at the table, where Rebecca was cleaning up with the help of her family. Rei was trying to balance plates on her head. Rika rolled her eyes and took them from her. Saeko moved silently between them all like a shadow at peace. Alice was still giggling from something Yuriko said. Shizuka was humming. Kyoko was wrapping up leftovers. And Rebecca—

She stood at the center of it all. The eye of their little storm. A beacon they all gravitated toward.

"Yeah," I said. "I think so too."

And more than that, I think we made a friend tonight.

{Rebecca's POV}

The dinner-meeting with Rias and Sona had gone remarkably well, all things considered. I navigated the conversation like a seasoned diplomat, effortlessly handling what needed to be dealt with, addressing everything that required clarification, and smoothly aligning our roles in this new, chaotic world.

All in all, dinner went great.

Of course, it wasn’t just business. Not with me. Not with these gorgeous devils seated across from me. Like hell was I going to let a chance like that slip away. Subtle seduction was always on the menu. Rias and Sona, their Queens, and their stunning female Peerage members—I would have them all. It wasn’t even a question, really. With [Faerie Feast], the food I served wasn’t just good. It danced on the edge of addiction, teetering just shy of what would technically count as supernatural compulsion. Think Shokugeki no Souma, but laced with magic and desire, each bite a moan in the making.

Add in [Arlo], with Alice assisting in subtly increasing their emotional lean toward me, and the results were inevitable. [Honest to the Bone] came into play as I complimented them—not flatteringly, but sincerely. Unapologetically. Their beauty, their brilliance, their strength—I called them as I saw them, and devils or not, they blushed under the weight of honesty.

[Potpourri] flooded the room with my scent, mingling with the heady aromas of the feast. Each breath they took pulled them deeper under. My voice, animated with laughter and deliberate silences, wrapped around them with the aid of [Alluring Whisper]. By the end of the evening, Rias, Sona, and their Queens were a mess of flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and shy smiles.

Morgana, [Lures] are honestly just unfair. Seduction wasn’t a struggle anymore. It was a game. A slow, simmering game where I already knew the outcome. Frankly, I doubted it’d take even a month, nay, a fucking week, before they’d be begging for my attention. Just the idea made me grin.

With dinner concluded and Alice gently tucked in bed—her tiny form curled under the covers, her face relaxed in peaceful dreams—it was time to get down to training. We hadn’t had a proper chance to test our abilities since I’d Reincarnated everyone into Devils. And since I’d accepted the King Piece, becoming a true High School DxD Devil myself, it was past time to get a handle on what the hell we could do now.

Everyone broke off into groups to test their own abilities. I watched them for a moment—Rei’s bubbly laughter as she sparred with Kyoko, the deadly calm in Saeko’s eyes as she flowed through kata, Saya smirking with mischief as she lit up spell circles, Yuriko commanding like the matriarch she was, Rika taking position with precision—and Shizuka cheering for all of them in that ditzy, adorable way of hers. My heart ached with love. Real, raw love. We weren’t just a harem. We were a polycule. A family. A storm of passion and violence and loyalty.

And Alice... sweet little Alice. She was my daughter. My light. She might not be part of that romantic mess, but she was our everything. They loved her as much as I did.

I finally stepped back, letting them test their enhanced strength and magic, while I turned inward. My Chakra reserves hadn’t changed, so I shelved that for now. Same with [Feral Fists]; I knew what they could do. What interested me now was my demonic power. And it had definitely leveled up.

First test? [Sea Serpent of the End]. Glyphs bloomed around me, pulsing neon green, a language that only I understood. Water surged into existence, vast and crashing, bending easily to my will. I shaped it into spears—far more precise than before, no longer vague impressions of weaponry but elegant, deadly constructs that shimmered with menace. They were real now. Tangible. And numerous.

But I wasn’t done.

"What if..." I whispered, my voice curling with mischief.

I focused, splitting the spears down to smaller forms—bullets. High-velocity water bullets, initially blunt and splashy, but with a twist of intent, they began to spin. High-speed drills of liquid death. I molded them further, reshaping them from 9mm into sleek sniper rounds, fine-tuned to pierce through enchantments and flesh alike.

Spears were theatrical. Bullets were intimate. Up close or from afar, there was something primal about riddling an enemy full of holes. Which would be worse—being skewered by twenty spears or getting Swiss-cheesed in a torrent of high-pressure water bullets? I laughed. Loudly. Manically.

I was terrifying. And I loved it.

Better still, my magical reserves barely dipped. [Land Talent] made sure I was constantly absorbing ambient mana, converting it efficiently. This was sustainability with style.

And then... [Template Stacking I: Serafall Leviathan]. Ice coated the bullets, transforming water into razor-sharp frost. They glittered dangerously. Lethal and beautiful. A perfect reflection of me.

Anyone seeing me now would either shit themselves or cum on the spot. Probably both.

Which, speaking of... fuck, I was horny.

After a display like that, how could I not be?

I turned back to the girls. My girls. My lovers. My heart.

Rei was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She spotted me looking and beamed, that sunshine smile she wore just for me lighting up her whole face.

Saya tossed her pink hair back, giving me that smug little smirk she always wore when she was up to no good. “You done showing off?” she teased.

“Just getting started.” I shot back, letting my voice drop an octave.

Kyoko was flushed, her breathing uneven, not from exhaustion but anticipation. She’d grown so much, fierce and wild, but still looked at me with that same adoration she’d had the day I saved her.

Saeko didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Her eyes were already half-lidded, her stance shifting as she approached. Controlled. Predatory.

Shizuka stumbled over, clapping excitedly. “You looked amazing, Becca!” she said, nearly tripping over her own feet.

Rika caught her with ease, snorting softly. “She knows it. Look at that smug grin.”

Yuriko crossed her arms, watching me with that calculating gaze of hers. “You’re going to cause trouble.”

“I always do.” I said with a wink.

Rei bounded into my arms first, wrapping herself around me like a koala. “You’re amazing, Mommy,” she whispered into my neck.

“Damn right.” I replied, holding her close.

The others joined, a tide of warmth and touch and lips and hands. It was a mess of laughter and kisses, of whispered promises and knowing glances. I felt Saeko’s blade-calloused hand at my hip, Saya’s nails scraping my shoulder, Shizuka’s lips trailing over my collarbone, Rika’s voice murmuring filthy things in my ear, Kyoko’s breath hitching, Yuriko’s commanding presence grounding it all.

And in the back of my mind, I could hear Alice’s soft snores. Safe. Loved.

We were a storm, yes, but a storm with a center. And I was that center.

Later, when limbs were tangled and skin was flushed and the scent of sex hung thick in the air, I traced a finger along Rei’s bare spine and whispered, “We’re only getting stronger.”

Saya grinned up at me from her place on my chest. “That a promise?”

“With me?” I said, smiling lazily. “It’s a fucking prophecy.”

Chapter Text

{Saya's POV}

I bowed with a practiced grace as I entered the classroom, my lips curving into the kind of smile that said, "Yes, I'm that bitch." The response was immediate—"Oohs" and "Ahhs" rippling through the room like a wave of approval. As fucking well they should. I was radiant. Not just beautiful, but smart, sexy, poised. All the things Rebecca and the others never failed to remind me of—and I loved them for it. Their adoration made me glow, and I wore it like the most exquisite designer gown.

Flipping my hair, I sauntered toward the only vacant seat, hips swaying in that subtle way that drew eyes without effort. When we enrolled at Kuoh Academy, I had braced myself for complications, but [Paper Trail] handled it beautifully. It seamlessly wove our academic history into this world, and lo and behold—I didn’t have to switch to some asinine major like Business Analytics. Instead, it had me already enrolled in the sciences, as if I had been taking that path since elementary. Clean and easy. Rei ended up in Multimedia Arts, Saeko in Psychology—of course, we weren’t in the same class. A minor tragedy, honestly. They made everything more bearable.

The moment I sat down, the teacher began the lesson. It took some effort to focus; we had entered the school several weeks into the year, so naturally, I was behind. And yet, I caught on faster than anyone else in the room, because of course I did. But my mind wandered. How could it not? Between planning interdimensional travels and maintaining our shared goals, finishing high school felt both important and hilariously quaint. Still, I could hear Rebecca’s voice in my head: “Your mother wouldn’t want her daughter skipping out on her education just because the multiverse keeps tossing curveballs.”

She was right. She was always right.

But damn, focusing was hard when I could feel someone staring holes through my shirt. I slowly turned my gaze, catching the perv in the act. He had dull brown hair slicked back in a way that made him look like a 1950s greaser with none of the charm. His face was utterly forgettable. A face that could pass through a crowd and not leave a single impression. And yet, his eyes—beady, hungry, locked on my chest like a starving man seeing steak—stood out in the worst way.

Seriously? This loser thought he could ogle me?

Only Rebecca, or any of our girls for that matter, could look at me like that. Their gazes were full of hunger too, but laced with reverence. This dude? He looked like he’d sell his soul just to sniff a bra strap.

Then the teacher called out his name—Issei Hyoudou. Her tone was bone-dry, tired like she’d dealt with his shit more than once. And just like that, puzzle pieces clicked. This dumbass wasn’t just a perv. He was the perv. The protagonist of this universe. The fool fated to get murdered by a fallen angel in a few days.

Now, I’m not heartless. Not entirely. But after everything I’d seen and done in our previous world—slaughtering zombies, losing everything we knew, rebuilding our lives from ash and blood—death didn’t hit the same.

Rebecca had already shared her intentions with us. Let him die. Let the story run its course. Let the world think it’s following the script.

But Rebecca was also cunning. Her mind never stopped scheming, calculating opportunities like a master chess player. And this world? This world had Sacred Gears. Valuable, powerful artifacts. And the idiot drooling over my boobs had one of the best—a Longinus-Class gear. Wasting it would be criminal.

So, I decided to act. After all, I never waste an opportunity.

As class ended and students filed out, I stayed put. I waited for the room to clear. Unsurprisingly, Issei lingered, too busy trying to get one last look at the departing girls’ chests. Pathetic. Still, useful.

"Hyoudou-san." I called, watching him jerk in surprise as I addressed him. His gaze shot from my breasts to my eyes, like he couldn’t decide which he liked less.

"Chicks dig tattoos, you know that?" I said smoothly, voice dipped in syrup and irony. "You’d have a better chance at scoring if you got one. Maybe even land yourself a harem. There’s this tattoo parlor in the city center. You should swing by. Let fate do its thing."

Before he could muster a response—or dare think he had a shot because I deigned to speak to him—I turned and walked out. No need to breathe the same air longer than necessary.

Hyoudou Issei was simple. Dangle something shiny in front of him, and he’d chase after it like a golden retriever. 

I stepped into the hallway, exhaling through my nose, trying to dispel the foul presence of that man from my senses. I needed a palate cleanser. I needed them.

Thankfully, since Rebecca unlocked [Conjugation], we had a telepathic link. Not quite words, more like feelings, memories, sensations. I reached out mentally, brushing against familiar souls. Comfort. Lust. Love.

Within minutes, Rei and Saeko found me in the third-floor corridor. Rei’s warm smile melted every drop of irritation from me, while Saeko’s intense eyes promised retribution on anyone who dared upset me. I didn’t need words. I simply stepped between them, grabbed both by the collars, and pulled them into a deep kiss.

Tongues danced. Bodies pressed together. It wasn’t just lust. It was our language. A celebration of survival, of unity, of the bond we forged in blood and fire.

When we finally pulled apart, I gasped a little, breathless in the best way.

“I needed that.” I murmured, forehead resting against Rei’s shoulder.

“We felt you did,” Saeko said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You okay now?”

“Better. That idiot’s face still haunts me, though.”

“Then maybe we should find a dark room and help you forget more thoroughly.” Rei whispered, smirking.

I giggled, and together we began walking down the corridor, fingers interlaced.

As we turned the corner, I reached out through [Conjugation], sending Rebecca the mental equivalent of a smirk and a nudge. She’d know what I did. She’d know Issei was on his way.

And she’d know exactly how to deal with him.

Later that evening, we gathered in our mansion. Everyone was there—Kyoko, fierce and wild, her energy vibrating like a coiled spring even at rest. Rika, cool and sharp, always leaning casually on Shizuka like it was the most natural thing. Shizuka, as ditzy and affectionate as ever, yet eyes hiding centuries of wisdom. Yuriko, our iron pillar, motherly and deadly in equal measure.

And, of course, Alice. My precious little sister-in-law. Our daughter. The heart of us.

We were a family. Not just in name, not just in function. A true polycule, every bond between us forged by fire and love.

{Rebecca's POV}

Like Saya said, Issei came running to my newly opened tattoo parlor like a man on a mission—half-baked and full of desperation. The bell above the door jingled violently when he burst in, chest heaving like he'd just outrun a pack of horny devils. Which, knowing this world, wasn’t entirely out of the question.

It’s not like I’d had a whole line of customers waiting. This was Japan, after all. Tattoos weren’t exactly mainstream, and having a foreign-looking chick with guns for arms and a mouth that could make sailors blush didn’t scream "trustworthy artist" to the average civilian. So yeah, Issei was my first official client. Hooray, I guess.

Still, I would’ve liked the moment more if he hadn’t immediately fixated on my tits like they were some forbidden treasure. By Morgana, the way his eyes locked onto me made me want to zip up my jacket and toss him out on his ass. And I did zip up my jacket, tugging it closed in a rare moment of modesty. But fuck me, it didn’t help. His eyes clung like gum to pavement.

He sat there, eyes occasionally twitching away just long enough to whine about not being able to buy porn mags for two months and asked me, dead serious, for the coolest tattoo I could give him to turn him into a "chick magnet."

Of course, I gave him exactly what he asked for. In bold English script, I tattooed the word "PERVERT" around his bicep, a beautifully crafted loop of gothic letters that screamed exactly what he was. And, just like those Americans who slap kanji on their skin without knowing what it means, Issei beamed like he’d just been crowned king of the underworld. The idiot didn’t even question it.

He paid and left reluctantly, dragging his gaze from my now-covered chest like it physically hurt him. I snorted. Fucking dumbass.

But, credit where it’s due, I was glad Saya had nudged me into considering this little play. Issei hadn’t been on my radar for [Capture], what with all the shit that was supposed to go down with Raynare. I’d been too focused on his death to consider his potential. But Saya—sharp, smug, brilliant little fox that she is—knew better.

Now, though? Now I had to make sure he lived long enough to be [Captured]. Which meant if Raynare came gunning for him like prophecy dictated, I’d be there. I’d let her get close—just close enough—and then I’d drag Issei out by the skin of his pervy little neck. Rias wouldn’t get to him. Not until he was [Captured]. Not until Saya patched him up in a hidden room beneath the shop, probably while whispering insults and science facts in equal measure.

Thank Morgana Saya could heal. I sure as shit wasn’t going to let Alice handle that. My daughter had more important things to do than patch up a groaning pervert.

Still, part of me hoped he got [Captured] before Raynare ever lifted a feathered finger. Would save me the migraine.

Business being slow wasn’t a problem. It gave me time. I trained in the back whenever the shop was empty—which was often. My Chakra Pool had improved a lot, more stable now. I could feel it humming just beneath my skin, like a second heartbeat. But even with that, I’d hit a plateau in Ninjutsu. Which was why I bought [Added Potential: Ninjutsu].

Was it necessary? Maybe not. I had Magic now, after all. But come on—who didn’t grow up watching Naruto and dreaming of being a badass shinobi? Besides, having two separate energy pools to draw from meant I could switch tactics when one ran dry. And there was something beautiful about that versatility.

Also, and this might sound stupid, but I really wanted to learn the Shadow Clone Jutsu. Not just because it was iconic as hell or super useful in combat. No, I wanted it because I love everyone so fucking much, and there’s only one of me.

Even with all the love they have for each other—even with the polycule we’ve become—every single one of them still wants me. Still needs me. And I want to be there for them. All of them. All the time.

So I bought [Added Potential: Shadow Clone Jutsu]. It only cost [5 Credits], and honestly, how could I not? I’d be able to learn faster, fight better, and most importantly, love better. Every clone would remember everything. Every kiss, every whisper, every tangled moment under warm sheets or the rush of breath in a midnight battle. I would be there for them, over and over, and they’d know, without question, that they matter to me.

And yeah, summoning a whole army of myself to fuck someone up? That’s just fucking fun.

Grinning to myself, I trained whenever I could. My movements became sharper, the flow of chakra cleaner. And in between sessions, I would check my messages. Rika always sent me teasing little photos, half-covered and half-laughing, challenging me to come home and make her behave. Shizuka would send hearts and silly stickers, her love layered under giggles.

Saeko, precise and poetic, would describe her sword katas in texts that somehow made me blush. Rei’s messages were always full of cheer, full of warmth, asking me if I was eating well, resting enough—sweet and genuine. Kyoko sent voice memos of herself huffing from workouts, rough and honest, muttering that she missed me under her breath. And Yuriko? Her words were like whiskey—smooth, commanding, and laced with promise.

They were my world. Every damn one of them.

And Alice—my daughter, my joy—she was the soft heartbeat at the center of all of it. She was the light I protected, the reason I kept going even when I was bloody and broken.

There were nights when we all curled together, our bodies a tangle of heat and affection. Saeko brushing fingers through Rei’s hair. Saya nestled against Shizuka’s soft warmth. Rika tracing lazy circles on Kyoko’s thigh. Yuriko wrapped around me like a shield, her presence unshakable. Alice asleep in my arms, safe and unaware of how much I bled to keep her that way.

Those moments? They reminded me why I did this. Why I trained. Why I fought. Why I made dumb tattoos on even dumber boys.

Even on slow days, the love didn’t stop. Yuriko would bring home groceries with a military efficiency that made me smile. Shizuka brewed tea like it was a sacred rite, humming softly. Kyoko patrolled the neighborhood like a watchful hawk. Rei helped with shop inventory, sometimes sneaking kisses between boxes. Saeko meditated in the back room, her aura a calm tide. Saya tinkered with scrolls and seals, muttering theories. Rika flirted outrageously and shamelessly every time I passed her.

And I loved them. Morgana, I loved them.

So I went back to training. Back to fine-tuning my chakra control. Back to layering my magic with my seals. Back to preparing. Because shit was coming. Big shit. Wings and shadows and blood.

But I had love. I had fire. I had the power to change everything.

And this time, I’d make damn sure the people I loved didn’t pay the price.

{Ajuka's POV}

Once Rebecca left for the Human World, my observations didn’t stop for a single moment. I remained diligent, my network of familiars scattered through the realms, their eyes and ears relaying every detail back to me while I worked on other matters. Multitasking came easily to someone of my caliber, and this mission—this fixation—had become second nature. I had been watching since the very beginning, and I must admit, Rebecca truly was a marvel.

We initially believed she might be a descendant of one of the extinct Pillar Houses. It was the most logical conclusion at the time it all hinted at something noble, something ancient. Yet, she never once exhibited the unique traits typical of the known Pillar Houses. That was, unless her lineage had mutated, evolved into something unrecognizable by traditional standards.

Still, no Pillar House in recorded history wielded Senjutsu in such an uncanny way, nor did any boast such intimate mastery over firearms. Senjutsu-like energy manipulation was unheard of in Devil society—until her. Her use of it was fluid, intuitive, as if she was born with it. This anomaly spurred a cascade of theories. Was she a Sitri? That was one possibility. But a far more terrifying one lingered in the dark corners of my thoughts: a direct descendant of the true Satan Leviathan. The notion alone sent a shiver up my spine.

Both theories had their problems. Serafall and Sona were the only known children of the Sitri line. As for Leviathan, Katarea was the only known living descendant. And yet… Rebecca defied every expectation. Her command over water far surpassed what should have been possible. She didn’t just use it—she became it. It moved with her will as though it were her own limb, with a finesse and elegance that eerily resembled a younger Serafall.

There were parallels I couldn’t ignore. Rebecca could manipulate both water and ice, shaping them not into spears or walls as one might expect, but into bullets—sleek, deadly, efficient. It was tactical artistry, brutal and beautiful. The control, the structure of her magic… it matched Serafall’s almost exactly. And yet, the aesthetic differences—the feral brutality behind it—made it something wholly her own.

So, I considered an alternate theory: perhaps she was a clone. A failed or discarded product, maybe. It wasn’t unheard of; people have tried replicating the power of the Satans before. I myself had once toyed with similar experiments, as had others in our echelon. The idea that Rebecca was one such product—something lost, abandoned, yet thriving—was equal parts amusing and disturbing.

As I watched her navigate the Human World, I began to notice something else, something stranger. Rebecca often spoke about her knowledge of an alternate version of our universe. Not dreams. Not delusions. But detailed, coherent insight, as if she had lived it. She never revealed how she knew, but when she believed she was in the privacy of her home, surrounded by her lovers, she spoke freely.

Their plans were laid bare, spoken aloud in between tender embraces and playful teasing. Her lovers each adored her in their own way, and she returned that love tenfold. Even her daughter, Alice, was precious to her, though she stood apart from the romantic web of desire and devotion.

Rebecca’s obsession with Rias Gremory had taken center stage recently. She wanted to challenge Riser for Rias’s hand in marriage. Bold, foolish, and exactly the kind of impulsive bullshit I had come to expect from her. Of course, she didn’t know the full extent of what such a challenge entailed. There were rules. Protocols. Politics.

But fate was on her side—or more accurately, Serena was. The Satan would bend the rules, if only to see her sister smile again. That meant Rebecca would likely succeed, and I… I would help her from the shadows. Not out of duty or manipulation, but because, gods help me, I found myself wanting her to win.

I remember smirking at the thought, fingers pausing over my console, as I spared a glance at the scrying mirror. Rebecca was… preoccupied. Her lovers had descended upon her in a wave of lust and affection, their bodies tangled together in an orgy of sweat and heat and moans. And there she was at the center, receiving and returning every touch, every kiss, with a hunger that was both primal and tender.

I was absolutely not repressed. Definitely not. Even if my cock was hard and aching, and even if I had to cast a quick cooling spell just to stay composed. I wasn’t jealous either. That would be absurd.

...Right?

The way Rei curled against Rebecca’s side, sweet and affectionate, her voice a gentle lullaby as she whispered about their plans for the evening—it made my breath hitch. Saya, ever the clever one, straddled Rebecca with a mischievous grin, teasing her with precise, practiced strokes of magic-enhanced fingers. Saeko, calm and composed, stood by for a moment before joining, her hands drawing slow, deliberate lines across Rebecca’s back.

Kyoko was fiercer—rougher. She gripped Rebecca’s hair and kissed her like it was a battle to be won. Rika and Shizuka moved like dancers, playful and sensual, their bodies fluid and eager. Yuriko, the matriarch of the group, took her time, kneeling beside Rebecca and murmuring soft praises, her touch worshipful.

And Rebecca, despite being the core of their world, was so clearly devoted to each and every one of them. She gave herself without hesitation, worshipping their bodies as much as they did hers. She didn’t just fuck them—she loved them. Deeply. Honestly. Fiercely.

That kind of love couldn’t be faked. That kind of connection couldn’t be forged in mere weeks or months. It was the product of soul-deep bonds, of lives intertwined beyond logic or expectation.

Alice, though not part of their more explicit entanglements, was their pride and joy. The daughter of all, in a way. Each of them doted on her, protected her, trained her. She was sharp, clever, and far more dangerous than anyone outside their circle realized. And Rebecca… she was a hell of a mother. Harsh when needed, soft when earned, always present.

But then there were the darker things—the secrets she whispered when she thought no one else was listening. The way she spoke of Fallen Angels, hiding just beneath the noses of the Gremory and Sitri households. It wasn’t just idle speculation. She knew. And if what she said was true, then we were facing a threat that needed to be addressed sooner rather than later.

I would need to speak with Serena once Rebecca was done with her plans, about how her sister was unable to see them, as well as Serafall for the same matter. The girl could handle what she needed the for the moment. Especially considering how often I found myself distracted while observing Rebecca.

Not just by the sex—though yes, that certainly didn’t help—but by the layers beneath her surface. The fire she kept banked behind every snarky comment. The love she wielded like a blade, protecting everyone she claimed as hers with the kind of ferocity most would never understand.

And then there were her words. Rebecca never lied. Not once. Every phrase was crafted carefully, deliberately. Truth wrapped in mischief, sincerity shrouded in sass. She would say things like, "I’ve danced with death, but she’s not my type," or "I never asked to be strong, but I’ll break the world to keep them safe."

I leaned back in my seat, taking a deep breath as I rerouted one of my familiars to follow Rias. I wanted to see how she’d react when Rebecca inevitably challenged Riser.

And maybe, just maybe, I’d keep watching Rebecca a little longer.

For research purposes.

Definitely.

Not.

Repressed.

Chapter Text

{Raynare's POV}

Fucking bastard. I was a Fallen Angel who fell due to Lust years ago, and yet even I wasn’t as creepy as this chuckle-fuck sitting across the table from me. The only reason I even humored him with this farce of a date was to confirm whether or not the little shit actually had a Sacred Gear. And he did. Of course he did. Midway through our shitty ramen dinner, the faint glimmer of power clung to him like a wet towel to a stripper. I only had to make it to sunset before I could finally kill the annoying brat and be done with it.

Seriously, not only was he a perverted dumbass, but he also thought he was hot shit. Like flashing some cheap-ass tattoo was going to make me drop my panties. The motherfucker didn’t even know it said “PERVERT” in English. If I ever meet the tattoo artist who did that, I’m buying them a drink. Or maybe a blowjob. It depends on how funny their face is when I tell them what they did.

The sun was just about kissing the horizon when I leaned in close to him, putting on my sweetest, fakest fucking smile. “Hey, Issei-kun~,” I cooed, dragging the words out like honey. “Want to go for a walk with me? There’s this lovely little park nearby~.”

He got a hard-on. I actually saw it. The tent in his pants practically screamed I'm an idiot. Fucking pathetic. He probably thought he was about to get lucky. Not with me, sweetheart. Not ever.

“What are you thinking about, Yuuma-chan?” he asked, voice scraping against my nerves like rusted nails on glass.

I wanted to vomit.

"Well~, I was just thinking~, can you do me a favor, Issei-kun~?"

Fuck me, this cutesy act was physically painful. I walked ahead of him, swaying my hips just enough to sell the lie. I wanted to reach out and put my hand on his chest, maybe press him back and make him squirm, but that would’ve been more effort than he was worth. So instead, I leaned into his ear, voice low and sultry.

“Would you die for me~?”

I walked away, not even looking back. But of course, the bastard had to ruin the moment.

“Eh? Ehehehe? Yuuma-chan? Can you repeat that? I think I heard you wrong.”

I turned, dropping the act entirely. My grin spread like wildfire across my face, hot and unholy.

“I said~, would you die for me?”

As the illusion faded, I spread my wings and let my true self take center stage. Raynare. Beautiful, deadly, no more of that sweet little ‘Yuuma’ bullshit. I moaned softly as I stretched, feeling my true form settle back into place. Fuck, it was good to be back.

“Mmm~. Finally~.”

Issei’s jaw dropped. His dick twitched. Again. Fucking unbelievable. Even now, knowing I wasn’t human, he was still turned on. I almost wanted to gag.

“Yu-Yuuma-chan!?”

“Wrong name, sweetie.” I purred, conjuring a Light Spear in one hand. I didn’t hesitate. I hurled it straight into his chest.

“Hu-whu-huh...?”

Blood splattered across the pavement. His eyes widened. My smile widened with them. Finally. Fucking finally. One less problem in my way.

Mission almost complete.

Almost.

“3 out of 10, darling~. Took too long. Plus, you missed the fact that the boy was being tailed, and he had a Devil Contract on him.”

I jumped, literally, the sound of a gunshot and that sultry voice making every nerve in my body jolt. My eyes scanned down—no wounds. Not me. I turned my head sharply, and there it was—Issei’s pocket. Power, distinctly devil, was fading rapidly from it.

Fuck.

I turned my gaze toward the voice. And fuck me sideways.

She was a short thing. Not tiny, but compact in a dangerous, deadly way. Blue-green skin, a grin that screamed sex and violence, and almost no clothing to speak of. Tattoos covered her neck and stomach, a gun casually held in one hand like it was a goddamn fashion accessory.

“Who the hell are you?” I hissed, summoning another pair of Light Spears.

She tilted her head. “Tsk tsk~. No need to get so tense, sweetheart. If I wasn’t watching over your ass, you'd already be on Gremory's kill list. I just saved your feathered tits.”

There was something about her eyes. Something feral. Something dangerous. And yet I didn’t sense any malice. Just... hunger. Curiosity.

Still, I wasn’t about to lower my guard just because she was hot as sin. “I’ll ask again. Who. Are. You?”

Her smirk deepened, lips curling like she enjoyed watching me squirm.

“Me~? I’m your fucking new master, darling~.”

She vanished.

No, not vanished—moved. One second she was standing across the park, the next, her fingers were trailing along the curve of my wings. I shuddered, moaning softly before I could stop myself. Her touch was featherlight, precise, wicked.

“Mmm~. Such curious little things~." she whispered near my ear, breath hot and soft.

“Fuck off!” I tried to twist, to raise my spear, to strike her—but the moment her fingers danced near the base of my wings, my body betrayed me. A moan escaped my lips, involuntary and humiliating.

“Sensitive here~? I’ll remember that for later~.” she purred, her voice like velvet dragging along bare skin.

“Get... get away from me.” I growled, wings trembling, my entire body burning with confusion, lust, and rage.

“No~,” she whispered, mouth so close I could feel it. “You and your merry little band of misfits better scurry along~. The devils are almost here, and you’re not ready for that dance.”

And just like that, she was gone. Disappeared like a breeze.

My knees hit the ground, body spasming, wings twitching wildly. I gasped. Shuddered. Realized with absolute horror that I had fucking came from a touch. A single touch.

“What... the fuck... was that?” I whispered to no one, teeth grinding as I forced myself upright.

I didn’t have time to process what just happened. All I knew was that I needed to get the hell out of here. If what she said was true, if Issei had a devil contract on him... fuck. Gremory’s clan would be on my ass faster than a horny incubus.

Before I left, I turned back to the corpse and sneered.

“Just to be sure.” I muttered, summoning holy fire. The bastard’s body erupted in cleansing light, burned to nothing in seconds.

No reincarnation. No evidence. Nothing left.

As I took to the sky, I didn’t look back. But I couldn’t get her voice out of my head.

I’m your fucking new master, darling~.

And the worst part?

Some traitorous part of me didn’t mind.

In fact, it thrilled me.

Fuck.

{Rias's POV}

Hyoudou Issei—where do I even begin with that boy? Without a doubt, he was the most hopelessly perverted man I had ever met, and that’s saying something, considering my fiancé was Riser Phenex himself. And yet, even with all his flaws and lewd outbursts, Issei was still my adorable little kouhai. There was something hidden deep within him—some kind of potential that my Peerage and I were quietly invested in uncovering. Something more than just his lust or loud proclamations of becoming a Harem King. We had taken to watching him closely, especially once a suspicious woman started taking interest in him.

It wasn’t like I wanted to assume the worst. I wanted to believe in him, believe he could attract someone naturally, someone normal. But the truth was far from pleasant. No ordinary woman would willingly ask Hyoudou Issei on a date—not unless she had a similar level of perversion or a damn good reason to. When my precious little Rook overheard that a woman named Yuuma had asked Issei out on a date scheduled for Sunday, our instincts flared. We moved fast.

Come Sunday, everything had been set. My familiar had been the one to deliver a Devil Contract to Issei under the guise of a casual offer. It was just a precaution, one that would alert me to danger if anything went wrong. The rest of my Peerage was also involved—Akeno had deployed her familiar from above, Kiba kept to the shadows, and Koneko-chan tailed the couple with her usual quiet diligence.

For a while, things were quiet. Too quiet. Koneko-chan kept her distance—close enough to monitor but far enough to avoid being spotted. She couldn’t get a clear read on the Yuuma woman; even her powerful senses couldn’t catch a solid whiff. That unsettled me. Usually, Koneko could tell human from Devil, Devil from Angel, and especially anything else. But this time, nothing. Her senses were as muted as the still afternoon air.

Then the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, painting the town in warm hues of gold and amber. And that's when things started to go wrong. One by one, our familiars stopped reporting. First mine. Then Akeno’s. Then Kiba’s. At first, we thought it was a communication failure. Then came the silence—the eerie, all-consuming kind. As if the world itself held its breath.

Later, we learned they had all fallen asleep at the same time, as if lulled by some unknown spell or force. That shouldn't have been possible, not with the wards we kept on our familiars. Still, what truly sealed our fate was Koneko’s sudden distraction. Of all things—it had been the scent of sugary treats wafting in from Rebecca-san’s newly opened café. That café, with its divine aroma and enchanting presentation, had proven too tempting even for my usually steadfast Rook.

I can’t fault her too much for it. Rebecca-san’s baking could make even a dragon weep with joy. But still, the timing couldn’t have been worse. Koneko had trailed off for just a moment—long enough for us to lose sight of Issei. That damn café...

The Devil Contract hadn’t sent out a signal, which gave me temporary relief. But it didn’t last long. Moments later, we felt it—the unmistakable signature of magic being used. And it wasn’t the sort we recognized. Not from Sona’s Peerage; they were still occupied with school matters. Not from Rebecca’s either; they were overrun with customers. That left one conclusion: an unknown.

With my heart hammering in my chest, we rushed toward the source—Kuoh Park. As we approached, we could sense that the Human Ward around it had just dropped. Disappeared. Vanished into nothingness as though someone had manually disabled it, or it had been unraveled from the inside. That wasn’t just careless—it was intentional.

Koneko stopped in her tracks, her nose twitching. Her golden eyes widened, then narrowed with sudden clarity. "The smell of blood..." she murmured.

That was all it took.

We sprinted. Hearts pounding. Mind racing. And then—there it was.

The body.

Near the fountain, lying sprawled and grotesquely still, was a charred corpse. Its clothes were nearly unrecognizable, burnt into black tatters. Skin, what was left of it, clung to the bones like thin sheets of ash. But it was the smell—burnt flesh, scorched cloth, faint traces of smoke and copper—that sealed it.

Koneko stopped just short, her voice strangely soft. "Senpai... that smells like perv—Hyoudou-san."

Not even she, for all her disgust toward perverts, could bring herself to insult him now. That alone twisted something in my chest.

I crouched beside the remains, slowly, reverently. The acrid scent of cooked meat clung to the air, but I pushed past it. His face... was barely there. But his shape, the faint spiritual signature lingering despite the damage, and Koneko’s keen nose all pointed to the same truth.

"I'm so sorry, Issei-kun," I whispered, fingers trembling just above his ruined chest. "I wanted to save you. We should’ve been faster. We should’ve done more."

Akeno stood behind me, her hand gently brushing my shoulder. She said nothing, letting the silence stretch, giving me the space I needed. Finally, I drew in a breath, one that tasted of fire and regret.

"He deserves dignity, even in death."

I called on my Power of Destruction. A single sphere of crimson energy shimmered in my palm. It hovered for a moment before descending, carefully, until the body vanished in a burst of soft red light. Gone. No evidence. No trace. Only memory.

"Koneko-chan, Kiba-kun," I said, rising to my feet, voice firm. "Fan out. Look for anything—anything—that could lead us to whoever did this to my precious kouhai."

They moved immediately, splitting off in opposite directions, their forms quickly swallowed by the trees and shadows of the park.

Behind me, Akeno spoke softly. "What are we going to do, Rias?"

I turned to her, my eyes sharp with purpose. "We talk to Sona. And Rebecca-san. Whoever this was, they attacked someone under our watch—on our turf. That makes it personal."

Akeno nodded, but there was hesitation in her gaze. "You think it’s tied to the recent anomalies? The tremors in the ley lines, the strange magical signatures?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Too many coincidences. Too many unknowns. We’re not dealing with a random act of violence. This was deliberate. Calculated."

She crossed her arms, her expression darkening. "Then let’s find out who dared challenge the Gremory name."

As we left the park, I cast one final glance over my shoulder. The space where Issei had fallen now lay quiet, undisturbed. But I could still feel his presence—faint and flickering. His dream of a harem. His ridiculous persistence. His heart, so foolishly brave.

I clenched my fists.

"I promise you, Issei-kun... I will avenge you."

We reconvened at the clubroom that night. Everyone was tense, even Koneko. The scent of death still lingered faintly on her clothes, and she hadn’t said much since we returned.

Rebecca-san arrived shortly after we sent word. Her usual confidence hadn’t dulled, though her expression was tighter than normal. Her short frame didn't make her any less intimidating—especially with the glint in her eyes that said she'd seen more than her share of war.

"Rias," she greeted, her voice steady. "You said someone died."

I nodded. "Hyoudou Issei. We found his corpse, burned beyond recognition."

She paused, absorbing the weight of that, then crossed her arms. "Details?"

We shared what we knew, and I noticed the way she watched each of us speak—not in suspicion, but with a kind of detached analysis, as if she were noting every word, every flicker of hesitation. Her replies were blunt, efficient, and never quite emotional. But nothing she said was untrue, either.

It was unnerving how clean her phrasing always was. Almost... too careful.

Sona and Tsubaki arrived soon after, and the conversation became a full-scale strategy meeting. They listened closely, Sona's brows furrowed in thought.

"This woman, Yuuma. Could she be a stray Angel? Or something else?"

"I couldn’t get a read on her," Koneko admitted, brows knitting together. "It was like her scent wasn’t real."

Rebecca leaned forward. "Illusion? A borrowed form? Could be a fragment or projection, not a physical body."

Sona nodded slowly. "In which case, this wasn’t an isolated event. It was a test. Or a message."

I spoke then, firm and final. "Whatever it was, they’ve declared war."

My Peerage stood behind me, united. Rebecca’s expression didn’t change, but I could tell something in her had shifted too.

This wasn’t over. Not even close.

And whoever dared take Hyoudou Issei from us?

They were going to regret it.

I would make sure of it.

{Rebecca's POV}

Well, that was easy—almost too easy, if I'm being honest. Taking [Covert Talent] had to be one of my top-tier decisions to date, and that’s saying something considering the absurd amount of power-stacked bullshit I’ve pulled so far. With it, slipping through the shadows was as natural as breathing, and tailing Raynare and Issei on their little "date" turned out to be the funniest shit I’d seen in weeks. Maybe months. I don't really keep track of time unless it starts fucking with my schedule.

Raynare’s got the chops for deception, sure. I’ll give her that. Bitch can act. But with my [Communication Talent], cold reading her was a breeze—like peeling a banana with one hand while drinking espresso with the other. I didn’t even need to try all that hard. Add in my [Lilitu Heritage], and yeah, reading her desires was like flipping through a picture book written by a horny teenager. What she really wanted was to be done with Issei and all his sad, pathetic, hormone-fueled attempts at charm.

Watching that so-called date unfold in real time was like witnessing a train wreck, except the train was made of red flags and the wreckage smelled like Axe body spray. Issei was trying so fucking hard it was painful. Like, who the fuck wrote his lines? A Reddit thread from 2008? Every time he opened his mouth, I swear a little piece of my brain just wanted to die. He was out there quoting shit that made him sound like a cross between a discount gigolo and a failed Twitch streamer. I mean, if your pickup lines make Raynare of all people wince behind her smile, you're doing something wrong. Tragically wrong.

And don't get me started on the misogyny. Fucking hell, he was spewing lines like he was quoting scripture from the Gospel According to Incels. Like, sure, I get it—dude’s been horny since birth and he’s got tits on the brain, but even then, you'd think he’d have at least some level of basic social awareness. But nope. Nothing. The man’s got the charm of a moldy sock.

Despite all that, Raynare kept her act up beautifully. She didn’t even flinch when he said some truly cringe-worthy shit. Props to her for that. But the real fun began when she started prepping for the kill. That was when the show got interesting. I had already made sure that her little performance wouldn’t be interrupted. Familiars, Kiba and Koneko had been tailing them at first, probably on Rias’s orders, but that wasn’t going to be a problem.

Saya helped me out there. Putting the familiars to sleep took a little effort, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Kiba took some time as well, but I was able to redirect his attention enough for Raynare and Issei to lose him. Koneko was easier. Coincidentally, and I do mean that in the loosest possible sense, she happened to pass by the café I’d set up as my front, and that was all the distraction I needed. A little magical bait, a little charm, and poof—both babysitters and the pets were out of the way. Issei and Raynare were all alone now, just the way she wanted.

So, I let the scene unfold. I didn’t interfere when she stabbed him. Didn't stop her when his heart stopped beating. I watched, cool and collected, as she struck him down without a hint of remorse. The dude didn’t even see it coming. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he probably died thinking he was about to get laid.

But I wasn’t just there to watch a snuff date. No, I had to make sure Rias didn’t yank him out of death with that devil contract she gave him. I saw it glow in his pocket the moment his soul started to slip. Without hesitation, I aimed and shot it. Dead center. The glyph shattered in a burst of crimson sparks, the connection severed before Rias could even twitch. No reincarnation for Issei. Not today.

After that, I figured I’d earned myself a little fun. Raynare was still reeling from the kill, blood on her hands and a half-smile on her lips. I let myself step into view, slow and deliberate, and gave her the kind of smirk that makes people second-guess their life choices. Teasing her was a goddamn delight. She wasn’t used to being on the back foot, not really, and I could tell just how much she hated being caught off guard.

I didn’t push her too hard, though. Just enough to fluster her a bit. Then, with a lazy shrug, I warned her—Rias and her Peerage were closing in fast. She didn’t thank me, of course, but I saw the way her eyes narrowed, calculating. Good. She got the message.

Thankfully, she’d made damn sure that Issei’s body wasn’t salvageable. Heart pierced, soul fading—no resurrection possible. I turned on my heel and walked away, clone fading behind me as I stepped back into the alleyway’s shadows. Yeah, I could do clones now. Not quite Shadow Clones—those were still out of reach—but a basic projection? That I had down. One at a time, for now. More would come with practice.

Eventually, I returned to my tattoo parlor, shut the wards, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. That mess was handled, no strings left dangling. I barely had time to kick back before Rias’s message reached me, summoning me to a meeting with her and Sona. Predictable. I wasn’t an overseer like they were, but I did live in their territory, and any attack within it concerned me by default.

I showed up, clean and composed, like I hadn’t just watched a murder and casually deleted a contract glyph with a flick of my fingers. Rias and Sona were already deep in discussion, but they acknowledged me with polite nods. No one questioned me—no probing, no accusations. Good. Not that I couldn’t handle it if they did. I had contingencies stacked like cards in a rigged deck. Even my words were prepped in advance—looped, twisted truths that wouldn’t fuck me over.

The meeting went as expected. They agreed to increase patrols, step up surveillance, and be more vigilant going forward. I nodded where appropriate, added a few noncommittal suggestions that sounded helpful but didn’t tie me to shit. Rias asked me to be careful out there. I gave her a wry smile and a promise that I’d try not to get caught up in anything too messy.

After that, I headed home, finally free of obligations for the night. I didn’t collapse into bed or anything overly dramatic. No, I just walked into my room, lit a cigarette, and sat on the windowsill, watching the stars. One less idiot in the world. One more victory under my belt.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow’s another day for chaos.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

With Issei's death, I managed to complete an [Additional Objective] from my [Bindings? Who Needs Them?] [Mission]. The objective had been laughably simple on paper: ensure no one falls in love with Issei Hyoudou. And now? Well, with the boy dead, it’s not like anyone can fall in love with him anymore. A bit morbid, sure, but rules are rules. So now, in exchange for his exit from the stage, I had the fucking Boosted Gear strapped to my soul. And gods, what a Power Boost it was—pun very much intended.

And yes, her.

<Very strange. You are a Devil, and yet you aren’t. Definitely not human either. Strange.>

That was Y Ddraig Goch—the Red Dragon of Domination, the soul within the Sacred Gear—clearly and unmistakably female in this incarnation. That had surprised me the first time. Now? I’d shrugged it off like most of the weird shit in my life.

<Certainly better than my last host.> she muttered with a tone bordering on joy. I just lifted a shoulder in response, not particularly offended. Issei had the subtlety of a brick and the foresight of a toddler. Of course I'd be the better host.

<Hmm. Definitely better.>

Her grudging approval gave me a strange sense of satisfaction, but I shelved that feeling for now. I had bigger problems to tackle. Like, for instance, the Boosted Gear being bonded to someone everyone believed was a Pureblooded Devil. That was a hell of a red flag.

See, Sacred Gears weren’t exactly common, nay, it was an impossibility, among Purebloods. It would lead people to believe I had human ancestry, and that assumption came with all kinds of messy implications. Some might believe I was a Half-Blood masquerading as a Pureblood. That would bring scrutiny I had no time or patience for. The whole thing was a tangled mess waiting to trip me up, and I was not interested in falling face-first into that pit.

Especially not when the truth was so much worse.

Because while I could spin it to make it look like I was just a particularly lucky Pureblood, the truth was I was the last surviving descendant of the True Leviathan And if that got out? I'd either be assassinated quietly by those afraid of what I represented or pressed into servitude by the higher-ups who'd want to use me as a pawn in their ancient, boring games. Neither was acceptable.

Honestly, the logical path would've been giving the Boosted Gear to one of my lovers. I could have passed it off as an act of trust or affection—plausible, believable. But let’s be real here. There was no way in all the burning hells that I was giving up the Boosted Gear. Not when I had the opportunity to wield its power personally.

So, the next best option? Go straight to the Satans.

Spin a tale. A believable one. That I had no clue how I ended up with the Boosted Gear. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. I knew why I got it—because of the [Additional Objective]—but the process itself? That was... nebulous. Vague. Left enough ambiguity for me to stretch it into something usable.

I’d say something along the lines of waking up with it, maybe feeling something change in the middle of the night. Maybe I'd experienced a vision or a calling. Add just enough mysticism, and it becomes a narrative. One they can manipulate, one they can manage.

And if I whispered carefully enough, I could place the blame where it belonged—on the Heaven’s System. After all, it was already on the record, among the higher-ups, that Balance Breakers were signs of a system out of control. Me acquiring a Sacred Gear as a Pureblood could be spun into the same kind of anomaly. A glitch. A hiccup. An unintended reward.

The Satans would eat that shit up.

They’d handle the spin, of course. An experiment. A peace gesture. Whatever worked best to keep the peace between factions. Whatever kept me from being burned alive at the stake of political paranoia.

<That’s a rather risky plan, partner.> Ddraig cut in, her voice curling around my thoughts like smoke.

I nodded. "Yeah, it's risky... unless I make it less so."

<Hah! I don’t really know anything about this [Waifu Catalog] thing, but if you can do it, please do.>

Of course, she could hear my thoughts. With her nested inside me, she had front-row seats to every twisted idea and half-formed scheme in my mind. It was kind of endearing, in a weird, draconic, possessive way.

With her approval secured, I summoned the Boosted Gear. Crimson energy flared along my arm as the gauntlet materialized, looking sleek, polished, and full of latent violence. Without hesitation, I pressed my [Mystical Tattoo] against the surface, feeling the script sear into the construct of the Gear itself. A binding, a claim, a beginning.

Now I wait. Three days. That’s how long it would take for the integration to settle, and for my theory to be proven true.

<Hmph. It better. I'm tired of living inside this crappy container.>

I snorted at her grumbling. She had every right to be annoyed, honestly. Ddraig was a being of war and glory. Being trapped in a soul-sealed prison that had been passed around like a cursed family heirloom wasn’t exactly dignified.

Hopefully, if my theory panned out, Ddraig would manifest like the Regulus Nemea had for Sairaorg. Not fully separate from the Gear, but distinct. Real. A being of power and identity tethered to me through more than just a contract.

<If this works, partner, then I will be forever in your debt. And if I shall become your lover to repay such a debt, then I certainly don’t mind.>

That made me grin.

She was definitely serious. And probably desperate. Centuries, millennia even, sealed away in silence and rage and longing—yeah, she was overdue for something more tangible. I didn’t blame her. Hell, I understood her.

<Hmph. Don’t take this the wrong way, partner, but I’ve scoured through your memories. I’ve seen what you’ve done, what you plan to do, and your potential. These are the reasons why I feel that being yours forever doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, I’m the one getting the better end of the deal here.>

That earned a laugh from me.

The idea of this ancient, proud, battle-scarred dragoness flustered by her own feelings was just too perfect. I pictured a massive, regal beast blushing, wings twitching in embarrassment. She huffed again, clearly aware of my mental image.

Good.

That matter settled, I rolled my shoulders and cracked my knuckles. There was still work to do. I had power to consolidate, truths to manipulate, and pawns to line up on the board.

Now that the Boosted Gear was mine, it was only a matter of time before the whole damn chessboard changed.

And I intended to be the one flipping it.

Time to start collecting what I own~.

{Raynare's POV}

With the death of one of the more dangerous Sacred Gear users—some dumb, horny bastard who couldn't keep it in his pants, whose name I've already forgotten in barely a day—I found myself inching closer to Lady Azazel’s good graces. Not that I really gave a fuck about him as a person, but a win was a win. It wasn’t like that idiot was subtle about his Sacred Gear. Flashing it around like it was his dick on a hot summer day, even if he didn't realize it, which just showed how much of a threat he could be if he was made aware of it and awakened it. Still, it brought me closer to her. Closer to Lady Azazel.

Sure, I wasn’t a fan of working under Lord Kokabiel. He was a loud, arrogant prick who thought the sun shone out of his own wings. But power was power, and if completing this mission meant I got bumped up in rank, then fine. I could stomach working under his condescending ass for a while longer. All of it for her. Her Lady Azazel.

Still, despite the small victory, my thoughts kept drifting. I couldn’t stop thinking about that woman. The one who’d shown up out of nowhere a few days ago, saving my ass from getting blasted by some overzealous Gremory goons. She said I wasn’t being hunted because of her. That I was still walking free because she made it so. That she was my "new Master."

Fucking bitch.

Who the hell did she think she was, waltzing into my life, looking like a goddamn sex demon in leather and guns, and deciding that she owned me? No matter how hot she was—and fuck, she was scorching—I wasn’t going to kneel for some random bitch with a God complex. The only time I’d be on my knees was if it was for Lady Azazel’s cock, and that’s gospel.

"Oy. Donhaseek. How’s your progress with the other Sacred Gear user?" I asked, stretching my back, deliberately casual, even as I kept one eye on our surroundings.

He scowled, kicking a piece of rubble as he replied, "Tch. The fucking Devils got to him first. No shot at taking him out now."

I side-eyed him, barely keeping the disgust off my face. Fucking useless. Kokabiel wasn’t going to be happy about that one, but hey—blame was easy to assign when you weren’t the one who fucked up.

"Well then," I said, brushing some dirt off my coat, "guess all we can do now is wait for that stupid nun to show up. Few more days and we can finally get the fuck out of this dump."

The basement of this ruined church smelled like moldy pews and regret. Cracked tiles, rusted pipes, the occasional dead rat. Honestly, I was amazed the Devils hadn’t cleared this place out themselves. It wasn’t like the Angels gave a shit—it was already in ruins when we found it.

"Seriously?! We’re staying here again?!" Mittelt, our resident brat, whined.

I sighed, biting back the urge to slap her. "It’s just a few more days, Mittelt. Don’t have a meltdown."

Kalawarner, ever the bleeding heart, gently patted the shorter girl’s back. "We’ll manage. It’s temporary."

Truth be told, Kalawarner never belonged in this world. Not in the sense that she didn’t fit the mission—but in the sense that she never should’ve been a Fallen. Fucking Father and his sanctimonious bullshit. So what if she snapped and killed a bastard about to execute a child? Heaven had always been full of hypocrites.

"As long as I get to kill a few devils, I don't fuckin' mind." came Freed's voice, laced with that usual deranged glee.

I rolled my eyes. The lunatic human we’d dragged along for this mission was always frothing at the mouth to kill something. Anything. Preferably something that screamed.

"Yeah, yeah, just don’t go nuts and draw attention," I muttered, watching him from the corner of my eye. "Last thing we need is a Satan crawling up our asses."

Freed twitched at the mention, giving a half-assed laugh. "Ugh. As long as I get to fuck some shit up, I'm good."

I was about to retort with something scathing when a sultry, teasing voice echoed from behind us.

"Hmm~? What if you're the one that gets fucked up~?"

The hairs on the back of my neck rose.

That wasn’t any of us.

I whipped my head around and froze. There she was. The bitch from before. The woman who claimed to be my new Master, who’d saved me for some inexplicable reason, standing there with that smug, wicked smile. But before I could bark a command, I heard screaming.

Freed.

Turning on instinct, I saw a tall, dark-skinned woman with wild purple hair and two unnaturally shaped swords stabbed clean through Freed’s shoulders. He shrieked, blood gushing like a fountain.

Then Donhaseek made a move, and an orange-haired woman with a spear lunged from the shadows, impaling him through the heart with a clean, calculated thrust.

"Ah~, ah~, ah~. I wouldn’t do that if I were you~." came the green-skinned woman’s voice again.

My head snapped back around. Chains of swirling water wrapped around both Mittelt and Kalawarner, suspending them mid-air, unable to move.

"Hello again, Raynare~."

And just like that, for the first time in years, real fear crept into my bones.

There hadn’t been a sound. Not a hint of their presence. And now everyone—everyone—but me was either dead or incapacitated. I thought she was just some random crazy bitch with a fetish for dramatics. Turns out she was a nightmare with a pretty face and no regard for subtlety.

"Aw~. Don’t be like that, my dear~. I’m not here to hurt you. Unless you want me to~..."

Goddamn it.

My cheeks heated as she stepped closer, eyes gleaming with feral amusement. There was something wrong with the way she moved—graceful, dangerous, too smooth to be normal. And her scent? I hated how it made my body react.

"Wh-what are you doing here? And why are you attacking us?!" I demanded, trying to get some footing in the madness.

She didn’t stop moving. Just casually tapped her boot against the floor and tilted her head.

"Why~? Well, other than preemptively keeping you from attacking me, it’s because you’re trespassing, love. You’re in Devil Territory~. And I’m a Devil, you see~?"

The power swirling around her—fuck, it was real. I hadn’t felt it during our last meeting, but now that she wasn’t hiding it... it was overwhelming. The air hummed with it. Devil power, feral and thick, curling around her like a second skin.

"Oh~, no need to be scared, my little fallen angels~. I’m not here to torture you. Unless you’re into that kind of thing~."

She pulled a gun from her coat. Not a normal one either—its barrel gleamed with arcane runes.

"Him however," she continued, pointing it right at Freed, who had been groaning and cursing this whole time, "I'm very happy to shut up permanently."

The second that barrel pointed at him, he went silent. Smart choice.

"Good~! Now that the buzzing fly’s shut up, let’s talk business. Though, this place?" She wrinkled her nose, glancing around the ruined basement. "Ugly as fuck. Let’s relocate."

She snapped her fingers. A glowing glyph appeared beneath us, and just like that, the damp rot of the church was gone.

We were in a lavish, gold-trimmed living room.

It looked like it belonged to some noble from a fantasy novel. Plush couches. Silken drapes. A faint scent of lavender in the air.

"Much better~! Now, let’s talk about your new job under my employment~!"

I stood frozen, still reeling, still trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

And for the first time since she walked into my life, I didn’t have a single word to say.

I just stared.

And she smiled.

Like she already owned me.

The woman—Rebecca, as she called herself—was one crazy-ass bitch. There was just no sugarcoating that. From the moment she strolled into our lives, guns blazing and brutality practically dripping from her boots, it was clear she wasn’t someone you fucked with lightly. But damn if she didn’t ooze power. Not the kind you shout about in court meetings or write songs about—no, this was the kind of raw, visceral force that made your instincts scream to kneel or run.

I’d heard of the Pillar House Glaysa-Labalos before, in passing. It didn’t carry the same weight as the Gremorys or the Sitris in the usual political circles, but if you knew your shit, you’d recognize the danger there. Especially because Falbium fucking Asmodeus used to be part of that family before he rose to Satanhood. Which meant—lucky fucking us—Rebecca wasn’t just some random psycho. No, she was his younger sister. A goddamn sibling of one of the Four Satans. Fucking fantastic.

So yeah, curse my fucking luck. But at the same time? Thank every higher being I could remember that she didn’t just obliterate us like she did Donaseek. That poor bastard never even got a final word out before her Knight killed him before he could reacr. Instead, she spared me, Mittelt, and Kalawarner. Claimed we’d be working for her now. Our job? Protect her adopted daughter.

At first, I thought it was a death sentence in disguise. I mean, who the hell puts the people they just beat the shit out of in charge of guarding someone precious to them? That’s either supreme arrogance or a trap. But if it was a trap, it was one we were all still alive in—so far.

But we weren’t exactly babysitters. More like the first line of meat shields. Because that kid already had a whole trio of terrifying protectors: Rebecca’s Rook, her Knight, and her Pawn. All women. All loyal. All powerful enough that the three of us would stand less of a chance in a real fight than a marshmallow in a furnace.

So yeah, we played along. Kalawarner, Mittelt, and I kept our heads down, followed orders, and waited. Kokabiel had to have noticed by now that we’d gone silent. Once word reached Lady Azazel, she’d either send someone to negotiate or burn this bitch to the ground. Preferably the second option. Though realistically, that’d start a war. And no one wanted a war. Still... it was a nice thought.

“It’s weird, but I’m kind of digging it.” Mittelt said one evening, lifting her shirt to poke at the black ink curling across her lower belly.

Yeah. The tattoos. All three of us had one now. Womb tattoos, inked just above the crotch. Rebecca had given them to us herself—hand-drawn, while she was shirtless and humming some off-tune melody. She’d said they’d make us stronger in a few days.

At first, I’d called bullshit. Then I got paranoid, thought they were some kind of enslavement seals. But after combing through them with every scrap of magical knowledge I had, I came up empty. No curses. No binding spells. No enchantments. Just ink.

Honestly? That was more disturbing.

“Still don’t get how these are supposed to help us.” Mittelt muttered, eyebrows furrowed.

I nodded in agreement. It didn’t make sense. They weren’t magical, at least not in any way we understood. And yet... ever since we got them, something inside me had started shifting. Like my body was buzzing, like I was tuning into a frequency I hadn’t noticed before. It was subtle, but it was there.

Still, that wasn’t the weirdest part.

No, the real mindfuck was her. Rebecca. This unpredictable storm of chaos, violence, and unsettling charm. We’d expected her to torture us, force us into obedience, maybe even turn us into her fucktoys if she felt particularly sadistic. And she had made threats. She had teased. But instead of brute force, she... seduced us.

And I don’t mean that metaphorically.

She looked at us like we were puzzles she was figuring out one piece at a time. Every word she said was laced with some playful threat or flirtatious jab, but none of it felt accidental. She never said anything she didn’t mean. Her eyes, glowing faintly with that neon sheen, always locked onto you like she was seeing straight into your core.

I should have been furious. We all should’ve. But instead?

I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

About the way she walked through the hallway with that arrogant strut, tight leather pants hugging her hips like they’d been made for her alone. Her voice was like whiskey poured over ice—rough, smooth, dangerous. And her laugh? Fuck. It was the kind of sound that made your knees weak and your crotch ache.

Even Kalawarner—stoic, distant Kalawarner—had started sneaking glances at Rebecca when she thought no one was looking. And Mittelt? She was practically hanging off her every word, face flushed whenever Rebecca brushed past her a little too close.

And Rebecca knew. Of course she fucking knew. She’d say things like, “You girls gonna be good for me today?” with that crooked smile and tongue poking her cheek, and we’d all stiffen. Literally.

She toyed with us. Not cruelly—more like an older predator playing with her prey before the final pounce. She’d touch the small of Kalawarner’s back while passing by, or tuck a strand of hair behind Mittelt’s ear, and say shit like, “Cute,” in a voice too soft for comfort.

Then there were the private moments.

She’d catch me alone sometimes. In the kitchen. On patrol. In the bath.

“Raynare,” she’d say, my name rolling off her tongue like a sin made manifest. “You always this tense? Or is it just me?”

And I’d bristle, try to say something biting, but her smile would widen, and I’d forget what language was.

“Maybe you just need to relax a little. Let go.”

Like hell I would. But my body didn’t get the memo.

Mittelt was worse. She’d openly flirt back now, cheeks red, voice high, eyes shining with that dangerous spark. “If you wanted me naked, you could’ve just asked.” she joked once, and Rebecca only laughed—deep, throaty, unapologetic.

“Sweetheart, if I wanted that, you’d already be moaning my name.”

I swear, Mittelt nearly came on the spot.

Kalawarner was quiet about it, but I saw her. The way her gaze lingered a little too long. How her breath hitched when Rebecca leaned in too close, whispering something only she could hear. Her face stayed neutral, but her nipples were hard under that thin top, and no amount of acting could hide that.

It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t submission.

It was tension. Raw, pulsing, coiling heat between our legs.

I didn’t understand what the fuck Rebecca was doing, but it was working.

We were supposed to be her prisoners. Her enemies. Now we were... what? Servants? Pets? Playthings?

No. Not quite. It wasn’t like that.

We still had our pride. Our minds. Our bodies. But she was slowly wrapping herself around us, threading into our thoughts like a drug you didn’t know you were addicted to until it was too late.

And gods help me, I was getting used to it.

I caught her watching me one night. I was training alone in the courtyard, trying to keep my edge. Her silhouette was leaning against the wall, bathed in moonlight, cigarette glowing between her fingers.

"You fight like you're trying to outrun something." she said.

I paused. Sweat dripping down my spine, wings twitching. "Maybe I am."

She walked closer. Each step slow. Deliberate. Predatory.

"What are you so afraid of, Raynare? That I’ll break you? Or that you want me to?"

My heart slammed against my ribs. My mouth went dry. And I had no fucking answer.

She didn’t touch me. Just stared. Smirked. Then turned and left.

The next night, I couldn’t sleep.

I don’t know where this is all leading. None of us do. But I can feel it coming. A shift. A change. The tattoos on our wombs itch sometimes—not painfully, but like something’s growing inside us. Power, maybe. Or something darker. Something deeper.

And Rebecca? She keeps watching. Waiting. Smiling like she knows exactly how this ends.

Whatever game she’s playing, we’re already too deep to back out.

And maybe—just maybe—we don’t want to.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

Framing Freed and the stray exorcists as Issei's killers had been far too easy. It was almost disappointing how little effort it took. Rias, for all her intelligence and poise, clearly just wanted someone—anyone—to take the fall for what happened to her potential Pawn. That desperation made the whole setup smoother than I expected. Honestly, if I hadn’t been bound by certain constraints that made lying impossible for me, the whole thing could’ve been thrown together with a simple accusation and some tears. But no, I needed something elaborate. Something convincing. Something true enough.

So I planned.

Breaking into the ruined church was simple enough. Rei and Rika insisted on tagging along, not that I minded. I liked the way they moved in the shadows—professional, silent, deadly. The church had a lot of Stray Excorcists hiding inside of it, but slipping past them was easy. After that, we slipped into a room that could barely be called one, and there, I took the remaining pieces of the puzzle—Raynare, Kalawarner, Mittelt, and Freed. Donhaseek wasn't important, so Rei killed him almost immediately after Rika kept Freed from doing anything stupid. As for me, I just kept Kalawarner and Mittelt from casting any spells by trapping them in chains of water, while I simply intimidated Raynare with my presence. Then, not liking the place, I teleported us to my mansion. 

Once back in my space, I got to work. First, I dealt with the three Fallen Angels. I marked each of them with my [Mystical Tattoos], intricate etchings that pulsed softly with power as they latched onto their new hosts. The moment the [Bindings] finished syncing, they were [Captured] and added to my [Retinue]. They would wake up confused—terrified, most likely. The sudden shift in Race to Succubus would throw them off, but that wasn’t my problem. Not yet. I’d have a nice long chat with them later. For now, they were mine.

Freed was next. I didn’t bother pretending he deserved mercy. Hypnosis is a delicate art, but it becomes surprisingly effective when your subject is already half mad. I whispered a story into his mind—fabricated yet grounded in truth. A tale where he and a rogue band of Stray Exorcists had come to Kuoh Town looking to start shit. That one of those Strays had killed Issei, just for the thrill of it. Just chaos for chaos’s sake. I planted the details like seeds, letting them take root in the hollow garden of his psyche. He babbled the whole thing back to me, eyes glazed over. There was more fluff in there, sure—Freed always had a flair for the dramatic—but the important parts were locked in.

Once he finished reciting my crafted "truth," I bound him too. Three days later, once the [Bindings] fully settled, I gave him his final command: suicide. It wasn’t even a hard sell. Told him to do it before the Devils, that being me, could get their hands on him. He raised the gun with shaking hands, pointed it at his temple, and just as the bullet left the chamber, I sold him. Sold his soul mid-trigger pull. Neat and clean.

Then came the easiest part: reporting. I went to Sona and Rias, solemn-faced, and told them what Freed had told me. Every word of it. There was no lie. And just like that, the mystery of Issei's death was wrapped in a neat, bloody bow. Rias got her closure. Or, at least, something that looked like it.

Now came the fun part.

“How is it? Good?” I asked Rias with a grin, pouring her another cup of the dark, sweet tea I had specifically blended for her palate. She looked radiant in the café's soft lighting, the flush on her cheeks adding to her allure.

We were seated in my café, the whole place reserved just for her and her Peerage. Akeno and Koneko sat on either side of her, while Kiba took the seat beside Koneko. Their presence was expected—Rias rarely went anywhere without at least one of them in tow—but I only had eyes for her, for the time being.

“Are you serious, Rebecca-san!? These are the best!” Rias exclaimed, her delight shining through every syllable. She had already devoured half the tray of biscuits.

I smiled proudly. Sure, I had cheats when it came to cooking—thank you, Waifu Catalog—but even then, I took pride in every batch. “Very delicious.” Koneko muttered, her tone flat, but that was the most emotion I’d heard from her all day. Coming from Koneko, that was practically a glowing review.

“I'm glad you’re enjoying them,” I said, moving around the table until I was standing behind Rias. I reached down and gently brushed my fingers through her crimson locks. She flinched at first, but then leaned into it, just barely. Her blush deepened. “Morgana knows you deserve something nice after everything with Issei.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Rebecca-san.” Her voice wavered slightly, and I knew I was getting to her.

I let the silence stretch between us just long enough before whispering, “Anything for you, Rias~.”

Then, I took her hand gently in mine and pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles. She turned a deeper shade of red, eyes darting away.

At first, she had bristled at my flirtations. But she was an affectionate creature beneath all that pride, and over time, she had begun to respond to my touch with something more than embarrassment. Now, there was tension. A charge.

“Oh my~. If I didn’t know any better, Rebecca, I’d say you were courting our King.~.” Akeno teased, her voice as sultry as ever.

Rias laughed awkwardly, while Kiba chuckled beside her. Koneko, as always, was too focused on devouring her fourth pastry to give a damn.

I leaned in close to Rias’s ear, letting my breath tickle her skin. “Would it be so bad if I was~?”

That stopped the laughter cold. Akeno and Kiba both tensed, Koneko raised a brow but kept eating, and Rias… Rias froze. Her blush crawled all the way to her ears. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Perfect.

Clapping my hands, I stepped away. “Sadly, I’ve got matters to attend to.”

Raynare, Kalawarner, and Mittelt were now fully bound to me, their thoughts seeping into my head through [Conjugation]. They were confused. Scared. Perfect. I needed to soothe that confusion before it turned into rebellion.

“So I’ll have to leave you four to your food. Koneko, dear.”

The small white-haired girl looked up, her golden eyes narrowing slightly.

“If you want more, just ask Yuriko, okay~?”

She nodded once, solemnly, before turning back to the pile of sweets.

With a satisfied grin, I turned and walked away, leaving Rias gaping, her hand still hovering where my lips had touched.

Morgana, I loved that look.

Riling up women until they cracked and burned in the fires of their own desires? That was my kind of art.

And now, I had an entire trio of former Fallen Angels-turned-Succubi to mold into something beautiful.

I stepped into the backroom, locking the door behind me as their presences flared in my mind.

“Alright, my pretty little birds.” I murmured, rolling up my sleeves and flashing a wicked grin. “Let’s talk about your new lives.”

Rias would simmer. Akeno would start to wonder. Koneko would eat more than she felt. And Sona... Sona would watch. Cold, calculating. She'd be the hard one to crack. I'd get to her eventually. 

But that was fine.

I liked a challenge.

And Rias Gremory was already halfway mine.

{Mittelt's POV}

Well, Rebecca's certainly not all talk.

When she said that the womb tattoos would make us more powerful, she wasn’t exaggerating even a little. Power surged through our veins the moment three days had passed since getting them, not just physically, but mentally. It was like every strand of our being was being rewired, fine-tuned to perfection. The only catch? Raynare, Kalawarner, and I were no longer Fallen Angels. We’d become Succubi—extinct Demons that had been wiped off the map by the collective efforts of the Christian Pantheon. Our new reality came with a whole different set of expectations, instincts, and… appetites.

You’d think that’d fuck us up, right?

I mean, for centuries, Demons were the enemy. I was trained to fight them, to annihilate them without hesitation. Hell, even the word “Succubus” was practically synonymous with "enemy of God" in the circles I grew up in. So, by all accounts, I should’ve been screaming, Raynare should’ve had a breakdown, and Kalawarner should’ve been halfway into denial. But none of that happened. Well, okay—Raynare did start hyperventilating for like five minutes, and Kalawarner had that classic deer-in-headlights stare. But after that? We just sat there, looking at each other, confused as hell, waiting for the existential dread to kick in.

It never really did.

Turns out, being turned a Succubus wasn't all what the womb tattoos did to us. There was a mental shift. We were calm. Unnaturally calm. The kind of calm you only get when your mind refuses to spiral even when the world’s burning. I haven’t had a panic attack since the transformation. Not once. Not even a single fucking anxiety spike. I used to crash hard every few weeks, emotionally and magically, but now? Nothing. Steady as a fucking rock.

Honestly? I’ll take it.

Unlike Raynare and Kalawarner, who were first-generation Fallen Angels—meaning they’d fallen from grace—I was second-gen. Born a Fallen Angel. Never knew what being an Angel felt like, never tasted the light. So, I wasn’t quite as shattered about switching species. Didn’t have wings forged in Heaven to miss, didn’t mourn the loss of divine Light magic the same way they did.

Sure, it bothered me a little. I mean, who wouldn’t be pissed after being taught your entire life that Demons were abominations, only to become one yourself? It wasn’t easy to reconcile. But I guess I’ve always been a bit more adaptable. Where Raynare clung to her bitterness and Kalawarner drowned in Rebecca’s praise, I threw myself into research. Learning. Understanding what it meant to be a Succubus.

Demons, as a whole, had vanished before I was even born. Succubi even earlier than that. But some instinct woke up inside me. A knowing. And media hadn’t failed to fill in the gaps. Turns out, what you see in hentai and old grimoires isn’t far off—except now I was one, and I felt everything tenfold.

My magic shifted completely. Gone was the holy-tinged Light Magic of my Fallen Angel days. Instead, Illusions, Seduction, and pure Darkness became my new affinities. And they felt right. Like slipping into a second skin, silkier and more dangerous than anything I'd ever used before. I used to struggle with precision in my spells. Now, with Darkness Magic? I could weave it like embroidery, smooth and intricate, deadly and beautiful.

And it wasn’t just a racial change. Those womb tattoos Rebecca gave us? [Succubus's Mark]—they were more than magical branding. They were power, condensed and intimate, embedded into the core of our being. They taught us—faster. Combat skills came easier. Spells that used to take days to learn clicked within hours. My mana pool doubled, maybe tripled, and I didn’t burn out nearly as fast.

Rebecca said it would make us stronger, and yeah, it did. But it wasn’t just about power—it was about freedom.

She never lied. Not once. The way she talks—it’s like every word she utters carries weight, a kind of iron-clad certainty that makes it impossible to doubt her. She’s chaotic, yeah. Cusses like it’s punctuation and has zero filter, but when Rebecca says something, you feel it’s true. Like she speaks reality into being.

Raynare and Kalawarner, though? They’re still stuck on their worship of Lady Azazel, trying to hold onto the past like it’ll save them. They act like they haven’t already been remade into something better, like Rebecca isn’t right here offering them more than Azazel ever did. It’s kind of pathetic.

Not that I don’t get it.

Rebecca’s a walking paradox. Tiny, brutal, tender. Her voice alone can make you clench your thighs without meaning to. I’ve caught Kalawarner staring at her abs more times than I can count, tongue practically hanging out. And Raynare? That bitch is full-on smitten. She tries to hide it behind sass and superiority, but it’s obvious. Every time Rebecca gives her a command, she shivers like she’s about to come.

And me? Shit.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fantasizing about her almost constantly now. The tension in the air whenever she enters a room is fucking dense. Like heat rising before a thunderstorm. You can practically taste it—lust, power, anticipation. I feel my body react before my mind catches up. My thighs tighten, my breath shortens, and my mind starts racing with ideas that I definitely shouldn’t be having when trying to meditate or spar.

And the worst part? She knows.

Rebecca always knows.

She’ll look at you with those sharp-as-hell eyes and smirk like she can read your filthy little mind. And maybe she can. Maybe that [Talent for Reading People] she joked about isn’t a joke at all. Every time she leans in to whisper something crude, the air shifts. Kalawarner blushes like a schoolgirl. Raynare growls like she’s being edged. And me? I just freeze up, desperate to move, to touch, to beg.

But she doesn’t touch. Not yet.

She’s waiting. Teasing us. Drawing out every last bit of restraint like it’s a game she’s already won. And fuck if I’m not already broken.

It doesn’t help that Kalawarner and Raynare won’t shut up about her. Every night, they talk about what she’d feel like, what she’d taste like. It’s like being wrapped in a constant low-level orgy of unresolved sexual tension. They bathe together more often now, whispering and giggling like horny schoolgirls, throwing looks my way like they’re inviting me to join in. Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, I watch.

Kalawarner’s gotten bolder. She corners Rebecca when she thinks no one’s looking, pressing close, whispering things that make even Rebecca raise an eyebrow. Raynare, meanwhile, flirts like a fucking predator—taunting, smirking, all sharp edges and soft thighs. And every time she gets put in her place, you can tell she loves it.

They both do.

We all do.

And Father help us, Rebecca knows exactly what she’s doing. Every brush of her fingers, every command she gives us—it’s like foreplay. And we’re all wound so tight that the moment she finally snaps her fingers and says the word, we’re going to implode.

Sometimes I wonder if she’s dragging it out on purpose. Maybe she’s waiting for us to ask. To beg. To surrender. Or maybe she just wants to make sure we understand what it means to be hers.

And I do. I really, really do.

She’s not like the others. Not like Azazel. Not like any of the leaders I’ve ever known. Rebecca doesn’t command loyalty. She earns it. Demands it with her presence alone. You don’t follow her because she’s strong—you follow her because everything inside you screams that she’s right.

And yeah, maybe part of me misses the wings. Maybe I still think about what it meant to be a Fallen Angel. But when I look at Rebecca, when I feel the heat simmering under my skin, the strength in my limbs, the clarity in my mind—I know I made the right choice.

I’m not who I used to be.

I’m something more now.

{Ajuka's POV}

Continued observation of Rebecca had revealed more than I had expected. Of course, I already knew about her so-called "meta-knowledge"—a term she casually tossed out during one of her many maddeningly cryptic monologues. She described it as an awareness of the world’s events, not just as they were, but as they had been written, as though she were navigating a poorly plotted script. According to her, this world—our world—was the setting for some anime in another realm. A realm where Hyoudou Issei, of all people, was supposedly the Red Dragon Emperor and the main character. I nearly dismissed it as delusion... but then, evidence began to stack.

Rebecca didn't just claim the plot had changed. She broke it.

She kept Rias Gremory from saving him—Issei. That was meant to be his big turning point, the moment she was supposed to Reincarnate him and welcome him into her Peerage, tipping the scales of power in the Devils’ favor. But no. Rebecca interfered. Subtly. Carefully. Yet with terrifying efficiency. She delayed Rias. Distracted her. Changed her trajectory. And when the moment came, Issei bled out on the pavement with no magical hand to save him. I witnessed it all through my familiar, perched far above a tree in the park where it all happened.

Of course, I didn’t intervene. I never do. I simply watched, cataloguing every movement, every flicker of power, every cryptic word she spoke. Rebecca fascinated me—not that I’d ever admit it aloud. Her actions disrupted what could be attributed to as prophecy and twisted the balance of power among the Three Factions, yet I couldn't bring myself to step in. Not yet. I told myself it was academic curiosity, the scientist in me enthralled by an anomaly. It had nothing to do with how her voice wrapped around words like silk, or the way her eyes flickered with too much knowledge.

When she finally made her move, infiltrating the abandoned church-turned-outpost, I nearly crushed the stem of my wine glass in anticipation. She didn’t go alone. Two members of her Peerage accompanied her—one of them cloaked in heavy chakra and laced with divine energy, the other carrying a gun that felt far more dangerous than its primitive form suggested. My familiar—an owl-like construct cloaked in enhanced stealth wards—followed from above. But stealth has its limits, and action has its price.

I lost track of them mid-fight. My familiar couldn’t keep up. Screams had never even echoed through the run-down walls, spells ripped through silently, all of it making their action unnoticed and efficient. Then, silence. When the familiar finally pushed through a gauntlet of Stray Exorcists, it was too late. Only the corpse of one Fallen Angel remained. No sign of Rebecca. No trace of her companions. No spiritual energy signature. Just... gone.

Worried? Me? No. Don’t be ridiculous. Concern implies attachment. I merely found the gap in data unsatisfying. And so I teleported the familiar straight to her mansion, bypassing several wards by exploiting a temporary gap in her barriers—which I had personally placed to allow such an act whenever. There, I discovered something both appalling and fascinating.

Three of the female Fallen Angels had been [Captured]. Not killed. Not imprisoned in the traditional sense. No, they were marked—each bearing Rebecca’s distinctive [Capture] sigil etched into the flesh of their wombs. A binding brand. A claim. And yet, they remained physically unrestrained, freely walking the halls of her estate like pampered pets. Curious.

For several days after that, little happened. Or, more precisely, nothing obvious happened. I monitored Rebecca’s movements closely, my familiar perched discreetly on the outer edge of her compound. She spent time alone, reading, meditating, speaking softly to her Peerage with that oddly warm, chaotic energy she seemed to radiate. Then came the twist.

She hypnotized a Stray Exorcist.

A man driven mad by divine exposure and fragmented doctrine, now whispering words not his own, framed with precision. Rebecca used him to create a narrative—a lie nestled inside enough truth to be believable. He told of betrayal, of internal power struggles, of a failed ritual gone awry. It was a story that framed the Exorcists, not the Fallen Angels, for the murder of Hyoudou Issei. She killed him, and then she used her puppet to cover her tracks.

Why? Why go through the trouble? It wasn’t like anyone could pin the death on her. But then again, Rebecca doesn’t act for convenience. She acts for narrative. For story. For control.

And just as the stray Exorcist pulled the trigger on himself, ending the performance with flair, his body vanished. Disintegrated into sparkling motes of light. Rebecca’s only comment?

"[Sold]."

Sold. The word echoed in my mind, over and over. Was it literal? Was there some market I wasn’t aware of? Could she trade people? Their souls? Their bodies? The mechanics eluded me, but the implications were as terrifying as they were tantalizing.

I wrote everything down, of course. I am, if nothing else, thorough. And while I told myself it was all just part of the analysis, my pen moved with more urgency than usual. Her unpredictability unnerved me. Excited me. Challenged me.

Three days passed.

The Fallen Angels changed.

Not physically at first. No, their energy signatures shifted. Their auras, once steeped in holy corruption and divine rebellion, twisted. Deepened. Grew seductive and feral. They were no longer Fallen Angels.

They had become Succubi.

My breath caught when I confirmed it. Succubi—beings we Devils had long since purged from existence. Dangerous. Unstable. Primal. A mirror of ourselves without restraint or reason. Yet here they were, walking Rebecca’s halls with swaying hips and glowing eyes, tethered to her by invisible chains of lust and loyalty.

How?

How did she do that?

Magic like that should be impossible. To transform a being of divine corruption into something so deeply demonic, so sexually charged and metaphysically potent—it was unheard of, for the normal people. I could possibly do it, but it would take time. The process should have killed them. But instead, they thrived. They worshipped her.

Not that I’m jealous. Of course not. I simply find the mechanics of it all fascinating. That’s all. I’m not dreaming of her voice purring into my ear, or her hands tracing runes across my skin. I’m not imagining her pressing me against a wall while whispering the secrets of the cosmos like a lullaby. That would be absurd.

I merely want to understand her. To peel back the layers. To strip her of every lie she never told, of every truth she carefully crafted. I want to unravel her until her essence lies bare before me, singing the melody of her mysteries.

It’s purely academic.

Right.

Nothing strange has happened since. Not overtly. But the tension in the air has shifted. The power vacuum left by Issei’s death, the twisting of fate, the rise of an unknown power manipulating divine and demonic alike... it’s all centered on her.

Rebecca.

What is she?

Who is she?

And how long can I pretend I’m not utterly captivated by her?

I’ll keep watching. Keep documenting. Keep my distance—for now. But one day, I will stand before her, not as Ajuka Beelzebub, not as a Devil King, but as a woman craving truth. And when that day comes... I’ll make her sing.

For knowledge. Obviously.

Nothing more.

Chapter Text

{Ddraig's POV}

My new host was a strange one.

In all the centuries I’ve been bound within this damned Sacred Gear, countless humans have come and gone—some brave, some cruel, some downright pitiful. Yet none of them, not a single one, ever made me feel the way she did. Rebecca.

From the moment I slipped through her memories, tasted the fabric of her soul, I knew—she was unlike the others. Not because she was particularly loving, nor because she was powerful. No. It was because she was real. Raw, brutal, chaotic, fierce. But beneath all that fire and fury was a current of something I had forgotten could even exist: care.

She didn’t frighten me, not like some of the others who wielded me before. And the so-called omnipotent organization that employed her—[The Company]—didn’t scare me either. Why would they? I had long ceased fearing things beyond my control. When you’ve spent millennias trapped inside a container, observing humanity through borrowed eyes, unable to touch or feel or live, you start letting go of things. Pride was the last to go. Even that had worn thin, corroded by centuries of numb detachment. So much time with nothing but silence and the muffled echoes of someone else’s life.

I stopped hoping.

But Rebecca… she changed that.

Hope. Real, fucking Hope. Not the kind that flickers just before death. Not a fragile wish cast in desperation. Hers was something deeper, something more solid. She offered it to me not with a speech, but with her presence—grounded, bold, unwavering. Even before she said anything, even before she opened that damned [Waifu Catalog], I could feel the shift. Like a storm on the horizon.

She called it a "UI"—some kind of interface, I suppose. Her eyes glowed faintly with it, shimmering data dancing in her irises like embers caught in the wind. I watched her scroll, her finger dragging across this list of insane, reality-defying options. The Catalog, she told me, belonged to [The Company], and they didn’t give a fuck about the rules of our universe. Or any universe. Physics? Morality? Time? All playthings to them.

That’s why her plan might work.

She wasn’t certain. She didn’t promise me anything. But there was a quiet certainty to her voice, and something in the way she said, “This should do it.” that made me believe. It wasn’t a lie. It couldn’t be. Rebecca didn’t lie—not the way others did. She twisted words, danced around truths, sure. But outright deception? No. Everything she said had an edge of reality to it, even when it sounded like madness.

She looked at me—well, at the gear housing my soul—and said, “You’ve waited long enough.”

Then she bought [Anthropize].

And the moment she did, I felt it. A ripple, deep in the core of my being. Like my essence had been gripped, tugged, molded. Something ancient stirred—something that had slumbered for so long, I had nearly forgotten it existed.

A body. My body.

It started as a tingle, a heat that coiled around my spirit, shaping form from nothing. My instincts flared to life, guiding me through the process like an echo of who I once was. Limbs. Skin. Breath.

Breath.

I breathed. And the scent that filled my nose was the most intoxicating, exhilarating thing I’d ever experienced. Air—real air. Rich, warm, tinged with the faintest notes of motor oil and ozone, of leather and steel. Rebecca.

My eyes fluttered open.

The world crashed into focus. Light. Color. Sound. It was overwhelming, beautiful. Painful in the most exquisite way.

And there she was.

Standing before me like some kind of war goddess made flesh. Arms crossed, hips cocked, a crooked grin playing on her lips. Her eyes—those maddening, piercing eyes—sparkled as they met mine.

“So?” she asked. “You good?”

Gods, her voice.

I didn’t mean to do it, not consciously. But I smiled. For the first time in... I don't even know how long. A real smile, not the metaphorical one I’d worn inside a mind. Muscles moved, cheeks lifted—I felt my expression. I felt.

Then I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around her.

Her body was soft. Warm. She smelled like trouble and comfort all at once. I buried my face in her shoulder and clung to her like she was the only solid thing in the universe. Maybe she was.

And I cried.

Not a single, dignified tear. No. I wailed.

Centuries of agony, of isolation, of bitter acceptance poured out of me like a broken dam. My body shook. My knees buckled. But she didn’t let go. She just held me tighter, whispering nothing, just breathing, just being there.

I cried for hours.

She never let go. Not once.

And in that embrace, I began to understand something I had forgotten. Something more powerful than fire or flight or might. I wasn’t just free—I was seen. Not as a weapon. Not as a dragon. Not as a prize to be wielded.

But as a person.

I whispered her name at some point. Rebecca. My partner. My savior. My strange, chaotic, brilliant host who shattered all the rules and rebuilt them around her own fucked-up logic.

She chuckled into my hair. “Yeah, yeah. I’m awesome. Took you long enough to notice.”

I could barely speak through the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

She looked down at me, her hand brushing through my hair in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You’re welcome, firecracker.”

Firecracker.

What a ridiculous nickname for a dragon. But I didn’t hate it.

That night, I sat beside her. Wrapped in her jacket, drinking tea that I could finally taste. It was bitter, but warm. Real. The most delicious that I have tasted to date. I stared at my hands for a long time—small, elegant fingers with sharp nails, covered in faint red scales that shimmered under the moonlight.

My form, as it turned out, was not what I expected. Feminine. Curvy. Beautiful, even. Rebecca had chosen well. She knew what I would like, what I would become. Maybe she didn’t tell me everything. Maybe she couldn’t. But her intentions were never in doubt.

She asked me if I wanted a mirror. I said no.

Not yet. I wanted to feel myself first. To be.

We talked. About the Catalog. About [The Company]. About her ridiculous plans. She wasn’t trying to take over the world, not really. She just wanted to protect the people she cared about—and in her own way, she cared about me too.

That truth sat in my chest like a flame, quiet and steady.

Rebecca never said the word “lover.” She didn’t need to. Her actions screamed it louder than any declaration ever could. She gave me what no one else had even tried to give me.

A fucking chance.

To live. To laugh. To cry. To fight again, if I chose to. And gods, did I want to. I wanted to burn everything that had ever hurt me. I wanted to repay the kindness in kind, tenfold, a thousandfold.

Rebecca looked at me as if I were more than a dragon. More than a tool. She looked at me like I mattered.

And maybe... maybe I did.

That night, when the stars were bright and the silence was soft, I whispered to her again.

"You gave me hope."

She blinked at me, almost confused.

"I thought you said that already." she said.

"I did. But I needed to say it again."

She smiled. That crooked, shit-eating grin of hers that somehow still looked sincere.

"You're welcome. Again."

We sat there, the dragon and her chaos-bringer. Two creatures cut from different cloths, united by fate, bound by something deeper than any contract or power. I didn’t know what the future held. I didn’t care.

For the first time in forever, I was alive.

And I wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.

{Rebecca's POV}

I turned Ddraig into my Pawn not long after arriving in this world. She didn't resist, didn't rage, didn’t even blink. There was a power gap between us, sure—massive, even—but that didn’t matter in the face of my [Retinue] perks. Being a part of that little collection made it so I could reincarnate her into a Devil and assign her to my side. And she didn’t mind. Not even a little. Maybe she found something she respected in me, maybe it was something else, or she was just grateful, but she accepted her place without fuss. That alone earned her my attention, if not immediate affection.

As my 9th Pawn piece, Ddraig brought with her [20 Credits] and the [Apportation Perk]. That last one was a fucking sweet. With some focus, I could teleport myself and my [Retinue] to each other instantly—no bullshit, no summoning circles, just pop and we’re there. It turned the entire world into something smaller, more manageable. It wasn’t just about convenience or escape, either. No, the biggest blessing it gave me was peace of mind. If Alice—my daughter, my heart—was ever in danger, she could teleport to me. Or I could teleport to her. That certainty made the constant gnawing fear for her safety quiet down into a dull murmur. That alone made it worth it.

With Ddraig comfortably settled, I turned my attention toward more mundane matters—if you can call the Waifu Catalog mundane. I had [142 Credits] on hand, and I wasn’t going to let them gather dust. Even if the location in the plot I was in didn’t pose any real threat right now, I wasn’t the kind of woman who left things to chance. I browsed through the [Defenses] section, picking out the first levels of [Wild, Environmental, Creature, Mind, Possession, Drain, and Wyldscape Defense]. A bit of overkill? Maybe. But I’ve seen how fast everything can go sideways, how a single unexpected variable can unravel even the most foolproof plan. That left me with [36 Credits] tucked away for emergencies—my little safety net.

And with that business handled, I had time.

If the plot still ran its course like in the original story, I had at least two weeks before Riser Phenex would make his smug little entrance. That gave me time to seduce Rias—though calling it seduction might be underselling things. The girl was already cracking. With the way I kept showing up, being the dependable devil with just enough danger and mischief to stir her curiosity, it was only a matter of time. She’d break, and when she did, I’d be there, arms open, words sweetened with promises I fully intended to keep. I never lied, after all. Couldn’t. And that made a difference thanks to [Honest to the Bone]. 

Still, I could let that play out slowly. No need to rush. I had myself to focus on.

After buying [Added Potential: Shadow Clone Jutsu], and I’d been working it like a woman possessed. I could only make two clones for now—illusions, really. Simple enough to replicate with magic, but there was something satisfying in doing it the old-fashioned ninja way. Chakra felt different from mana. More primal. More personal. It responded to me in ways magic never quite did.

While grinding out the Jutsu, I’d picked up a few more Ninjutsu techniques along the way. They weren’t flashy or particularly devastating—certainly nothing like the raw destructive potential I could sling with a flick of my fingers using magic—but with enough Chakra pumped into them, they did the trick. There was always a chance they’d backfire, misfire, fizzle out and leave me standing there like an idiot, but it didn’t happen often enough to discourage me.

The day rolled on with quiet efficiency. My lovers were keeping busy, each in their own way.

Rei had taken to Ddraig with boundless enthusiasm, the same bright curiosity she applied to everything she touched. Her bubbly attitude somehow didn’t clash with Ddraig’s presence; instead, it softened the edges around the former Dragon. Rei, ever affectionate, was already calling her “Dragon-nee” with a giggle and affectionate hip checks.

Saya, naturally, tried to dissect Ddraig’s existence with that razor-sharp mind of hers. She’d cornered the redhead in the library, bombarding her with questions about draconic physiology, the psychological effects of long-term soul confinement, and metaphysical questions that made even Ddraig falter.

Saeko, as expected, had issued a silent challenge the moment Ddraig appeared. A sparring match in the garden was held before breakfast was even finished. It wasn’t hostile—nothing between us ever really was—but it was fierce. Passionate. Saeko reveled in the test of strength, the movement of bodies, the delicious tension of combat. Afterward, she kissed Ddraig’s bruised knuckles, bloodied her own lip on purpose, and offered her a towel like it was a ritual.

Kyoko and Rika, meanwhile, had taken it upon themselves to guide the Fallen Angel trio—now freshly minted succubi—into their new reality. There was laughter, teasing, and the occasional scream of orgasmic discovery echoing through the halls. Rika never missed a beat, offering dry commentary and mock lectures in her best 'schoolteacher' voice, while Kyoko radiated this fierce protective energy like a sun that had chosen violence.

Shizuka had done what Shizuka always did: smiled sweetly, said something adorably off-kilter, and then, when no one was looking, whispered some insight to Ddraig that left the dragon looking vaguely uncomfortable and more than a little respectful. Shizuka’s act fooled nearly everyone, but not us. Not anymore.

And Yuriko… Morgana, Yuriko. Elegant, commanding, maternal, and deadly. She swept into the scene like a queen entering her court and pulled Ddraig into a conversation that looked polite on the surface but dripped with veiled barbs and subtle threats. It was her way of making sure the dragon understood where she stood in our family—not beneath, never beneath, but within. That mattered.

As for Alice, she’d attached herself to Ddraig almost immediately. With wide eyes and endless questions, she followed the woman around like a duckling, never quite in the way, always watching. Ddraig didn’t seem to mind. In fact, by the end of the day, she was the one brushing Alice’s hair by the window, recounting old war stories in a quiet, reverent tone I hadn’t heard from her before.

I watched them all—my lovers, my daughter, my strange and growing family—and felt something warm settle in my chest. Something soft. Dangerous, in a way. This world wasn’t safe. It wasn’t stable. And I had brought all of them into it.

So I would be ready.

I didn’t need the [Defenses] now. But maybe someday I would. And when that day came, I’d be prepared. No one was taking my family away from me.

Especially not the bastards crawling all over this world and out.

But until then, I had seduction to finish, powers to hone, and a family to nurture. I had kisses to steal, moans to coax, secrets to share and keep. And I had one more clone to train before dinner.

{Serena's POV}

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Ajuka, arms folded as I stared at the massive arcane board pinned to the far wall of her lab. The entire thing was smothered with still frames of Lady Rebecca—training shots, profile angles, her walking, her talking, her laughing, her fucking breathing—and each one annotated with obsessive precision. One image even had a heart scribbled next to it with the words "Look at her smirk here, fuck me."

Subtle, Ajuka. Real subtle.

The whole lab practically reeked of unspent obsession. There were spectral projections of Rebecca's battles looping in silent intervals mid-air, streams of demonic calculations tracing her growth curve, and what I suspected was a simulation of what her child might look like—with Ajuka.

Seriously, the woman needs to get out more and have sex.

Then again, I can’t throw stones. Not when I’ve got my own very… vivid attachments. At least I have a wife who rails me hard enough to forget politics. Ajuka? She has graphs and fantasy baby simulators.

Still, it wasn't just scientific curiosity that lit up her eyes whenever Rebecca’s name came up. I’ve realized now that Ajuka isn’t just interested in Lady Rebecca’s data—she’s obsessed. I’d wager she dreams in Rebecca-shaped equations. And that tells me my suspicions about Rebecca were right: she’s not normal. There’s something hidden beneath that confidence and fire, something Ajuka’s barely holding herself back from devouring.

"Yes," Ajuka said, her tone way too composed considering the literal shrine behind her. "I have gathered conclusive evidence that Rebecca has the potential to become Ultimate-Class in, at most, ten years."

I blinked. "Ten?"

Ajuka nodded. "Barely a month has passed since her Demonic Power was evaluated at Mid-Class. As of this week, she has already reached High-Class."

I rubbed my chin, trying not to gape. That kind of growth is unheard of. Even among the Noble Pillars, it’s rare to see that kind of leap outside of extreme circumstances. Sure, pureblood devils from the main houses can sometimes reach High-Class within a few decades if pampered with the best tutors, potions, and inheritance rituals. But Rebecca?

She had none of that.

We Satans know that despite her "family", Rebecca wasn't granted proper training. No personal magic instructors, no mana-nurturing diets, no specialized heritage awakening ceremonies. Nothing but herself, her will, and a battlefield to hone her instincts.

And yet she climbed one full rank in a month.

"You ran your numbers twice?" I asked. Not because I doubted her math. Ajuka’s math was divine law, practically. But I wanted to see how hard she was sweating beneath that cool exterior.

"Seventeen times," she admitted, voice a touch breathier than before. "I even checked against Kankara's Formula. I’ve never seen potential like hers, not even in the aftermath of the Great War."

That made me pause.

During the War, I trained for over a century to reach Ultimate-Class. Ajuka used to call me an anomaly—born of pride, wrath, and a cocktail of natural gifts that devoured mentors and textbooks alike. But Rebecca, in her eyes, was something else entirely.

"Could this be because of the anomaly surrounding Lady Rebecca?" I asked, carefully. I already knew the answer, but I wanted to see if she’d finally voice it.

Ajuka hesitated, just for a second. Then she nodded. "I believe so, Serena. She is... different."

That was an understatement, but I appreciated her candor. It’s not often Ajuka admits that someone rattles her logic.

"And you're sure that Rias and Lady Rebecca have formed a relationship?" I shifted topics. This was, after all, the real reason we were even having this little data-worshipping session of hers.

I had come to her, lamenting the ongoing clusterfuck of my little sister’s engagement to Riser. We’d hit dead ends politically. Nothing short of a miracle would undo that contract without triggering a diplomatic catfight.

Then Ajuka had suggested something… unexpected.

"Rias should marry Lady Rebecca." she’d said casually, as if she wasn’t planning to get Rebecca’s name tattooed on her thigh in invisible ink.

Of course, I thought she was joking.

Until she whipped out surveillance data showing my sister and Rebecca getting... cozy.

"They have yet to become lovers," she said now, adjusting her glasses with a completely unnecessary flourish. "But it is inevitable. The chemistry is undeniable. It’s only a matter of time."

She spoke like a woman already halfway to planning the wedding. Probably wanted to officiate the ceremony and then push Rias aside mid-vows.

I studied her carefully. Despite her usual restraint, I could see it—the flicker of hunger in her expression whenever she spoke of Rebecca. It wasn’t just admiration. It was carnal. Unhinged. Devoted.

Obsessed.

Her fingers twitched at her side, like she was suppressing the urge to pull up another holographic loop of Rebecca’s smirk. She bit her lip—actually bit it—when Rebecca’s voice played faintly from one of the side crystals. The woman had it bad. Terminal.

"I had considered letting Rias marry someone else," I murmured, returning to my pacing. "She was always opposed to Riser, not marriage itself. And Father… well, he sees power unions, not people."

Ajuka’s gaze didn’t leave Rebecca’s hovering image. "Lady Rebecca’s potential could match that of a lost primordial bloodline. I would stake my own title on it."

I raised a brow. That was big talk. Even from her.

"Do you want her for yourself, Ajuka?" I asked, half-smirking.

The pause was telling. Then:

"...Yes," she whispered, the sound almost reverent. Her cheeks were flushed. "But I am not foolish. I know that has too much love for one person to keep. But if she looked at me just once, I would reshape the cosmos until it pleased her."

By Lucifer.

"You're really down bad."

"I want to study the cadence of her voice when she lies," she murmured. "Only... she doesn't. Not once. Not in anything I've observed."

I stiffened.

"What do you mean?"

Ajuka blinked, as if she hadn’t meant to say that aloud. "It’s nothing. A curiosity. Perhaps she’s just very good at omission. Or perhaps she simply prefers the truth."

Fascinating. Rebecca, always dancing between sharp wit and cryptic honesty. It wasn’t something you could fake. And if she couldn’t lie… well, that would be a game changer. But best not to tip that hand.

I tapped a finger to my lips, thinking.

Ajuka clearly saw Rebecca as something divine in infernal flesh. But the obsession served a purpose now—it gave me a weapon. A path.

"Well," I said slowly, the pieces locking into place, "it seems I’ll need to meet Lady Rebecca sooner than expected."

"Serena—" Ajuka almost stepped forward, then stopped herself. Her eyes gleamed. "May I be there when you do?"

I gave her a look. "What, so you can stare longingly at her calves the entire time?"

She didn’t deny it.

"...Fine. But you’re not allowed to drool."

Ajuka nodded solemnly, as if agreeing to a sacred vow.

I turned away from the wall of Rebecca portraits and walked toward the exit. My mind raced with new strategies—ways to exploit this growing connection between Rias and Rebecca, ways to maneuver around Father’s outdated political bullshit, ways to leverage Rebecca’s unknown potential into something real.

But above all, I wanted to see her.

The woman who rose without aid. The woman who didn’t lie. The woman who drove the most calculating Devil in the world to the brink of worship.

Rebecca.

I needed to know what kind of monster—or miracle—she truly was.

Chapter Text

{Rias's POV}

Rebecca was a wonder. A storm in the shape of a woman, and I had never met anyone—Devil, Angel, or otherwise—quite like her. There was something intoxicating about her presence, something that tore through the rigid structure of Devil nobility like a sledgehammer through glass. She was chaos incarnate, yet somehow more alive than anyone I'd ever known. Rebecca didn’t just walk into a room—she arrived, like a declaration. She shattered every expectation, every rule, every unspoken law that governed how Devils should behave.

She was brash, unapologetic, and feral in a way that should’ve made me recoil. And yet… it drew me in like gravity. There was no mask, no pretense. Just her—unfiltered, untamed. Where so many clung to their status and appearances, she moved with a kind of honesty that made even the truth itself feel inadequate.

And gods, the way she loved. Her harem was large, impossibly so, but not a single one of them was neglected. Every woman in her orbit glowed, touched by her light, her warmth, her fierce protection. I saw it in their eyes, in their laughter, in the quiet, shared moments. They adored her. And she adored them back just as deeply, if not more. There was something almost divine about how she loved—reckless, boundless, and unapologetically intense.

Was it any wonder that I was falling for her?

It started subtle. A glance held a second too long, her eyes dancing with mischief. Her tease that day—"Maybe I’ll court you next, princess"—had started out as a joke. But the echo of it stayed with me, growing louder every time I looked at her. It was no longer just admiration or curiosity. Lingering stares turned heated, feather-light touches on my shoulder or waist sparked fire across my skin. Even her casual words—flippant and often crass—sent tingles down my spine simply because they were hers.

I loved Rebecca. That truth settled into me like a sword through silk—sharp, but undeniable. Loving her felt inevitable, like the ocean loving the moon. And yet... I could never say it aloud.

Not while I was still shackled to this farce of an engagement.

Riser. That arrogant, preening, egotistical bastard. The bane of my existence, my unwanted future. He and Rebecca might’ve seemed similar at first glance—both loud, both proud, both surrounded by beautiful women. But any comparison dissolved the moment you actually looked.

Where Riser was arrogant, Rebecca was confident. Where Riser shouted to demand attention, Rebecca spoke loud because her voice deserved to be heard. Riser's Peerage was a collection of trophies—women who followed him because they had to. Rebecca’s lovers? They would burn the world down for her, and she’d salt the ashes for them.

And by the Satans, the way she protected them… I once saw her break a man’s nose for brushing too close to Kyoko at a bar. And when that same man tried to retaliate? Rebecca shattered his arm with one elegant motion and said, calm as you please, “Touch one hair, and I’ll carve a warning into your fuckin' bones.” It wasn’t just bravado. It was truth. She meant every word.

Still, even with all that, I couldn’t burden her. Not while I was still bound. My father had made it clear—my engagement to Riser wasn’t just a formality. It was politics. Legacy. Power. And in his eyes, I wasn’t a daughter—I was a contract to be fulfilled. A tool to be used.

But I had been trying. Gods, I had been trying. My Peerage and I, we worked ourselves raw this past week. Not for glory. Not for prestige. But for escape. Every move, every plan, every inch we clawed forward was for one reason: freedom. Because I had finally found something worth fighting for. Someone. Someone who made me want to tear the whole damn system apart and write something new.

Rebecca.

She made me want more.

But fate, ever cruel, didn’t care for my newfound resolve. Just as the first flickers of hope began to catch fire in me, Father sent the letter.

The marriage was being pushed forward. A week. A single week before I’d be locked into a cage I never asked for. I lost it. Shattered a mirror, screamed until my throat was raw. I had two more years. That was our agreement. But that man—no, that monster—had never seen me as his child. Not really. Just a pawn to place on the board.

I ran. Straight to Rebecca’s home. I didn’t even knock.

She opened the door before I could, as if she’d known I was coming. No questions, no judgment. Just open arms and a soft, “Come here, princess.”

And I did. I broke apart in her arms, crying into her shoulder while she whispered things into my ear—filthy, soft, sweet things. She never asked why. She didn’t need to. I think… I think she already knew.

But she never promised to save me. That wasn’t her way. Rebecca wasn’t a fairytale prince. She was fire. She was revolution. She was the storm that razed kingdoms.

And I loved her all the more for it.

When I woke in my own bed the next morning, it was like that night had never happened. No messages. No declarations. Just the crushing weight of inevitability. And then—

A miracle.

“There is a way,” my sister said, stepping into the room like she’d walked out of a dream. “To get out. Even if there is a catch.”

Hope bloomed in my chest so fast it hurt.

“You’ll have to find someone better. Better than Riser. And they have to issue a challenge for your hand.”

Just as quickly, that hope deflated.

Rebecca. She was the obvious answer, wasn’t she? But she’d only recently been named a King. Her Peerage, while formidable in spirit, had never participated in a Rating Game. And Riser… well, his wins were more spectacle than skill, but they still existed on record. I couldn’t ask that of her. I wouldn’t.

But my sister—persistent and stubborn like me—urged me. “Ask.”

So I did.

It wasn’t some grand moment. I hadn’t planned it. The words just tumbled out one evening while we sat on her rooftop, feet dangling over the edge, the stars too bright above us.

“I need your help.”

She looked at me sideways, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Anything for you, princess.”

And just like that… it was decided.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask what she’d gain. Didn’t hesitate to weigh the risks. Her response wasn’t just confident—it was truth. There was no room for doubt in her voice. No wavering. No question of failure. It was as if the outcome had already been decided, written in stone and blood and promise.

I think I fell for her all over again in that moment.

Rebecca wasn’t just someone I loved. She was the only one I wanted. The only one who made me feel seen, heard, and wanted for who I truly was.

Not Rias Gremory, daughter of a noble house.

Not Rias, heiress to political chains.

Just Rias. Just… me.

And when she stood before my father and declared her intent—with that wicked smirk and eyes like a rising sun—I felt my chains begin to crack.

“My dear,” she had said, voice low and dangerous, “I believe it’s high time I challenged the bastard who thought he could own what isn’t his.”

She didn’t promise to win. She didn’t even say she would try. But the way she said it? It didn’t matter. It was already done.

And me?

My heart was already hers.

{Serena's POV}

Our plan to meet with Lady Rebecca had to be pulled back—painfully, frustratingly pulled back—because Father, in all his insufferable thirst for legacy, just had to fuck everything up. He couldn’t wait, couldn’t sit still and let Rias live out her time in the human world before being bound by an arranged marriage that none of us wanted. No, he had to break the goddamn agreement.

The original deal had been clear: Rias would marry Riser once she finished her schooling. That gave us time. Time to maneuver. Time to make choices. But Father? That crusty old bastard grew impatient and declared that the wedding would be held in a week. A week. As if her life was some kind of timed auction.

I had wanted to finally meet Rebecca. To see with my own eyes what kind of woman had captured so many hearts—and most importantly, to gauge her worth myself. Ajuka wouldn’t shut up about her. The way she spoke of Rebecca bordered on obsession, and I knew damn well that anything Ajuka said about the woman had to be taken with at least a pound of salt. She wasn't exactly unbiased at this point. But all that was taken from me when Father's announcement dropped like a divine decree.

Still, with Rias staring down the barrel of a future she didn’t choose, I couldn’t just sit on my ass. I went to her estate, my heart already burning with fury, and found her curled up on the couch in a state I’d never seen before. Her pride, her fire, her sheer will—gone. Snuffed out. It was like looking at a cracked porcelain doll who’d finally decided she wasn’t worth fixing.

I wanted to kill him. Right then and there. Storm into the Gremory estate, slap his ancient ass through the floor, and be done with it. But centuries of having a level-headed wife had tempered me just enough to stop from doing anything completely irredeemable.

Instead, I sat with Rias and talked. I gave her an idea. A risky one, sure, but one that gave her a way out. I told her to invoke an old rite—challenge for her hand in marriage. Let Rebecca fight for her, prove she was better than a Phenex. I could tell Rias wanted to leap at the idea, but her heart hesitated. She didn’t want to put Rebecca in danger. Sweet idiot. But I urged her. No, I fucking pushed her.

So I followed her when she left. Trailing after her through teleportation sigils like a goddamn shadow. I didn’t want to be seen. I just wanted to watch. To witness.

We arrived at Rebecca’s residence—a strange, cobbled-together home that looked like someone had fused several aesthetics together with industrial glue and neon paint. The second the door opened and Rebecca saw us, she didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even blink.

She moved like lightning—straight to Rias, arms wrapping around her with such aching tenderness that it made something in my chest twist. There was heat and love and this quiet, desperate protectiveness in her touch, like Rias was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Ajuka had said they weren’t official. That Rebecca hadn’t pushed for more because of Rias’s engagement. But the moment I saw that hug, I knew it had never been about titles. They were in love. Real, messy, beautiful love. And Rebecca... fuck, Rebecca would burn kingdoms to keep Rias safe.

She pulled back just enough to tilt Rias’s chin up, whispering something that I couldn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, it made Rias tear up—and then Rebecca turned to me.

And then she turned to our father.

Because the old bastard had followed us. Most likely because he knew I would do something like this. 

He stood there, arms crossed and expression smug, as if daring someone to challenge him. Well, he got his wish.

Rebecca stepped up to him like he was a fly she meant to squash. Her smile was all sharp teeth and sarcasm.

"You know," she said, voice light but deadly, "I always figured ancient devils were supposed to have some wisdom tucked under those decades of beard stubble and arrogance. But you? You’re about as subtle as a bar fight in a whorehouse."

Father narrowed his eyes. "You dare—"

"Oh, I dare, motherfucker," she cut in, with all the elegance of a thrown brick. "You’ve got balls the size of raisins if you think you can railroad Rias into marriage without hearing a single fucking word from her."

The silence that followed was thick. Even I choked on it a little. Rebecca just kept going, striding closer like she was the damn queen of hell.

"You think you can pull this stunt, drag her future around like it’s some kind of goddamn leash, and not have someone stand in your way? What the hell kind of father are you, trying to sell off your daughter like a defective vibrator at a garage sale?"

I fucking snorted. I couldn’t help it. Neither could Rias, who let out this soft hiccup of laughter between tears.

Father, for once, was speechless. Rebecca had verbally drop-kicked him in front of witnesses, and he didn’t even know how to recover. Probably hadn’t been insulted that thoroughly since the War.

"Here’s what’s gonna happen," she said, voice cool and clear. "I challenge that chicken-winged fuckstick Riser for Rias’s hand. I win, she stays free. You lose, and you never breathe down her neck again. Got it?"

He started to protest, but I stepped forward, just a little.

"You’re not backing out of this, Father. Not now."

That sealed it.

He grumbled. He growled. But in the end, he nodded, and the challenge was accepted.

Rebecca didn’t wait for ceremony. She simply turned back to Rias, scooped her up like a precious relic, and held her against her chest like she was something irreplaceable.

That look on her face... she’d already won. No matter what happened next, she had already won. And as they disappeared back into her house, leaving me standing alone in the dusk, I knew—truly knew—that my sister was in good hands.

Still, I needed to talk to her. No way in all the levels of the underworld was I going to let her get away without a proper shovel talk. That’s what older sisters do, damn it.

But first? Tea. Delicious, gossip-laced tea with Serafall. She’d been dying for the details.

And gods help me, I had them.

{Rebecca's POV}

Well, I sure as hell didn’t expect shit to hit the fan this fast. I’d been biding my time, waiting for Asia Argento to show up just like she did in Canon, already laying out my plans and contingencies, trying to time my next moves with precision. But instead of the soft-spoken nun, what I got was Rias Gremory standing at my doorstep in the dead of night, tears streaking down her cheeks, her whole body trembling with something between rage and heartbreak.

One look at her and every single fucking alarm bell in my head went off.

Rias. Crying. My Rias.

And just like that, my instincts kicked in, the kind that didn’t give a single damn about decorum or politics. I wanted to hunt down the sorry bastard who made her cry and carve their heart out with my bare hands. But I didn’t act on that—not immediately. Because as soon as I laid eyes on her, the [Lilitu] in me read her desires like an open book.

Desperation. Freedom. The longing to choose who she loved.

And, yeah. She wanted me.

She collapsed into my arms without a word. I didn’t ask questions. Didn’t need to. My arms wrapped around her on instinct, cradling her, shielding her from whatever the fuck had hurt her. Her sobs shook her body, each one a jagged wound across my soul. I held her tighter, murmuring things low into her ear, things I didn’t even think about before saying—truths, always truths. I couldn't lie even if I wanted to, but it didn’t matter.

“I’ve got you now. You’re safe. I’m here.”

And Morgana, did she cling to me.

Time passed strangely with her like that. Her Queen, Akeno, arrived at some point, silent as a shadow. I felt her presence before she even knocked, and when I looked up, our eyes met. She nodded, giving me the unspoken permission to keep holding Rias, to keep being her rock. When Rias finally fell asleep, her breathing soft and steady against my chest, I lifted her gently and handed her off to Akeno. The woman bowed low in gratitude, eyes lingering on Rias with something like relief before she disappeared into the night.

But I didn’t sleep that night. Hell no.

The second they left, I turned my full attention to one single purpose: finding a fucking way out for Rias.

She was mine. And like fuck was I going to let her be pawned off to some pure-blood prick like Riser Phenex.

I already knew the usual path—challenge the bastard to a Rating Game and win Rias’s freedom through sheer dominance. But there was a catch. A big, shitty, tradition-bound catch.

To challenge someone for another’s hand in marriage, I needed the consent of the woman's father. And that was the real kicker. It was Rias’s father—the Lord of the fucking Gremory Clan himself—who was pushing this whole farce forward.

The bastard was practically gift-wrapping Rias to Riser.

But giving up? That just wasn’t me. Not then. Not ever.

So, I dug. I scoured everything I could about Devil traditions, marriage laws, Rating Game clauses—anything that could be twisted, exploited, or subverted. I thought through dozens of half-baked plans, hoping at least one would stick. I even considered storming into the Underworld myself and raising hell.

Then came the dawn.

Rias returned, eyes raw but steady, and she sat beside me, fingers twisting nervously in her lap. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft. Broken, but strong under it all.

“I want you to challenge Riser. I want to be free. I want to be yours.”

And fuck, did my heart ache hearing those words. I wanted to say yes immediately, but the weight of everything I’d learned slammed into me.

“It’s not that simple.” I started to say, already rehearsing how I’d break it to her that her own father had to consent to any challenge… but then I saw her.

Serena Lucifer.

That woman’s presence was like a goddamn winter storm—beautiful, chilling, absolute. She entered my home like it belonged to her, which, in a way, it did. She was one of the Four Satans. And, surprisingly, a woman. That bit still threw me every now and then—both her and Ajuka being women instead of men like in Canon—but honestly, it didn’t matter anymore. This Serena wasn’t just some genderbent version of a character. She was a force.

And apparently, she was on our side.

She gave Rias a look—fond, sisterly, protective—and then turned that unreadable gaze on me. I held it without flinching. She nodded once.

“It can be done. If you're willing to do what’s necessary.”

No hesitation. “I am.”

What followed was... intense. I won’t detail the showdown with Rias’s father—some things are best left unsaid. But know this: I didn’t fight him with fists or spells. I didn’t need to. I had my words. My will. My truth. And [Alluring Whisper: Siren’s Song].

He gave in. They always do.

Rias came back to me after that. Not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually. She looked at me like I was her fucking sun, like I had torn the sky apart just to show her the stars. And in return, I looked at her like she was the most precious thing I’d ever held.

Because she was.

I brought her into my home that night. Just the two of us. The air between us buzzed with unspoken things, heavy and warm. There was no need for grand declarations. No fiery speeches. Just the soft click of the door closing behind us, the quiet steps we took toward the couch, the way she curled into my side like she belonged there—and gods, she did.

“I meant it,” I said, brushing her crimson hair from her eyes. “You’re mine. And I’ll save you, no matter what.”

Her lips quivered. “You already have.”

There was silence, then. Not awkward. Not tense. Just full of meaning. She leaned in slowly, waiting for any sign of hesitation, but there wasn’t any. Our lips met, and the kiss was soft, deliberate, like we were memorizing each other. Her hands found their way to my hips, pulling me closer, anchoring herself to me.

We didn’t rush. We didn’t need to. Every caress, every whispered promise, every soft moan was a testament to the bond we were forging, one kiss at a time.

I could feel her heart, and she could feel mine.

Hours passed, and still, we lay there, tangled together. Her head rested on my chest, her fingers tracing patterns over my stomach.

“Do you think it’ll work?” she whispered. “The challenge?”

“It’ll work,” I murmured back. “Because I don’t lose.”

She laughed quietly, the sound like honey and lightning.

“Cocky.” she teased.

“Truthful.” I corrected, lips brushing her temple.

And it was. I wasn’t trying to bluff or inflate myself. I couldn’t lie. Every word I said carried weight. And when I told her I would win—when I promised her that I would fight Riser and take back her freedom—I meant every damn syllable.

In the morning, when she dressed and prepared to return to her peerage, her eyes lingered on me with something deep. Something fierce. Love bloomed there, raw and beautiful, and I knew then that this wasn’t some passing infatuation.

This was ours.

I walked her to the door, our fingers still laced together until the last possible second.

“You’re not alone anymore.” I told her.

“I know.” she whispered, and then she was gone.

But she’d be back.

Because Rias Gremory was mine.

And I would move heaven and hell to keep it that way.

Chapter Text

{Kalawarner's POV}

Working under Lady Rebecca wasn't nearly as terrible as I'd first imagined. When she defeated us—me, Mittelt, and Raynare—we had expected chains, collar spells, humiliation. What we got instead was... her. Rebecca. A storm in flesh, wild and powerful and chaotic in a way that wasn’t cruel, just... honest. She didn’t need to threaten us for obedience. Sure, she said we’d serve her now, that much was non-negotiable. But there was no collar, no blade at our throats. Instead, she treated us with a strange and baffling kindness. She called it practicality at first, claimed we were still useful and that she had no reason to waste resources. But her eyes betrayed more.

They always did.

At first, it was confusing. Rebecca wasn’t like any master I’d ever known—or feared. She didn’t bark orders without purpose or use pain as motivation. She didn’t fuck us against our will or degrade us to prove a point. In fact, she never touched us without consent, never laid a hand on us unless we asked. And when we did... fuck, when we did—

Even then, she was careful.

Mittelt, ever suspicious and jumpy, was the first to soften around her. She liked watching how Rebecca would brush Alice’s hair back from her face, fingers gentle despite the power humming in her body. Then Raynare followed, and I think that hurt her more than she’d admit. Because Raynare was prideful, cold, bitter about falling, bitter about how Father abandoned us. But it was that same bitterness that melted when Rebecca saw her—not just as an asset, or a fallen, or a pretty thing with wings—but as someone.

And me? I tried to resist. I really did. I told myself it was all manipulation. That the warmth in her voice was an act, that the way she stared too long wasn’t desire, but calculation. But she never lied to us. Not once. Not even to comfort.

She’d say things like, “I won’t protect you from the consequences, but I will stand with you through them.” Or, “I want you, yes, but only if you want me too.”

She’d say things that cut through me—not because they were cruel, but because they were true.

And Alice... oh, sweet little Alice. That child is a miracle. She glowed. Being near her made even my jaded, scarred soul feel... light. Like I could be more. Better. We were assigned to protect her, care for her. That was our official duty. But we loved her. Genuinely. Not out of obligation or survival. She would giggle when Mittelt braided her hair, or cling to Raynare’s leg when she was scared, or sleep with her head in my lap. She called me “Aunt Kala,” and it made something bloom in my chest I didn’t have a name for.

Even now, I’d die for her. No hesitation. That love was real.

But then came the change. The Succubus transformation. One minute we were Fallen. The next, we felt something in us burn away, severed completely. Father’s love—distant though it had become—was gone. We were different. Reborn. And it hurt. Fuck, it hurt.

But she was there.

Rebecca held us when we cried. Fed us when we couldn’t stand. Slept beside us, not for sex, but for comfort. Her arms were strong, but never restraining. Her voice was soothing, but never condescending. She kissed our foreheads. She whispered promises—never empty ones, always with weight behind them.

“We’ll carve a new truth together,” she told me. “And no one—not God, not Devil, not Dragon—gets to unmake that.”

It should’ve been terrifying. But it wasn’t.

It was home.

And amidst it all, the tension built. It crept in between lingering glances, in touches that lasted a second too long, in words unsaid but heavy with want. We weren’t blind. We saw the way Rebecca looked at us. The hunger was there. Not just sexual, though gods know that simmered under the surface. But deeper. She wanted us. All of us. Our loyalty, our presence, our hearts.

And we wanted her back.

Mittelt would pretend she wasn’t interested, but I’d catch her staring whenever Rebecca sparred. The way her hips twisted, the flex of her arms, the grin she’d wear just before a fight. Raynare tried to keep her distance, but when Rebecca smiled at her—really smiled—her wings would twitch involuntarily. And me? I was the worst. I craved her touch. Her approval. Her goddamn voice. That rough, whiskey-slick tone she used when praising us? I’d dream about it.

Sometimes, I wondered if she knew. If she noticed how we’d lean closer whenever she sat between us. How our hands would "accidentally" brush hers. How we’d linger too long in the bathhouse, hoping she’d join.

She never pushed. Never crossed the line.

But she let us cross it when we were ready.

The first night it happened, it was after a long day of training. Alice had fallen asleep curled up between us, and Rebecca looked so soft, so impossibly tender as she kissed the girl’s forehead. When she turned her gaze to me, to us, it wasn’t lust I saw.

It was love.

I kissed her first.

I don’t remember moving, just the warmth of her lips, the way she sighed against me like she’d been holding back forever. Mittelt was next. Then Raynare. We didn’t fuck—not that night. We touched, yes. Explored. Whispered. There was heat, certainly. But it was all slow. Gentle. Worshipful. We didn’t just want Rebecca. We chose her. Not out of fear. Not out of obligation. But because she’d become the axis our world turned around.

And she accepted us. Claimed us. Made us hers in a way no one else ever had.

Now, as she prepares for the Rating Game against Riser Phenex, we remain behind. Not because we’re weak. We’ve grown. We've learned how our abilities as Succubi worked, we trained, and now, we were stronger than ever. 

But our duty lies elsewhere. Asia Argento. That gentle nun with healing hands and a heart too big for this world. She’s under our protection now. Rebecca tasked us with her safety, and we will not fail. Not after everything she’s given us. Not after everything we’ve become.

Some might say we were conquered. That we serve a new mistress now. But that’s not how I see it.

We weren’t broken. We were invited. Welcomed. Loved. And in that love, we found purpose.

I look at Mittelt now—smiling as she helps Alice brush her teeth. I see Raynare reading a picture book aloud, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. I feel my own heart swell as Alice tugs on my sleeve and calls me over for cuddles.

And in the distance, I hear Rebecca’s laugh. Wild and chaotic and ours.

No, working under Lady Rebecca isn’t bad at all.

It’s the best decision I’ve ever made.

And when she returns—bloodied, victorious—I plan to show her just how much I’ve come to need her.

No more holding back. Not anymore.

{Venelena's POV}

I've hardly ever seen my husband look so utterly defeated since the Great War ended. He’s always been composed, calculated, smugly sure of himself like a man who believes the whole world dances to his tune. But not that night. When he came home, the sharp click of his shoes echoing against the marble like thunder, I could already tell something had gone awry. His shoulders were tense, a frown deep and furrowed into his brow, and his eyes held that glint of simmering rage that only ever appeared when someone had dared bruise his pride.

So, I did what I always did. I played the good little wife, the role he loved me in. I greeted him with a soft smile, a gentle brush of lips against his cheek, and an offer to draw his bath. He declined, naturally. Too riled up to relax. So I cooked. The way he liked it—medium-rare steak, garlic-butter potatoes, wine that smelled more expensive than it tasted. All the while, I pried, gentle and coaxing, using warmth and patience to peel back the layers of his stubborn pride until he told me what happened.

Apparently, he’d made the decision to push Rias and Riser’s engagement forward, earlier than anyone had anticipated. He expected backlash, of course—our daughters are nothing if not spirited—but he had been confident Serena wouldn’t take it too far. She, after all, was bound by the politics of the underworld, and raising a fuss might’ve caused a diplomatic incident. And Rias, sweet Rias, he thought she’d simply fold like she always did when faced with his authority.

But then she didn’t.

He had followed Serena to the Human World after one of his little rats whispered that she'd made the trip. Curious, more than suspicious. But what he found shattered his assumptions into dust.

Rias had been in the arms of a woman.

Not just anyone—a woman.

Serena stood to the side, like a sentinel or perhaps a witness, while Rias held onto this mysterious figure as if she were her anchor in a storm. And just as my husband prepared to lay into Rias with the full weight of his disappointment, this woman turned to him and, in his words, "cussed him out like his father used to." Not just insulted him—laid him bare.

That shook him. He won’t admit it aloud, but I know. The man flinches at even the memory of his father’s tongue. Something in that moment must’ve cracked his foundation, because in his daze, he agreed to something unthinkable. He accepted a challenge. This stranger, this audacious woman, had challenged Riser for Rias's hand in marriage. And before he could take it back, Serena—clever, beautiful Serena—simply stood there. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her presence was enough to bind the words into law.

By the time he realized the mistake, it was done.

And now, he was at the Phenex manor, scrambling to mend the alliance that had just begun to unravel. A marriage was a political tool, not a romantic gesture. And Rias's rebellion was a wrench thrown straight into the gears of everything he’d planned.

But me? I was glad.

I never wanted that engagement to happen. I never approved of Riser. Too arrogant. Too loud. Too much like my husband. Rias deserves better than to be tethered to someone who’d treat her like a possession. She deserves fire. Passion. Someone who sees her. Loves her.

And if this mysterious woman—this Lady Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas—is willing to go toe-to-toe with the Gremory patriarch himself, then maybe, just maybe, she’s the one who can give that to my daughter.

The next morning, I called Serena, naturally. She answered in the middle of training, breathless but unbothered, and the moment I asked, she spilled.

And oh, what a story.

Lady Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas. Sister of a Satan. Mysterious, powerful, and with a reputation filled with unknown. I’d heard of her, of course—who hadn’t? Her name came up in rumors and veiled threats for simply being the sister of a Satan. But hearing Serena talk about her… that was something else.

Her voice lit up when she spoke of Rebecca. There was warmth, admiration, a blush so obvious I could practically see it through the phone, about how Rias felt for Lady Rebecca. She loved her. That wasn’t speculation—that was a mother’s knowing. Every word out of Serena’s mouth had painted affection clear in Rias and Lady Rebecca's silhouette, each breath laced with awe.

Then, my other daughter. 

I called her later, pretending it was just a motherly check-in. But even Rias, usually so guarded, so careful with her heart, couldn’t hide it. She spoke of Lady Rebecca in tones that made my chest tighten. There was… longing. Devotion. Desire.

And yet, what fascinated me more was the tension beneath it all. Rias spoke of her not as someone she possessed, but someone she ached for. Someone who stirred things in her that she couldn’t yet name. The kind of magnetic, dangerous affection that turns lives upside down.

And I understood.

I may be older, more experienced, but I remember what it felt like to want someone with that raw intensity. To feel your soul lean toward theirs even before your body does. To crave their touch, their voice, their truth.

But still—I couldn’t just rely on my daughters' words. As much as I love them, one was biased and one was hopelessly smitten. I needed more than blushing admiration and whispered desires. I needed to see this woman. To judge her with my own eyes.

Luckily, I would get the chance.

A formal meeting would have to be arranged. The challenge had been issued—there were procedures to follow. Negotiations. Logistics. What would be won, what would be lost, the rules, the time, the place.

When that time comes, I’ll be there.

And when I see Lady Rebecca with my own eyes, I’ll know. I’ll look past the strength and mystery, beyond the reputation and the Satanic bloodline. I’ll search for the truth in her words, the sincerity in her eyes.

Because I won’t let Rias be tricked like I was. I won’t let her fall for someone who hides behind power and politics. If this Lady Rebecca is anything like my husband—manipulative, cold, deceitful—I will do everything in my power to protect my daughter.

But if she’s real…

If the fire I hear in Serena’s voice and the ache I detect in Rias’s tone is justified…

Then I’ll welcome her with open arms.

Until then, all I can do is wait.

And wonder about the woman bold enough to stare down my husband and call him on his bullshit. The woman who made my daughter fall for her. The woman who never once faltered when the full weight of the Gremory legacy bore down on her.

Lady Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas.

Who are you really?

And more importantly…

What the hell are you planning?

{Rebecca's POV}

"Is everyone ready?" Shizuka asked, her voice light and playful, but the flag in her hand held high signaled anything but a joke. It fluttered in the wind like a war banner.

I stood across from her, eyeing my opponents—Rei and Saya, my beloved partners in more ways than one. The three of us exchanged a glance, a silent conversation packed with anticipation, challenge, and affection. Then we nodded, nearly in unison. Shizuka's smile widened.

"Well then," she said with a melodious lilt, dropping the flag. "Fight~!"

The moment the cloth hit the ground, Rei surged forward with surprising speed, spear in hand. It wasn’t [Rhongomyniad]—even I would’ve considered that overkill—but an ordinary spear that had been enchanted for durability and balance. Still, Rei lacked the full strength needed to call upon Rhongomyniad’s true blessings, and besides, this was just a spar. Using a divine construct would’ve been a dick move.

Then, as expected, five more Reis flickered into existence. Illusions—Saya’s handiwork. She was already at the backline, surrounded by glowing glyphs that multiplied with every passing second, each one a potential spell waiting to be unleashed.

I didn’t waste time. The instant the clones rushed forward, I activated the [Body Flicker Technique], vanishing from sight in a blink, reappearing directly in front of the Rei I thought was real. My pistols were already out, barking twice. The bullets passed through her harmlessly, making me click my tongue.

"Figures." I muttered. One pistol raised just in time to block the thrust of the real Rei's spear. She came in low, fast, and with precision that could only be described as practiced fury.

My other pistol swung toward her side, finger tightening on the trigger, but the Rei I aimed at suddenly burst into smoke and pebbles—Substitution Jutsu. A rock took the bullet.

"Fucking textbook." I said, half proud, half annoyed. I loved Ninjutsu, especially those annoying little tricks like Body Replacement and Substitution. They were bullshit—beautiful, tactical bullshit.

No need to turn around. If Rei had pulled that move, she was definitely behind me. But instead of wasting time with a parry or dodge, I bolted forward—toward Saya—while I unleashed a barrage of water spears behind me.

A second later, a surprised shriek echoed through the air. Bullseye.

Not enough to take Rei out of the fight, but enough to give me some breathing room. I advanced toward Saya, who kept chanting, her expression focused yet venomous. That glare she gave me had heat, even if she knew I was coming.

She didn’t move. Not even a flinch.

That made me wary.

As I closed in, I didn’t just sprint like a fool—I fired relentlessly. Each bullet cracked a barrier, each impact destabilizing her defense layer by layer. But Saya didn’t stop. Her mouth moved faster, glyphs burned brighter. She was baiting me.

I got close. Close enough to kiss her, or shoot her, depending on how romantic I was feeling that second.

"Sorry, babe—"

Then her body shimmered.

"—You’ve got to be kidding me." I spat, pulling up short as the illusion faded away.

The glyphs she'd been fueling with chants all suddenly flared to life.

"Shit." That was all I had time to say.

I didn’t hesitate. Ice encased my entire body in an instant, sealing me in a protective cocoon just as the magical glyphs exploded in a glorious, fiery crescendo. I could feel the shockwaves even through the ice. Every time one explosion managed to break through, I had to reform the outer shell.

Relentless.

And then I heard footsteps. Fast. From behind.

I shattered my own ice with a sudden outward pulse, fingers already cycling through hand seals. Body Flicker Technique again.

I reappeared a few meters to the left. Just in time to see the ice I had vacated burst apart as Rei tore through it, spear first.

"Persistent little thing." I muttered, turning to face her fully.

My guns clicked empty. Useless.

No time to reload.

I infused chakra into my fingers and formed bullets of water with a twist of my wrist, pulling from the moisture in the air. They hovered for a second, gleaming in the light, then rocketed toward Rei.

Barriers flared up. Not Rei’s magic—Saya’s. She was somewhere to the side, providing defense. Or maybe it was another illusion. I wasn’t sure yet.

"Of course," I said, more to myself than anyone. "One’s a buffed tank, the other’s a mobile artillery unit with illusion fuckery. What a wonderful team I raised."

Couldn’t level the entire battlefield, not in a spar. The Iceberg was off-limits.

But I still had something left.

Chakra flared in my hand, red and wild, twisting into the shape of a dragon’s head. A refined technique. Once based on Hinata’s Gentle Fist, but now wholly mine. Wild, aggressive, devastating.

I charged.

Byakugan activated, and the world became lines and pulses. Saya’s casting patterns were suddenly laid bare, her barriers clearer to track. I shifted my attention with precision. Rei blocked with her spear, moved with practiced grace, and Saya supported with pinpoint shields and enhancements.

But now I could read them.

And once I could read Saya, I could pressure Rei.

Every strike with my draconic fist disrupted her stance. Her spear work was solid, but not enough to counter a technique she couldn’t fully see. She began losing ground, her breathing harder, her strikes more desperate.

Eventually, there was an opening. Just the briefest one.

I pulled back my chakra-coated fist—and let it dissipate.

Instead, I slammed my normal fist into Rei’s chest, hard enough to knock her airborne and send her skipping across the dirt. She’d live—Regeneration was one of her gifts—but she wouldn’t be getting up quickly.

"Sorry, sweetheart." I muttered, then turned toward my real target.

Saya.

My grin widened. She was clever, slippery, and overconfident in her illusions.

I conjured more water bullets, this time letting them fly in random arcs, deliberately chaotic. They zipped in every direction—except at her.

Sure enough, one bullet slammed into a hidden barrier, and I saw a ripple shimmer in the air.

"Found you."

I began moving, repeating the pattern, forcing her to react. Each volley of water bullets narrowed her hiding space. I was like a predator flushing prey.

Barriers broke. Illusions failed. And eventually, Saya stood exposed, eyes wide, arms raised.

"I give up!"

My strike froze, hand inches from her shoulder.

We stood like that for a beat. Then I smiled, dropping my hand and offering it to her instead.

She took it, and I pulled her up, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips.

"You’re getting better," I said. "Scarily so."

She huffed a breathless laugh, brushing dust from her robes. "I have a good teacher."

I turned away, glancing at my arms. Burns, cuts, bruises. Nothing fatal, but I’d need healing. Still, the sight made me grin.

"Yeah," I said, stretching. "I definitely taught you both too well."

But honestly?

That was exactly how I liked it.

Chapter Text

{Akeno's POV}

As I watched Rebecca gently pamper my King, brushing a stray strand of crimson hair behind Rias’s ear and murmuring something that made her blush like a maiden in love, I couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time coming—this moment of open affection between them—and if anyone could appreciate the weight of it, it was me. The tension had been growing between them for weeks now, simmering just below the surface, visible in the lingering glances, the slightly too-long touches, the way Rebecca would grin at Rias like she was a challenge she wanted to savor. And Rias, oh my King, how she would shiver with delight under her gaze, barely holding herself back.

In the past, Rias couldn’t indulge. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—no, she very much did—but because of that goddamn farce of an engagement to Riser. The expectations of a pure-blooded heiress were ironclad. And Riser, with his arrogant smirk and fragile pride, had made it clear that he’d brook no disrespect. Flirting with another woman, let alone being in a relationship, would’ve been a breach of those suffocating, outdated terms. But Rebecca… Rebecca tore that all down with a smile and a challenge. She looked Riser in the eye and declared her intent to take Rias for herself. Just like that.

The fight hadn’t even happened yet. The day of the Rating Game still loomed on the horizon, but already, everything was different. The rules were bending. Rias had decided that she didn’t need to wait. That if someone was willing to fight for her—willing to risk it all to claim her—then she’d at least allow herself this. This taste of freedom. This touch of love.

Watching her kiss Rebecca so tenderly, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the other woman’s face, was like witnessing the breaking of chains. And the way Rebecca looked at her… Satans, I’d never seen anyone look at Rias like that. Like she was the sun. Like she was hope itself. And I’d seen Rebecca look at many beautiful things. We all had. It didn’t matter that she was surrounded by goddesses, literal and otherwise, because I was sure some of them held divinity. In that moment, Rias was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and it made my chest ache with something that was half joy, half longing.

You see, I’ve always known I’d follow Rias anywhere. Since we were little girls, we’d made a promise—that we’d marry the same person, that we’d share our future, side by side. I meant it then. I still mean it now. Back then, I assumed it would be someone boring and noble, someone worthy of a Gremory and a Himejima by bloodlines alone. I had even steeled myself to accept Riser, to follow my King into that pit of obligation if it meant staying beside her. But then Rebecca exploded into our world like a storm wrapped in skin. And suddenly, everything changed.

Rebecca wasn’t noble in the traditional sense. But she had power. Not just the kind you measure with numbers and destruction, though she had plenty of that too. No, hers was a different kind of power—the kind that drew people in, made them ache to belong to her. She didn’t beg for loyalty. She didn’t need to. She earned it, commandingly, with a smirk, a promise, and the kind of presence that made you forget how to breathe.

Through her harem—her polycule, as she called it—I got to see who she truly was. Not just fierce. Not just dominant. She was protective, too. Loving. Deeply, dangerously loving. She loved like she fought—with everything she had, and no hesitation.

I remember this one time—a man tried to make a move on Yuriko-san. It was subtle, but he touched her wrist when she’d already stepped away. I saw Rebecca before he did. Her voice dropped low, nearly a whisper, as she threatened to tear his balls off and wear them as earrings. And the thing is—she meant it. Every word. There wasn’t an ounce of jest in her voice, just the cool steel of promised violence. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.

That moment alone told me everything I needed to know. With Rebecca’s love, Rias would be safe. Protected. Cherished. Every part of her would be tended to—heart, mind, body, soul. And selfishly, I wanted that, too. I wasn’t just following Rias anymore. I was drawn to Rebecca on my own terms. She ticked every box I had and then some. Fierce. Dominant. Strong. The kind of partner who would push me against a wall one moment and cradle me the next. The kind who could command the battlefield and our hearts with equal ease.

So for now, I was content. Content to watch her love my King, to see them entangle themselves in this dance of blooming desire. It wasn’t like she ignored me, either. Rebecca had a way of looking at me that set my skin ablaze. Her compliments, casually delivered, still made me shiver. Her smirks, her teases… They felt like promises. And yet, she hadn’t made a move. Not truly. Because she couldn’t. Not until Riser was dealt with. Not until she earned us both.

But damn it, I was ready.

I wasn’t the only one, either. Rei, always so bubbly and eager, would practically melt whenever Rebecca touched her. Saya, prideful and brilliant, often tried to tease Rebecca, only to be effortlessly outwitted and left breathless. Saeko, elegant and composed, saw Rebecca a sparring partner who thrilled her, who respected her strength and delighted in her skill. Kyoko, fierce and loyal, idolized her. Rika, ever the observer, was sharp-tongued and flirtatious with her in ways that made even me blush. Shizuka, deceptively ditzy, often curled against Rebecca like she belonged there—and perhaps, she did. And Yuriko… Yuriko was something else. Motherly, lethal, grounding. She shared a bond with Rebecca that was almost spiritual.

Alice, our little treasure, was the only one not entangled in Rebecca’s polycule, but even she adored her fiercely. Rebecca treated her like she mattered—never just as someone’s daughter, but as her own person. That mattered. That said something about her.

And Rebecca? She handled us all with terrifying ease. She made it seem effortless, loving all of us in our own ways. Fierce for Kyoko. Gentle for Shizuka. Challenging for Saya. Tender for Rei. Respectful for Yuriko. Passionate for Saeko. Playful for Rika. And patient—so damn patient—with me.

Every word she said to me was laced with truth, wrapped in mischief. She never lied. Couldn’t lie. Not that anyone realized that. But I could feel it. There was a quality to her words, a strange cadence, a glittering honesty that danced along the edge of poetry. She’d tease me with double meanings, but her sincerity was always there, like a current beneath the surface. When she called me beautiful, when she told me she couldn’t wait to claim me after the battle, when she whispered that she looked forward to unwrapping me like a gift… I knew she meant it. Every single word.

And it made waiting all the harder.

Still, I waited. I watched. I dreamed.

Rebecca kissed Rias again—this time with fire, not just affection—and I felt my breath hitch. The kiss was full of promise, full of hunger. Rias melted into it, her hands grasping at Rebecca’s coat like she never wanted to let go. I bit my lip. Gods, I wanted that, too. To be kissed like that. To be wanted like that.

One day. After the fight. After she won.

I would give myself to her willingly. Gladly. I wasn’t a prize to be won, but damn it, I wanted to be chosen. And I was ready to be hers.

Until then, I’d stay here. At Rias’s side. Watch over her. Protect her. Love her. And wait for my turn.

Wait for my turn.

{Asia's POV}

When I was excommunicated from the Church, I didn’t stop believing. Not even for a second. My Faith in God remained unshaken, a pillar of light amidst the crumbling foundation of the life I once knew. I held it close to my chest, even as the robes were stripped from my shoulders and the doors I had called home were shut behind me. To be cast out didn’t mean I had strayed. No, this was merely a trial—a crucible I was meant to walk through, barefoot and bleeding, because it was His plan. And if it was His plan, then it had meaning. There is always meaning, even if it is hidden.

I did not question Him. Not truly. But even with all the Faith in the world, I am still human. I can be confused. I can wonder. I can feel lost, even as I cling to the path I believe He laid before me.

The ones who took me in after my excommunication were not who anyone would expect. They were Fallen Angels, and not just any, but a group rooted in the faraway land of Japan. When they approached me, their words were not cruel or mocking. They said they needed my help. No demands. No threats. Just a simple statement. I looked into their eyes and saw no malice, no deception that I could perceive. So I followed. I packed what little I had left and journeyed to Japan, believing—because what else could I do?—that this, too, was part of His Will.

And yet, now that I am here, I find myself in a strange sort of limbo. The plan, they said, had changed. Apparently, once I arrived, new directives came down from their leader, a figure I have yet to meet. They told me to wait until she was done with more pressing matters. So I waited. And I waited. And I still wait.

They didn’t answer my questions. Not directly. Why was I here? What did they need from me? What was I supposed to do? I asked, and they would smile, maybe nod, but no answer ever came. Instead, they made me comfortable. They gave me a room in a large, opulent mansion that belonged to their mysterious leader. The rooms were quiet, but never cold. The halls were unfamiliar, but they did not feel hostile.

So I lived. I existed. I kept praying. I held onto my Faith.

In this strange new chapter of my life, I found companionship in unexpected places. The mansion was not empty. It was filled with others, all of them kind in their own ways. There was Miss Shizuka, a nurse with a bright laugh and soft eyes. I watched her work once, tending to a minor injury with steady hands and practiced grace. I had marveled at how human medicine functioned without miracles, without blessings. It felt almost marvelous to think that ordinary tools and knowledge could mimic what I could do with a simple prayer and my Twilight Healing. But it also filled me with awe.

Miss Shizuka didn't treat me like a freak. She asked questions, of course, but she did it with wonder, not suspicion. She was ditzy, I suppose, in her own way—forgetful, a little clumsy, a little too fond of wine—but she was kind. And sometimes kindness is the greatest miracle of all.

Then there was Miss Rei. She was bubbly, energetic, and always seemed to be talking about something. She had a sort of lightness to her, even though her eyes sometimes showed more depth than she let on. She made an effort to include me in conversations, invited me to share meals, even taught me how to use the mansion's elaborate coffee machine. We became friends, I think. Or as close as one can get when you always feel like you’re walking on the edge of someone else's story.

But most of my days were spent with little Alice. A curious, precocious child, and apparently the daughter of the leader I had yet to meet. She had these bright eyes, always full of questions, and a sense of purpose in every step she took. She would tug on my sleeve and ask me to play, or read, or explain how Twilight Healing worked. I did my best to answer, though there were always truths I could not share.

I couldn’t tell her about God. I couldn’t speak of my Faith the way I wanted to. Not just because of my excommunication, but because of where I now lived. Because of what everyone here was.

They were Devils. Reincarnated Devils, nearly all of them. I hadn’t known at first. No one made a point to announce it, and I suppose I should have been more suspicious. But the truth revealed itself gradually, in casual conversation, in the glimpses of wings and magic circles, in the quiet acknowledgments that this mansion was not part of the world I had once known.

I was terrified. I won’t pretend otherwise. The first time I saw those black wings, I nearly fainted. I thought of every warning I had ever been given, every sermon, every exorcism. Devils were meant to be evil, were they not? Yet, they smiled. They laughed. They cared. They made food, and told jokes, and treated me like I was just another guest. No one tried to hurt me. No one even said an unkind word.

And so, I reminded myself of that day back at the church. The day when a Devil had come to our doors, and I had healed them. I had looked into their eyes and seen desperation, not malice. I had reached out, not because they were good or evil, but because they were in pain. That was what I was called to do, wasn’t it?

Little Alice was a Devil too, and if she was evil, then the word had no meaning. She was innocent, inquisitive, and deeply kind. She asked me once if I believed in angels. I smiled and said, "I have met many who walk like humans, but carry heaven in their hearts."

No one here knows that I am incapable of deceit. It’s not something I can share. But it makes conversations delicate, makes my words bend and twist like river currents, always true, yet never wholly clear.

Time moves strangely here. Some days pass like fleeting whispers; others drag like sermons under the summer sun. The mansion exists in its own rhythm, dictated by the needs and moods of its residents. I have not met the leader yet. I don’t even know her name, only that she is away, tending to important matters. Everyone speaks of her with reverence, even affection. They say she is strong, terrifying when angered, but fair and protective. I wonder what kind of person she is. I wonder why she wanted me here in the first place.

I wonder if she even remembers that I’m still waiting.

Sometimes I dream of her—this woman I’ve never seen. I imagine her tall and commanding, with eyes like fire and a voice that could silence storms. Sometimes I imagine the opposite: small and fierce, like a blade hidden in silk. I imagine our conversation, how I would ask her why she summoned me and what she expects me to do. I wonder if she would laugh, or sigh, or simply hand me another puzzle piece in this strange divine plan.

I still believe this is His Will. It has to be. The path is too strange to be anything else.

But it’s lonely sometimes. Even surrounded by kind strangers, even with Alice curled beside me during storytime, even with Rei dragging me into the kitchen to try her latest experiment in baking—it’s still lonely.

Because I don’t know what I am meant to be.

Am I still a healer? Am I still a believer? Am I still His, even if His Church no longer claims me?

I pray for answers, but I no longer expect them to come in the form I recognize. Maybe they will come from the leader of this strange household. Maybe from Alice. Maybe from something yet unseen.

But I will wait.

Because waiting is also an act of Faith.

{Venelena's POV}

Today was the day of the meeting, and tension buzzed like static in the air. I stood alongside my husband, the ever-composed Lord Gremory, flanked by the noble Lord and Lady Phenex, their son Riser, their daughter Ravel, and the ever-efficient Grayfia. We were gathered in silence, awaiting the signal from Lady Glaysa-Labolas to teleport to her estate.

Riser shifted irritably at my side, clearly unimpressed with the proceedings. "Tch. Still can't believe I have to go through this shi.," he muttered, not even attempting to lower his voice. For someone of noble blood, his lack of decorum was grating.

I restrained a glare. Barely.

"Just think of it as an exchange for skipping two more years, my son." Lord Rupal Phenex murmured in an attempt to soothe his son, though the embarrassment on his face betrayed him.

Grayfia's voice cut clean through the brewing tension. "Lady Rias has messaged me. We are cleared to teleport to Lady Glaysa-Labolas' manor."

I turned to glance at Riser once more, catching the sneer forming on his face. That one was going to be a problem today, I could already feel it.

With a practiced gesture from Grayfia, the teleportation array beneath our feet pulsed with brilliant light. A second later, the world shifted.

We arrived—not in a grand audience chamber or a formal reception hall—but in a lavishly appointed dining room. The scent of spiced meats and roasted vegetables drifted into my senses, warm and inviting. My stomach, traitorous thing, rumbled faintly at the aroma.

"Welcome, Lords and Ladies of House Gremory and Phenex."

The voice that greeted us was as arresting as it was warm. I turned to look—and despite having seen her image more than once, I still wasn’t prepared.

Lady Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas was unlike any noble I’d encountered.

Her skin shimmered with a smooth bluish-green hue, reminiscent of the ancient Succubi. Her eyes—red, pink, and neon green—glowed with a layered intelligence, wicked amusement, and something older, deeper. Her figure was small, but the energy she radiated filled the room like a wildfire waiting to be unleashed.

But it was her clothing—or rather, the shocking lack of it—that stole everyone’s breath.

A tank top clung to her chest, leaving little to the imagination. Booty shorts hugged hips and thighs that seemed sculpted for temptation itself, while a loose jacket hung over her shoulders like a mockery of formality. It was indecent, it was irreverent—and it worked. She didn’t look vulgar. She looked powerful, in full control of the image she projected.

I shifted my gaze to Riser. Predictably, his jaw was slack. The little bastard couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

He wasn’t the only one.

Lord Rupal looked faintly stunned. Even Lady Phenex was staring, her expression caught somewhere between admiration and shock, and it looked like Lady Ravel had gotten her first ever lesbian awakening. Only Grayfia, my husband, and I managed to hold our expressions steady—Grayfia due to sheer will, my husband out of long-practiced restraint, and me… well, I’ve seen a great many things in my lifetime, and this woman? She was a walking enigma.

"I believe that we only have a limited amount of time for our meeting, yes?" Rebecca's voice flowed like silk and smoke, with a cadence that teased at truths layered beneath every word.

Grayfia nodded, stepping forward as if on cue. “Indeed. We’re ready to proceed when you are, Lady Glaysa-Labolas.”

"Very well then. Lords and Ladies, why don’t you take a seat? It’s always best to talk business while eating."

Her smile was radiant but sharp—like the edge of a glass blade. I found myself returning the gesture, more out of reflex than genuine mirth. Still, I moved to follow her suggestion, settling beside my husband with a sense of practiced grace.

Then she clapped her hands, and the room shifted again—not in magic, but in presence.

A number of women entered—some tall, some short, all beautiful in their own dazzling ways. They bore trays piled high with delicacies. Roasted duck glazed in honey, smoked cheeses, grilled fish dressed in citrus and herbs, warm bread with melting butter—each dish more decadent than the last.

My attention, however, locked onto the red-haired woman trailing at the end of the procession.

Rias.

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. She crossed the room with confident strides, and without hesitation, seated herself beside Lady Glaysa-Labolas—at the head of the table. The message she sent was clear, loud as a war horn. She’d chosen a side. Claimed it.

I grinned, despite myself. Riser’s expression soured instantly. His teeth clenched, his brow twitched, and that arrogant sneer melted into a tight grimace.

He finally looked away from the rest of the beautiful women standing behind Rebecca, but only because seeing Rias take her place had pierced through his lust-addled daze like an arrow.

Serves him right.

The atmosphere grew heavier, but not uncomfortable. No, it was a thickening of interest, of anticipation. Something about this entire situation was off-kilter in a way I couldn’t quite place. Rebecca’s beauty was undeniable, her presence magnetic, but there was more to her. A weight, a pressure, like standing at the edge of a cliff and not knowing whether you’re going to fall—or be pushed.

She hadn't told a single lie so far, I realized. Everything she said was perfectly true, and yet… there was something about her phrasing. Every word out of her mouth felt like it had a double meaning. A twist. A trap laced in honey.

Still, no one questioned her. We all obeyed.

And when she sat down at the head of the table, next to Rias, legs crossed and chin resting against her palm in a mockery of courtly elegance, I knew this meeting would be unlike any I’d ever attended.

Grayfia remained standing, awaiting the formal beginning of the talks. Rebecca, however, reached for a glass of deep crimson wine, sniffed it, then took a long sip before finally speaking again.

"I do hope everything meets your standards," she said. Her gaze flicked across each of us, lingering just long enough to unnerve. "I’m told I have rather particular tastes."

There was that almost-smile again. Sharp, playful, dangerous.

No one spoke. Even Riser, for once, stayed quiet.

For now.

Chapter Text

{Venelena's POV}

The meeting was going surprisingly well. Surprisingly, because I'd expected shouting, posturing, and perhaps the flinging of wine goblets—or flaming projectiles, considering who was involved. But here we were, seated in the ornate dining room of Lady Rebecca's manor, and the only thing on fire was the slow burn of tension hanging over the massive table. It smelled like roasted duck, wood polish, and impending doom.

We had barely settled into our seats when the terms of the Rating Game were brought up. Rias’s hand in marriage—that was the prize. As simple and heavy as that. Lady Glaysa-Labolas, representing Rebecca, voiced her side with elegant brevity. Rias Gremory, the Crimson-Haired Ruin Princess, would belong to Rebecca, should she win. No tricks, no fine print. It was oddly refreshing.

Riser Phenex, of course, decided he had to be the loudest bitch in the room.

The arrogant little peacock leaned back in his chair with all the smugness of a rooster who thought he’d already fucked the henhouse. "If I win," he said, his voice oozing entitlement, "I’ll take Rias, obviously. But I’ll also be claiming Lady Rebecca and her entire Peerage... as my slaves."

A silence fell across the room, not the tense kind but the kind right before a bomb detonates. And detonate, she did.

Lady Rebecca, until then gracious and eerily calm—an aura of lazy confidence wrapped around her like a silk robe—shifted. Subtle. Dangerous. Her entire demeanor morphed as if the skin of civility she wore was peeled off to reveal something... feral underneath.

"Slaves?" she repeated, her voice dropping an octave, sweet as poisoned honey. "Is that what you think I am? A thing to be owned?"

Riser blinked. That was his first mistake.

She smiled. That was his second.

"Let me get this straight. You believe that, in some idiotic fever dream where you somehow beat me, you get to stuff me and my girls into collars and parade us around like shiny toys? Darling, I've seen ego, but yours? It's a whole damn ecosystem."

Riser tried to speak. She did not let him.

"No, no. Please. Don't interrupt. I'm savoring this. You see, when a man like you opens his mouth, I don’t hear words—I hear the clatter of insecurity and daddy issues. Tell me, Riser, do you puff your chest like that because it's empty inside, or are you just compensating for the sad little ember you call a cock?"

Raven Phenex, Lady of the Phenex House and mother of this delightful trainwreck, actually choked on her wine. Ravel blinked. Twice.

Lord Rupal Phenex looked like he'd swallowed a porcupine dipped in vinegar.

Rebecca didn’t stop.

"And you, Lord Rupal," she turned her attention to the patriarch, whose face went even stiffer, like his pride had been vacuum-sealed. "You're either painfully unaware of what a spectacular disappointment your son is, or you're complicit. Which is it?" She cocked her head. "No need to answer. That half-dead stare of yours says enough."

His mouth opened, but nothing came out except a wet cough.

Lady Raven was watching Rebecca now with a gaze that could best be described as, ‘I want to fuck her and maybe die doing it.’

Even I, Venelana Gremory—noblewoman, dignified matriarch, experienced and discerning—found myself crossing my legs under the table.

Rebecca leaned back, sipping her wine lazily. "I don't make threats, Lord Phenex. I make promises. And should your son attempt to touch anyone in my Peerage, I won’t just defeat him. I’ll break him. And I’ll do it wearing heels, just to twist the knife."

She looked at Riser again, now wilting visibly under her stare. "Honestly, you're lucky this meeting came with good food. I’d hate to waste a table setting by smearing your pride all over it."

Riser looked close to tears. I almost pitied him. Almost.

"So," Rebecca continued, casual again, even smiling. "Since your little twink over there wagered lives he has no right to, I’ll be adding a few conditions of my own. Should I win—no, when I win—I want a supply of Phenex Tears. Not the diluted merchant shit. The real deal. And... Ravel."

"M-me?" Ravel blinked again, lips parting in surprise, but her cheeks flushed a deep pink.

"Yes, you," Rebecca said smoothly. "I like shiny things, and you’re shiny. You’ll be part of my Peerage."

Lord Rupal stood up. "That’s outrageous! She is not—"

"Sit the fuck down, Rupal," Rebecca snapped, not even looking his way. "You're not exactly in a position to negotiate, unless you want me to start describing, in vivid detail, the way your entire house is bleeding influence faster than Riser bleeds self-respect."

He sat.

To everyone’s surprise—mine included—Ravel didn’t protest. If anything, her gaze softened, lips curling upward as she watched Rebecca with unfiltered admiration.

Lady Raven's wine glass had been empty for the last five minutes, but she kept raising it to her lips, eyes glued to Rebecca's mouth. I caught her glancing at the curve of Rebecca’s exposed collarbone more than once. I couldn’t even blame her.

"Do you consent, Ravel?" Rebecca asked, this time with a strange softness in her voice.

Ravel nodded. "I do."

Rebecca smiled, and for a moment, she looked at Ravel the same way she looked at Rias—tender, reverent, like she was made of glass and stars.

Rias, sitting beside her, blushed deeply, fingers twining with Rebecca's under the table.

"You're mine, when I win," Rebecca whispered to Rias, loud enough only for a few of us to hear. "Not because I’m taking you, but because you want to be taken."

Rias smiled and leaned in, their foreheads brushing, the heat between them palpable. It made something deep in my gut flutter. That was not the look of a political marriage. That was the look of people who had seen the worst of each other and decided, 'Yes, you.'

At one point, Rebecca reached for a piece of roasted duck and offered it to Rias with her fingers. Rias leaned in, lips closing over Rebecca’s fingers in a slow, deliberate gesture. I watched Raven’s thighs twitch. Mine, too.

Even the servants looked flustered.

"So," I finally said, clearing my throat with a cough that was far too pointed, "shall we put these terms in writing? Or shall we keep negotiating until someone gets fucked right here on the table?"

Rebecca turned to me, amused. "Oh, Venelana. Tempting. But maybe after dessert."

I smirked. "I’ll hold you to that."

Raven exhaled sharply. Ravel looked like her soul had just left her body. Riser was quietly dying inside. Rupal looked like he aged twenty years.

Honestly? Best dinner I’ve had in decades.

And the food? Divine.

The duck was glazed in something citrusy, the potatoes crispy, the wine rich and dark. But none of that compared to the true delicacy of the evening: watching Lady Rebecca dismantle an entire household of arrogant nobility with nothing but her voice, her charm, and an aura that could bend steel.

It made me understand how Rias looked at her. It made me understand why, even now, I couldn’t look away.

And gods help me—I didn’t want to.

Once Rebecca wins this Rating Game, she’ll be family. She’ll be ours. And when that day comes, I’ll be at her manor often. Whether to see Rias or to taste that divine cooking, or maybe, just maybe, to find out if her bite is as good as her bark.

Either way… I’m very much looking forward to dessert.

{Rebecca's POV}

The meeting went well enough, all things considered. It was tense, sure—hell, you could’ve sliced the tension in the air with a dull butter knife and still drawn blood—but it wasn’t the kind of meeting that ended in fire and fury. Not yet, anyway. I behaved, which is saying something. I didn’t even punch anyone, though the urge to do so boiled beneath my skin like magma beneath a paper-thin crust.

When Riser opened his smug fucking mouth and let loose the load of bullshit he thought counted as diplomacy—talking about how I and my lovers should just accept our place as his playthings—I swear, I nearly snapped his neck there and then. My fingers twitched, knuckles cracking from how tight I clenched my fists. It wasn’t just the arrogance, though that alone deserved a kick in the teeth. It was the way he looked at them—my girls. Like they were things. Toys to be collected, played with, discarded.

Rias flinched when he said it. My beautiful Rias. She tried to keep her composure, but I could see the way her smile faltered, the subtle tightening of her jaw, the slight tremble in her fingers. I know her well enough now to catch those things. And that was the moment I decided—I wouldn’t just beat Riser. No. That bastard was going to fucking suffer.

Originally, I planned on simply humiliating him during the Rating Game. Put on a good show, let him feel every ounce of shame that came from thinking he could bully and buy his way through life. But now? I intended to make him regret every breath he ever took, every word he ever said, and every look he ever gave to the women I cherished.

I wasn’t worried about his so-called immortality. People liked to spout that word like it meant invincibility. It didn’t. It was a trick, a facade, propped up by a finite resource—Mana. Equivalent Exchange still applied, even here. Regeneration had a cost. A cost I planned on making him pay, over and over and over again. He bled Mana every time he healed, and I had more ways to make him bleed than he had years in his charmed, shallow life.

If their so-called immortality was so impressive, then how come the Phenex bloodline wasn’t ruling the Underworld outright? They were rare for a reason. Riser’s bullshit was a crutch, and I was going to kick it out from under him. Again and again and again.

I’d thought about freezing him—locking him in ice so thick he’d choke on his own breath. Or maybe smashing his skull open, just to see the moment when panic sparked in his eyes before he knit himself back together. But those were just thoughts. Now? Now I was crafting a fucking symphony of pain.

And I’d play it note by goddamn note.

He strutted like he was the second coming of every wet dream that ever dripped out of popular culture’s collective mind. He wasn’t. He was a cliché in a suit. A preening, plastic, peacock of a bastard. He had one trick—burning. Me? I had tricks layered on top of tricks. [Templates], [Talents], and enough pain to share with the whole Phenex family.

But it wasn’t just about rage. Not really. Rage is easy. It’s hot, it’s fast, it’s fleeting. No. What simmered in me was something colder, deeper. Protective fury, the kind that etched itself into your bones and never let go. Because those girls? They were mine. Not as objects, not as property. They chose me, and I chose them, and the bond between us was sacred. Something Riser could never understand.

I glanced to the side, eyes locking with Kyoko’s. Her face was stoic, but her fingers found mine, gripping tightly. No words needed. Just that small connection, grounding me.

Saeko stood behind her, poised like a blade unsheathed. Even in stillness, she was lethal. Her eyes held a quiet storm—she, too, wanted blood, but she’d wait. For me.

Rei, bubbly as ever, was unusually silent. Her hand curled around my bicep, not for attention, but comfort. For both of us.

Saya muttered something under her breath—probably a scathing observation about Riser’s fashion sense or IQ—but her voice was tight. Controlled. Like she wanted to scream but settled for a hiss.

Shizuka and Rika stayed close together, watching me with a strange blend of worry and admiration. I didn’t deserve them, but fuck, I was going to earn them every single day.

Yuriko was silent, arms crossed, her eyes glinting with something far older than fury. She’d been a mother once, in another world. That never left her. I knew what she saw in Riser—someone who needed to be corrected.

And then there was Rias. Her voice was calm when she spoke, but I knew her well enough to see through it. She was scared. Not of me—never of me—but of what might happen. Of what the fallout would be. Of what she might lose.

I wanted to reach out. Wrap her in my arms. Kiss her forehead and promise her it would all be okay. But we weren’t quite there yet. There was love between us, unspoken but undeniable. Every brush of her fingers against mine, every glance, every soft smile—it all said what she couldn’t. Not yet.

Akeno was similar. She played the flirt, as always, but even that had softened around me. Less teasing, more tender. She brought me tea the night before, without a word, just set it beside me and let her hand linger on my shoulder. A silent gesture, filled with meaning.

We hadn’t crossed the line yet, but I felt it. The pull. The gravity. And when it happened—when they were ready—it wouldn’t be lust. It would be love. And I would treasure it.

Still, for now, I had to deal with Riser.

The Rating Game would be our stage, and I would give the Underworld a performance they’d never forget. Not just a battle. A reckoning.

I spent hours strategizing, mapping out every move, every possibility. I shared it with the girls, and together we refined the plan. Everyone had a role, everyone had a target. No one was left out. We were a team, a family, and we would crush Riser’s arrogance under our boots.

We trained harder than ever. Saeko sparred with Yuriko, their blades clashing in a beautiful, brutal dance. Saya worked on tech, enhancing our gear. Rika pushed herself past her limits. Shizuka perfected her healing arts and even began tapping into Beast abilities with terrifying efficiency.

Kyoko meditated beside me, her aura growing sharper, more focused. Rei ran drills until she collapsed, always smiling, always ready for more. We were preparing for war, but we did it with laughter and teasing and stolen kisses between punches.

Every night, I held them. One or two at a time, sometimes more. Not always for sex—though, fuck, that was amazing—but just to be near. To let them know they were safe. That I was here.

And every night, I thought of Rias and Akeno. Of what could be. Of what would be, when they finally stepped into the circle we’d made.

{Rias's POV}

Rebecca and everyone else were far stronger than I had ever imagined. I'd always known she was powerful, of course—I wasn’t stupid—but power on paper was different from power in motion, and until today, I had only seen slivers of her potential. She hadn't yet participated in a Rating Game, so I assumed she and her Peerage were inexperienced. I believed that, perhaps, their strength was mostly theoretical or limited to skirmishes with Stray Devils and the like.

Yes, I knew that Rebecca had once slaughtered thirty Stray Exorcists all on her own, which was impressive, undeniably so. But I dismissed it as some kind of anomaly, a one-time feat made possible through sheer luck or preparation. I never considered it might be her baseline. And maybe that was my mistake.

No, not maybe. Definitely.

Because today, I watched her Peerage fight for the first time.

And holy hell.

They were monsters. Every single one of them. Beautiful, terrifying, powerful monsters who didn’t just fight—they danced across the battlefield like artists, each movement calculated, each clash a song of fury and grace. The energy radiating from them was overwhelming, chaotic yet harmonious in some strange, primal way.

Rei-san, sweet and cheerful Rei-san, wielded a Sacred Gear that honestly scared the shit out of me. It pulsed with so much raw energy that it distorted the air around it, and I could tell—everyone could tell—it was far too powerful for her to wield at full strength. And yet, she held it with such conviction, even if it was restrained, only a bare imitation of an imitation. She fought like someone with something to prove, not to others, but to herself.

Saya-san—oh, Saya. That woman was half-kitsune and carried a literal fragment of Lady Amaterasu. Her magic crackled like sunlight breaking through a storm. Her smirk when she conjured up that hellish blaze was positively sinful. She clearly relished the chance to show off and made no effort to hide her pride. Her eyes glittered with mischief as she fought, tossing out clever quips and illusions that threw the enemy into disarray.

And then there was Saeko-san. Graceful, poised, and utterly lethal. She didn’t just hold the Spirit of Miyamoto Musashi—she embodied it. Her movements were fluid, almost hypnotic. I found myself staring more than once, caught in the way she carved through opponents with elegance that bordered on the divine. Each swing of her blade seemed to carry weight beyond its steel—like she was cutting through more than just flesh.

Yuriko-san was a storm all her own. Cold, composed, and regal in a way that made her seem untouchable. But beneath that maternal demeanor was something ancient. A fragment of Tiamat slumbered within her, and even though the dragon still lived, the piece embedded in Yuriko sang with primordial fury. Her strikes were brutal. Her magic? Overwhelming. You didn’t just see her spells—you felt them, rattling your bones, whispering of oceans and extinction.

Rika-san was clever—almost too clever. She had a Sacred Gear that mirrored Blade Blacksmith, but it wasn’t the same, maybe a variant? Or a different Sacred Gear entirely. Her arrows weren’t just weapons; they were expressions of her will. And her aim? Unerring. She fought with a playful cruelty, like a cat toying with her prey. I’d seen her blow a demon’s head clean off and then giggle like she was sharing a private joke with herself.

Shizuka-san was the wildcard. Clumsy and ditzy off the battlefield, but in the thick of combat? Satans. She moved with a strange rhythm, her unpredictability making her dangerous in a way no one could quite quantify. We didn’t know who her Heroic Spirit was—maybe even she didn’t—but the way her aura flared during the fight made me certain it was someone formidable. Possibly someone forgotten to time but not to power.

Alice-chan was the youngest, the quietest. But the soul inside her? Medea. The Witch of Betrayal. Her spells were efficient, cruel, and deeply intelligent. She never wasted a single motion, never chanted more than she needed to. The battlefield bent to her will, each movement calculating, surgical. She was terrifying in a soft, subtle way. The kind of danger that didn’t scream—it whispered.

And Rebecca.

Rebecca was divine.

She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t fight so much as command the battlefield. Every glance, every gesture was calculated to bring victory. Her voice carried through the chaos with certainty, confidence, truth. She was the kind of person who made you want to follow her without needing to be asked.

And she was honest—achingly, brutally so. Everything she said rang with a weight I couldn’t place at first, until I realized: she never lied. Not once. It wasn’t just that she didn’t—she couldn’t. Every word she spoke was steeped in layered meaning, careful precision, and iron-clad truth.

I found myself looking at her differently today. Not that I hadn’t already fallen in love with her, but today... Today made it undeniable.

She was radiant.

She was terrifying.

She was mine—at least, I hoped she would be. Soon.

Even her new Pawn—Dee-chan, the fucking Red Dragon Empress—was loyal to her. I still couldn’t wrap my head around that. When had Rebecca managed to Reincarnate her? How the hell had she pulled it off? And Dee-chan, for all her sarcasm and bluster, doted on Rebecca like a protective puppy. One that could blow up mountains.

Their bond was real.

And it made me ache.

Not out of jealousy, but longing. I wanted that bond too. I wanted to be hers. I wanted to fight beside her, to sleep beside her, to laugh and cry and live beside her.

Later that night, after the spar had been finished and everyone was patching themselves up, I watched her with her Peerage. There was love in every gesture, every touch. She moved between them like the sun orbiting her own stars. Rei curled up against her arm, content. Saya teased her mercilessly but held her hand the whole time. Saeko leaned against her shoulder in quiet satisfaction. Yuriko brushed the sweat from her brow, maternal pride glowing in her eyes.

Shizuka giggled in her lap while Alice curled against her side like a cat. Rika offered her a drink and snuck in a kiss when she thought no one was looking.

Rebecca laughed—genuinely laughed—soft and warm and safe. I wanted to be part of that circle. To belong in that embrace. To know what it felt like to be held by her, claimed by her.

Akeno stood beside me, arms crossed, biting her lip. She was watching, too. I caught her eyes, and she smiled.

“She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” Akeno whispered.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “She really is.”

“She’s going to win.”

“She will.”

Akeno laughed lightly and bumped her shoulder against mine. “You going to be ready for the engagement?”

“I’m working on it.” I grumbled, cheeks hot.

“Need help picking out lingerie?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

She only laughed harder.

But truth be told? I did need help. Because if I was going to be Rebecca’s, truly and openly, then I wanted that moment to be perfect. And I wasn’t sure I could survive the teasing from Akeno alone.

Still. I had time. Rebecca was focused on the Rating Game now, and I knew—deep down, without a doubt—that she and her Peerage would win. They had to. Because Riser didn’t stand a fucking chance.

And when it was all over? When the dust had settled and the victory was ours?

I would finally have the courage to take her hand.

Not just in marriage.

But forever.

Chapter Text

{Ajuka's POV}

"Are you guys excited!?" Serafall chirped, practically bouncing on her seat like a giddy schoolgirl who had just seen her crush walk through the door. Her voice was almost musical, practically echoing through the high marble ceilings of the Underworld’s observation hall.

"I certainly am, Sera-chan. I certainly am." Serena responded with a smile, swirling a glass of deep crimson wine between her fingers. The glass caught the ambient lighting just so, giving her a regal air as we all settled in to watch the preparations for the Rating Game unfold.

This wasn’t just any game. This one felt different. Important.

For this Rating Game, the location had been firmly decided: the Underworld. The reason was simple. Curiosity. A shared, burning curiosity about Lady Glaysa-Labolas—Rebecca—who had, for years, remained an enigma to almost everyone in the Devil world. Whispers about her had spread like wildfire. So little was known about her that her name had become almost mythical in its obscurity. That vagueness? We’d helped cultivate it.

Now? The time for shadows had passed. The Rating Game between Lady Glaysa-Labolas and Lord Phenex was drawing attention from all corners of our society. Lord Phenex had a strong reputation—a King who only ever lost strategically, sealing alliances and brokered peace through intentional defeat. But this? This was different.

This was Rebecca’s debut.

Technically, this wasn't even an official Rating Game. It was framed as a challenge match, meaning the win-loss ratio wouldn't reflect in the formal records. But reputations? Status? Oh, those were very much on the line.

Naturally, we had to host it in the Underworld. There was simply no containing the anticipation otherwise. The actual match would be contained within a regulated pocket dimension, stabilized by dozens of spatial anchors and enchanted for extreme durability. We’d placed multiple cameras and sensor enchantments to allow for full observation without interrupting the flow of battle.

"Although," Serena said, her tone teasing as she leaned over toward me, her long silver hair brushing my arm, "I don't think we're as excited as Ajuka here. Even Falbium loses to her."

At the mention of my name, my attention snapped back. I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow at her, mildly caught off-guard. "Yes?" I asked, unable to keep the confusion out of my voice.

"Nothing, nothing." she replied with a smug little smirk, taking another sip of wine.

I rolled my eyes but let it slide, shifting my focus back to the holographic projection hovering in the center of the chamber. It displayed Lady Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas and her Peerage in their assigned waiting room. What struck me most was how relaxed they were. Lounging, chatting casually, showing no signs of nerves or pressure. And Rebecca? She was the eye of the storm. Reclined in her chair, one leg over the other, arms behind her head, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

She looked completely fucking unbothered.

The kind of confidence that either came from total ignorance—or absolute certainty.

Many voices around me criticized her posture, scoffing at her seemingly flippant attitude. I had to bite my tongue to keep from correcting them. Idiots, the lot of them. They couldn’t see it—the storm under the surface. The careful stillness of a predator who knew exactly when to strike. I, on the other hand, knew better. I knew what Lady Rebecca was truly capable of.

She would win. Of that, I had no doubt.

And if they knew what I knew... Gods, they’d be pissing themselves.

Rebecca’s Ace in the Hole had caught even me off-guard—and I had surveillance all over her fucking manor. Somehow, I missed the arrival of the current generation’s Red Dragon Empress. She was just there one day. Like a damn ghost. Her presence was more draconic than any host of the Boosted Gear I’d ever met. I didn’t understand how I’d overlooked her arrival, but it didn’t matter now.

Rebecca had the Empress. And with that, the field had shifted.

I leaned back in my own chair, arms crossed over my chest, watching as the screens flicked to different angles. We caught a brief image of Rebecca standing up and moving toward her peerage, her expression still casual but her eyes glowing with that strange violet hue I’d come to recognize—an uncanny intensity that made my heart skip a beat.

Gods, she was beautiful.

That short frame, toned and battle-hardened, a perfect blend of chaos and elegance. Her hair, bleached neon green, bounced as she walked. Tattoos glowed faintly on her skin, resonating with some internal power that defied proper classification.

Even in her moments of calm, she radiated danger. Not the erratic kind. No, hers was the quiet kind—the type you never saw coming until your throat was already slit.

I’d tried to analyze her power signature before. Failed every time. Nothing ever made sense. And I knew magic. I was magic.

But Rebecca? She wasn’t born of our world. She was something else. Something raw. Unfiltered. Her Patron—whoever or whatever it was—was fucking terrifying.

And yet...

She had such tenderness in her.

As I watched, she approached Saya, who had been fiddling with a rifle’s scope. Without a word, Rebecca slid in behind her, her arms wrapping around the taller girl’s waist as she rested her chin on Saya’s shoulder. Saya smiled, unbothered, leaning into her touch.

A brief kiss to the neck. A small laugh. A whisper.

Even without audio, I could feel the softness of the moment. The intimacy. The utter safety they felt around her.

She moved on, tapping Shizuka lightly on the head as she passed, earning a little squeal and a playful shove. Rika caught her next, grabbing her hand and tugging her in for a sudden, passionate kiss that made Serena gasp beside me.

"Oof, damn... they're cute." she whispered.

Cute didn’t even begin to cover it.

I’d never seen such devotion before. Not like this. Not the kind that came from fear or power, but from love. Fierce, blinding love.

Even Saeko, who always bore that calm, almost meditative silence, broke into a faint smile when Rebecca tousled her hair and gave her a wink.

And Rei? Gods. The way she looked at Rebecca... like she held the damn stars.

This wasn’t just a peerage. This was a family. A chaotic, powerful, sex-crazed, terrifying family—but still a family.

Yuriko stood tall at the back, arms folded, her presence commanding. Yet even she softened when Rebecca placed a hand on her arm, leaning in to murmur something private. Yuriko nodded solemnly, then leaned down and pressed her forehead to Rebecca’s.

My heart clenched.

I wanted that. I wanted her.

Fuck.

I crossed my legs, discreetly adjusting my posture. Serena noticed. Of course she noticed. Her smirk said everything.

“Shut up.” I muttered under my breath.

She only giggled.

The match was about to start. Lights dimmed around the viewing platform as the countdown began. I held my breath, my eyes never leaving the image of Rebecca on the screen.

And as the portal to the arena opened and her peerage stepped through, one by one—proud, powerful, and unshakable—I whispered to myself:

“Make them believe.”

Because I already did.

{3rd Person's POV}

<Are both Kings ready?>

Grayfia's crisp voice rang out across the intercom system, calm and commanding. Rebecca’s lips curled into a lopsided grin, anticipation sparking in her eyes. "He better fucking be," she said with a snort, voice sharp and confident. "Because I certainly am."

She spun her twin pistols, both gleaming with runes and enchantments—Saya had gone all out, layering the weapons with enough magical firepower to level a small village. They clicked neatly into her holsters, the sound satisfying.

A pause followed, silent and expectant. Rebecca raised an eyebrow. Riser must be taking his sweet fucking time.

The sentence hung in the air like smoke, unfinished.

Rebecca twirled her pistols again, fingers itching.

<...begins now.>

In an instant, the waiting room shimmered away, magic sweeping the world out from under their feet. The sterile white of the prep chamber gave way to rugged terrain—ruins eerily similar to Stonehenge, weathered pillars casting long shadows under an amber sky. The surrounding land stretched out into fields and hills, jagged with rock and light vegetation. About a kilometer away, another identical ruin stood like a mirror, and even from here, Rebecca could make out the silhouettes of the enemy.

"Well, fuck. So much for reconnaissance." she muttered, a few careful plans unraveling in her mind like torn thread. With a careless shrug, she turned to Yuriko.

"My Queen," Rebecca said, her voice laced with reverence and playful warmth. She took Yuriko’s gloved hand and placed a lingering kiss on its back. "If you so please?"

Yuriko chuckled softly, her crimson eyes glowing faintly. A viscous black substance began to pool beneath her feet, spreading outward like an oil slick. It didn’t touch any of the team, but the terrain beyond their circle quickly succumbed to it. As the dark matter reached its maximum radius of about twenty meters, shapes began to rise from the mire.

Ten monsters emerged, their bodies grotesque and bestial. Chimeric creatures cobbled from the legends of ancient Greece—lion-headed beasts with serpentine tails, taloned paws, and leathery wings too small for flight. Their howls pierced the air.

“Go, my children~.” Yuriko sang, voice silk over steel. With that, the monsters charged forward, galloping across the open field.

Rebecca turned to Saya, catching her eye.

“My love~?” she said, her tone melting into something soft and teasing. Saya blushed, a radiant pink staining her cheeks as Rebecca pulled her into an embrace. The warm press of their bodies was familiar and comforting, like home wrapped in armor.

Without a word, Saya summoned a glyph, the magical circle expanding in the air above them. Within it, a hawk's-eye view of the battlefield took form. Riser was pacing near his side’s ruin, barking orders and pointing furiously. His team nodded as one before beginning their advance.

“They’re coming straight at us. No subtlety at all,” Rebecca murmured, her voice dry. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I wonder who he'll send to deal with the beasts.”

She didn’t need to wonder long.

Saeko stepped forward, her usual serene expression broken by a bloodthirsty grin. The air around her seemed to hum with anticipation.

Rebecca chuckled, the sound fond. “Give them hell, my pretty little psycho.”

That was all Saeko needed.

She bolted off, katana already unsheathed, sprinting toward the oncoming battle with frightening speed.

As the others set up defensive positions, Rei appeared at Rebecca's side with a mischievous glint in her eye and a handful of grapes she had somehow stashed in her cleavage. She offered them wordlessly, and Rebecca popped one in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Honestly, they could end this whole match quickly. But this wasn’t just about winning.

It was about making a fucking statement.

The beasts crashed into Riser’s advancing pawns with the force of a tidal wave. The terrain trembled beneath clawed feet and panicked screams. One of the monstrous lions lunged forward, jaws unhinging far wider than natural, and clamped down on a pawn’s shoulder. With a sickening crunch, it tore away armor, flesh, and bone alike, flinging the devil’s broken body aside like a ragdoll.

The others didn’t fare much better.

Another pawn tried to blast a chimera with a focused magical beam, but the monster barely flinched. It barrelled through the attack, trampling its target underfoot. Blood sprayed in a thick arc, painting the stone red.

One of Riser’s pawns—quick and agile—managed to get behind a monster and drive a blade into its flank. The creature screeched, wheeled around, and grabbed her with its tail. The snake-like appendage coiled around her torso, crushing her ribs before hurling her into another pillar with a spine-shattering crack.

Saeko entered the fray just as one of the pawns managed to stab a beast through the eye. The creature screamed and thrashed, briefly stunned. Saeko used the opportunity to decapitate the distracted pawn without breaking stride, the body disappearing before her sword could truly cut through fully.

She spun, slashed, ducked, and cleaved. Where the monsters overwhelmed through force, Saeko carved through the chaos like a blade through silk. Yet she never touched the beasts—they were hers to observe, not to destroy. Her katana only fell upon Riser’s devils.

Soon, only mangled bodies remained, strewn across the battlefield like broken toys.

Back at the ruin, Rebecca and her harem watched through Saya’s projection. Silence reigned.

“I’d say they lasted longer than expected.” Rika muttered, arms crossed. Her eyes glittered with amusement.

“Not by much.” Yuriko replied with a shrug.

Rebecca tilted her head and grinned.

“That was only round one.”

As the tension settled, the harem relaxed.

Shizuka flopped onto a conjured velvet couch, arms open wide. “This is so exciting!~ Like a real war, but, y’know, with less paperwork.”

Rebecca chuckled and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before nuzzling into her neck. Shizuka giggled and ran her fingers through Rebecca’s hair, her long legs wrapping lazily around her waist.

“I love your bloodlust, babe.” she murmured.

“You just love watching me get all riled up,” Rebecca replied with a smirk.

“Nooo~,” Shizuka cooed, “I love everything about you.”

Beside them, Saya leaned against Rebecca’s back, her arms wrapping possessively around her waist. “We’re making him look like an absolute joke.”

“That’s the point,” Rebecca answered. “Riser’s too used to being coddled. He’s never been broken.”

Rei tugged on Rebecca’s sleeve, her eyes soft. “Will you let me go next?”

Rebecca studied her expression and gave a nod, tucking a strand of hair behind Rei’s ear. “Give him hell, sweetheart.”

“Will do, boss~.”

The next wave approached on foot—Riser’s knights and rooks, led by his Queen. They came with purpose, but also hesitation. The impression of mangled corpses of their teammates littering the ground clearly hadn’t done their morale any favors, but they took solace in the fact that they should have surely been saved before death took hold of them.

Back at the ruins, Yuriko’s monsters melted back into the black goo, having completed their task. Rebecca gave Yuriko another kiss on the cheek.

“You were wonderful, as always.”

Yuriko beamed, clearly pleased. “And that was just the warm-up.”

The air grew colder as another figure stepped forward.

Rika.

Her bow materialized in her hands, glistening with demonic upgrades. She knelt beside a pillar, her movements efficient and practiced.

Rebecca grinned.

Time for the next performance.

The knights and rooks were tense, practically buzzing with nervous anticipation. They had watched with wide, disbelieving eyes as the pawns were effortlessly eradicated. Not just defeated—obliterated, erased from the battlefield with disturbing ease. The pawns hadn't even stood a chance, torn through by things that shouldn't have existed in a Rating Game. Abominations, summoned beasts—whatever they were, they weren’t supposed to be part of this.

And then came the woman. The fucking woman.

She had descended like some divine executioner, violet hair trailing behind her as her blade carved through the field. Pawns disappeared in a blink, each stroke more casual than the last. They’d thought this match would be easy. Riser was confident, cocky even. His Peerage was trained and seasoned. But now? Now they were shaken. None of them expected this. And the worst part was—they’d only seen one member of the enemy Peerage so far. Just one.

Thankfully, the purple-haired demoness had vanished. Maybe she could only fight in short bursts. Maybe there was a time limit on her abilities. Whatever the case, she was gone, and that gave them room to breathe.

Above them, their Queen floated vigilantly, scanning the terrain for movement. Even she hadn’t expected the pawns to fall so easily. Still, it was only the first move. The rules of the Rating Game ensured they weren’t dead, merely teleported out before mortal wounds could claim them. That alone brought some comfort.

The Queen grit her teeth.

Sure, the pawns were out, but that didn’t mean they were doomed. The enemy's tactics were surprising, unorthodox, underhanded—hell, even borderline illegal, in her mind. That had to be it. Their victory had to come from shock and awe, from deploying strange creatures and unexpected swordplay. The Queen refused to believe they were simply stronger. That their King—a newcomer, without any record in past Rating Games—was genuinely a superior tactician or warrior.

Then she saw a glint.

Just a flash of light—cold and metallic—from across the trees. That was the last thing she remembered. One blink, and she was in the infirmary, stunned, breath catching in her throat. She hadn't even heard the weapon before it came. Half a second later, and she would've been dead.

Back on the field, the knights and rooks remained unaware of their Queen's disappearance. They were still regrouping, huddling together while trying to grasp at a plan.

Then came the sound.

A strange hum, low and foreign. One of the knights, sharp-eyed and alert, looked up. Her gasp caught the others' attention. A blur of silver streaked the sky.

"Incoming!" she shouted.

The others barely had time to react. Arrows—dozens of them—rained down like divine punishment. One struck near a rook’s head, nearly impaling her, before she was teleported out by the system. Another followed, a rook whisked away just in time.

The remaining knight twisted her body, just barely avoiding the deadly barrage.

"Are you alright, Siris!?" one of the rooks shouted from behind cover.

Siris, breath shaky, nodded. "Y-Yeah, still here."

"Hmm? Good! It seems that Rika left some for me~!"

The voice was foreign. New. Teasing.

Both knights scrambled up, adrenaline surging. They turned—and there she stood.

A woman with a spear, relaxed posture, eyes glowing with lazy amusement. She twirled her weapon like it weighed nothing.

"Hi~! And bye~!"

She moved.

One moment she was there, the next she was upon Siris, who had just enough time to bring up her blade and deflect the strike. Sparks flew, the ground cracked beneath them.

"Karlamine!" Siris shouted.

But before her partner could help, the spear was already at her eye. The system blinked her out.

"Huh. That was weird." the spearwoman muttered.

Karlamine, roaring in fury, leapt from behind with her sword raised. But just as she swung, a second spear—thrown from the shadows—pierced through her gut. Her mouth opened in shock before she too was teleported away.

"Hmm~. Disappointing." said Rei, pouting at the fading glow of her enemies. Her spear shimmered in the sunlight, not a scratch on it.

"This was what we were working hard for?"

She spoke to no one, but her mind reached out. Through the bond, she felt Rebecca's laughter—guilty, amused, affectionate.

<Sorry,> Rebecca whispered in her mind, the tone smug and warm. <Didn’t expect them to be that weak.>

Rei smiled despite herself. If this was the strength of the generation's elites, then she didn’t have to worry about her lovers getting hurt. Still, that didn’t mean she’d let up on training. If anything, it made her want to push harder. She wanted to stay strong—not just for herself, but for Rebecca, for all of them.

In another part of the battlefield, away from the fight, Rebecca stood under the shade of an old oak, flanked by Shizuka and Rika. Shizuka rested her head against Rebecca’s shoulder, humming idly while Rika flicked a small knife between her fingers, watching it spin.

"So unfair," Shizuka whispered, voice laced with honey. "They didn’t even last long enough for me to stretch."

Rebecca chuckled, her lips curling into a grin.

"I did warn you it’d be boring, didn't I?"

Shizuka tilted her head up to meet Rebecca’s eyes. "Technically, you said you’d try to keep it interesting. That’s not a lie... but it’s not exactly the truth either."

Rebecca's smirk turned knowing. "You know how it is, sweetheart. I only speak in truths."

Rika snorted, tossing her knife into the air before catching it. "Fae word games again? You’re lucky you’re cute."

"Lucky? No. Blessed? Absolutely."

They all laughed, the moment gentle, warm. Rebecca reached out, brushing a hand along Shizuka’s cheek, then dragging her fingers down Rika’s neck before giving her collar a teasing tug.

Both women melted into her touch.

They weren’t just her lovers. They were hers in soul, in bond, in life. And she'd kill for them. Had killed for them.

Meanwhile, back in Riser’s territory, chaos brewed.

The golden-haired devil stood at the center of his command chamber, eyes bloodshot, lips curled in a tantrum-driven snarl. He threw a chalice across the room. It shattered against the wall.

"What the FUCK was that!?"

His remaining two Bishops stood nearby, scrambling to calm him. One of them was his sister, Ravel, whose face was pale but composed.

"Brother, please—"

"No! No, I will not calm down! This was supposed to be my victory! This was supposed to be easy! Those freaks shouldn’t have had summons! They shouldn’t have—"

"—they played within the rules, Riser," Ravel interrupted, softly but firmly. "They outmaneuvered us."

"I refuse to believe that!"

Riser stormed toward the table, slamming his fists down.

"This is a conspiracy. That woman, that Rebecca—"

He spat her name like venom.

"—she’s not even a proper King! She’s nothing! Some trash outsider!"

"She's dangerous," the other Bishop murmured, powering a subtle barrier around Riser to keep his rage from frying the tech. "We underestimated her."

"You think I don’t know that!?" Riser snapped.

He turned to the monitors, still showing live feed from the field. His knights were gone. His rooks. His Queen.

All that remained was him, his Bishops, and maybe a miracle.

Back on the battlefield, Rebecca looked up as Rei returned.

"All done?" she asked.

Rei nodded. "If there’s more, they’re hiding."

"Pity."

Rei approached her, pressing their foreheads together, breath soft. The moment lingered, then was interrupted by Saya appearing in a flash of light, grinning.

"You two done making out, or do I need to bring popcorn?"

Rebecca laughed, arms stretching. "Give us five more minutes and you’ll need a bottle of wine, too."

Saya rolled her eyes and stepped closer. Rebecca pulled her in without hesitation, arms wide, warm, encompassing. Her harem was hers—and they clung to her like a star.

The game wasn’t over yet, but it may as well have been.

And through Saya's little observational magic they watched, Riser screamed again, kicking over his throne.

Rebecca smiled.

It was a very good day.

Chapter Text

{Serena's POV}

Well, the Rating Game had finally begun, and gods, it was both thrilling and mind-numbingly predictable. I leaned back in my seat, fingers drumming on the armrest as I watched the battlefield unfold on the projection screen. The crowd around us was half-losing their minds, half-holding back yawns, depending on where their allegiances lay. I couldn’t blame either side. It wasn’t even the main event yet, and already, Rebecca’s Peerage was tearing through Riser’s like a buzzsaw through wet tissue paper.

And the kicker? Rebecca herself hadn’t even lifted a damn finger.

Only five members of her Peerage had made any moves, and yet the damage they inflicted was devastating. We knew Rebecca was strong. But this was something else entirely. It wasn’t even a fight; it was a dismantling.

Yuriko, Rebecca’s Queen, was the first to make a move. And gods, she was majestic. Deadly. Her summons were unlike anything I’d seen in a long while. Massive, otherworldly beasts, brimming with power and menace, emerged at her command. When the first one appeared, I heard gasps echo around the arena. Some even thought she had [Annihilation Maker], and I couldn’t blame them—I was one of them. But Rias, ever the observant one, clarified that Yuriko wasn’t the host. Apparently, Yuriko was something rarer: a natural-born Summoner. Practically extinct these days. A lost art.

Saeko moved next. Rebecca's Rook. Gods, that woman. Grace and death in one package. The moment she unsheathed her blade, a collective silence fell over the arena. Her strike came fast—one swing, clean, precise—and Riser’s pawns were on the floor, defeated. If not for the Rating Game’s protective mechanics, they’d be dead. Saeko would’ve ended their lives with a single swing. It earned a whistle from me. She moved like she enjoyed it too much.

Then there was Rika, one of Rebecca's Knights. A bow user, which already set her apart. Knights were supposed to be close-range sword dancers, right? Not this one. Rika drew her bow and loosed an arrow so fast I barely saw it. That thing nearly one-shot Riser's Queen and both his Rooks. The Knights barely dodged, and even then, I could tell they were rattled. Rika didn’t speak much, but the way she moved, her calm precision—it said everything. She was a predator.

Rebecca's second Knight, Rei, followed. She took down Riser's remaining Knights like it was a warm-up. She didn’t just win—she dominated. The grace, the poise, the way her spear danced through the air, it was mesmerizing. I couldn’t stop watching her.

Then there was Saya. The brains of the group. Her glyph work was immaculate. She created an observation sigil that latched onto Riser's position like a hawk, tracking his movements, feeding data to the others. It was subtle, but incredibly effective. Tactical superiority, magic precision—Rebecca had it all.

And that’s why it was exciting and boring. Exciting because, holy shit, I was watching masters at work. Boring because it was a goddamn landslide. Where was the struggle? The tension?

By this point, Riser was down to just himself and two Bishops—one of them being his precious sister. His forces were in tatters. And Rebecca? She hadn’t moved an inch from her throne.

Instead, she was lounging like a goddess of war, surrounded by her harem. Kyoko sat at her side, a hand on Rebecca’s thigh, her eyes dreamy and adoring. Rebecca, the smug minx, ran her fingers through Kyoko's hair with a gentleness that betrayed the chaos she could unleash. Their lips met briefly in a kiss that was tender, slow, intimate. It made my heart ache in that good kind of way.

"See! Mommy can't be defeated!" came the chirpy voice from beside me.

Alice.

The little Bishop had been left out of the game, mostly due to her age and the general consensus that children shouldn’t be battlefield fodder. She was curled up on Rias’s lap, being spoiled by the redhead like a pampered kitten. It was adorable. Alice had her arms wrapped around a stuffed rabbit, watching the screen with bright, excited eyes. Her faith in Rebecca was absolute, and I envied that innocence.

Then Rebecca moved.

Finally.

She rose from her seat with the kind of presence that made the entire arena hold its breath. Even without using a shred of power, she commanded attention. She leaned in and whispered something into Kyoko’s ear, who blushed crimson before giving her a loving nod. Another kiss was exchanged, this time longer, deeper.

Gods, the tenderness they shared.

I felt like I was intruding.

Rebecca pulled away with a wicked smirk, her eyes gleaming as she stepped forward. Flanking her was Dee—the Pawn, and, as we now knew, the current generation’s Red Dragon Empress. That reveal had shaken everyone. It was one thing to know Rebecca had a strong team, but to learn she had that monster tucked away as a Pawn? That was just unfair.

"I think it's time we end this farce." Rebecca said. Her voice carried across the battlefield, low and mocking, silk over steel. There was no lie in her tone. No boast. Just inevitability.

And of course, somewhere on the other side of the field, Riser was having a meltdown.

"This is bullshit! This is cheating! She’s not even fighting fair!" Riser bellowed, throwing a gilded goblet at the wall. It shattered, splashing wine over the floor and his own foot. "Do something! You two, buff me more! Now!"

His Bishops, exhausted and bruised, worked feverishly to cast enhancements on him. One of them was his sister, trying to stay composed while her brother ranted and screamed like a toddler denied his toy. He stomped around the observation room, tugging at his cloak, hair a mess.

"I’m supposed to win this! I’m a noble devil! A Phenex!"

Rebecca didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. She strode across the battlefield with Dee beside her, the two of them like death and fury in tandem. Dee didn’t speak much either, but the way she moved, the quiet way she looked at Rebecca—there was a deep respect there. Maybe more. The bond wasn’t carnal, not yet, but the tension hinted at something building. Slow, steady. Powerful.

Rebecca brushed her fingers over Dee’s jaw briefly. A soft touch. Dee leaned into it before breaking away, lightning coiling around her fists as she prepared to launch herself at Riser.

Kyoko called out from the sidelines, voice trembling with emotion. "Come back to me safe, dear."

Rebecca glanced back, and her smile was pure adoration. "Always."

And then she vanished in a flicker of motion, Dee trailing lightning in her wake.

I leaned forward, heart pounding.

This was going to be over in seconds.

And it was.

Dee struck first, crashing into Riser like a meteor, punching straight through his fire-shield like it was paper. The arena shook. His Bishops screamed. Rebecca appeared behind him before he could react, flicking him on the forehead with a glowing finger.

{Ddraig's POV}

"Make him experience hell, Dee~~!" Rebecca cheered from the sidelines, her voice bright and playful, almost musical with its chaotic lilt. Her arms were wrapped tightly around the enemy's Bishop—Ravel Phenex, if I remembered correctly. And yes, she was Riser’s younger sister. The King’s baby sister. And Rebecca, my beloved partner, was wrapped around her like they were old lovers at a summer festival. Flirting with the enemy in the middle of battle. Unbelievable.

And yet, I didn’t care. Not really. If anything, it felt like a release. A chance to finally go all out.

"And who the fuck are you!?" Riser spat as his face finished regenerating from the punch I'd opened with. He blinked, trying to focus his flames, but I could see the confusion and insult in his expression.

Good. I needed a punching bag, and Riser made himself the perfect one.

Sparring with the others had been enjoyable, yes—but I always had to hold back. They were friends. Lovers. Family. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt them the way I was built to hurt. But Riser? Riser tried to lay claim to Rebecca. My partner. My flame. The one who gave me form and freedom. So, he was free game.

I grinned, summoning my gauntlets. Crimson red, like my original self, but sleek and made just for my new hands. I slammed my fists together, the gauntlets sparking as a surge of power flowed between them. Riser raised a brow at that, cocky despite the damage I’d already dealt.

"A Sacred Gear? Hah! So what!? You think ju—"

I didn’t let him finish. Whatever delusional shit he was about to spew, I wasn't interested. My fist met his jaw with a crack that echoed across the battlefield. His jaw flew off, literal chunks of bone and cartilage spiraling away in slow motion before his flames could even start to heal him.

Before he could regain focus, I was already moving. My next strike crushed his shoulder, shattering the bone and sending his arm flying in the opposite direction. Flames burst from the wound, licking at the edges of my body, but I felt nothing but satisfaction.

"Fucking bi—"

His jaw had reformed surprisingly fast, but I didn’t let him finish that one either. I grabbed his face, fingers digging into his mouth, and tore his tongue out with a wet, ripping sound. The scream that followed was music to my ears, raw and ragged, filled with disbelief and pain.

Fire erupted around us, lashing out wildly in retaliation. To a normal person, it would’ve been death. Even some high-tier Devils might’ve staggered. But me? I didn’t flinch. Saya had enchanted my outfit earlier, the one Rebecca picked out for me—tight, black leather, but laced with enchantments that shrugged off fire like morning mist. And Riser’s fire was pitiful compared to the shit I had endured before.

He tried to skewer me with a flaming lance. Tried.

I swatted it away like it was a stick thrown by a toddler, brought my knee up, and drove it into his ribs. The crack that followed was far more satisfying than it should’ve been. Riser burst into flames again, trying to cover his retreat, but I could still smell him. Fire couldn’t hide his panic.

Flames gathered behind me. He thought he was clever.

I grabbed him by the throat before he could strike, slamming him into the ground with enough force to crater the earth beneath us. And I didn’t stop. I straddled him, fists raining down in a red haze of fury. He tried everything—teleporting, flaming shields, even begging. But none of it worked.

He deserved every hit. Every goddamn punch.

Centuries locked inside that cursed container. Forgotten. Powerless. Alone.

And now, finally free, I had an outlet. And Rebecca was watching. That made it all the more satisfying.

I was just about to cave his face in again—what was left of it—when a soft hand closed around my forearm. Not forceful. Not demanding. Just there. Steady. Present.

Rebecca.

Her golden eyes, bright with mischief and something deeper—something only I saw—stared into mine. “Was that enough, Dee?” she asked, voice soft. Not judgmental. Not mocking. Just soft, like velvet brushing against a burn.

My throat tightened. I hated how much I loved her in that moment.

"No." I said simply, the word aching on my tongue.

She didn’t scold me. Didn’t lecture. Instead, she pulled me off Riser and into her arms. I didn’t cry. I’d cried enough when she first gave me form, gave me purpose. But I held her tightly, burying my face into the crook of her neck, her scent grounding me more than any spell ever could.

Eventually, we had to separate, but our fingers stayed entwined.

“You really did a number on him, Dee.” she said, giving me a proud little smirk.

I clicked my tongue, looking over my shoulder. Riser was barely alive, chunks of him still trying to regenerate. He was going to live, sure, but that was only because I let him. And I hadn’t even tapped into [Boosted Gear] yet.

“Oi! Riser! We’re not done yet! I haven’t had my fun~!”

Rebecca’s sing-song tone made Ravel squeak in surprise, her cheeks a furious pink against the golden curls cascading over her shoulders. I glanced at the girl, finally taking a moment to look at her properly. Her blue eyes were locked onto Rebecca like she’d been caught in some sort of spell. The way she clung to Rebecca’s arm was adorable.

“Beccaaa… do you have to tease her like that?” I muttered under my breath.

“I’m not teasing,” she replied, voice a little too sweet to be honest, which meant it was. “She’s cute. Besides, she’s the one who keeps leaning into me like this.”

“I’m not—!” Ravel protested, but she didn’t move away.

Rebecca giggled. “See?”

Ravel’s lips trembled, but she looked up at me then, and there was a fire in her eyes—not like her brother’s, no. This was something else. Something soft and dangerous and achingly tender.

“I… I know he’s an idiot,” Ravel said, looking back toward Riser’s broken body. “But thank you. For standing up for yourself. For her.”

I blinked. She said it so sincerely. So openly.

“I didn’t do it for your thanks,” I replied, honestly. “But… I’m not upset to hear it.”

Rebecca grinned and leaned in, whispering something into Ravel’s ear. I couldn’t hear what she said, but whatever it was, it made the girl stammer and clutch at her skirt like she didn’t know whether to faint or combust.

Then, casually, Rebecca pulled out a Phoenix Tear—a single glimmering vial filled with that golden elixir Riser’s family hoarded like dragons hoarded treasure. Without hesitation, she walked over and punched the damn thing into his face. Glass shattered. Liquid hissed against his still-burning flesh.

We stepped back from the resulting burst of flames. It was almost theatrical. Typical Phenex bullshit.

I turned my gaze back to the two women beside me. Ravel was staring at Rebecca again, starry-eyed and flushed, while Rebecca just gave her a wink.

“She’s practically smitten with you.” I said.

Rebecca shrugged. “She’s adorable. But she’s not mine. Not yet.”

Ravel squeaked again.

“But…” Rebecca continued, softer this time, “I wouldn’t mind if she became ours.”

My heart twisted. Not with jealousy. No, that emotion had died long ago. It was something else. Something warm.

“I’d welcome her.” I whispered, almost reverently.

And Ravel? She didn’t answer right away. But the way her hand slipped into mine, shy and trembling, said more than words could.

Behind us, Riser finally let out a groan, the Phoenix Tear dragging him back into the world of the living. I didn’t look at him. He wasn’t important anymore.

Rebecca leaned her head against my shoulder, sighing with the contentment of a pyromaniac watching the world burn just enough.

“Wanna go again? I still have another Phoenix Tear~.” she asked playfully.

I smirked.

“Not yet. I want to enjoy this moment. Just a little longer.”

And she didn’t argue.

Because even in the middle of fire and ash and chaos, the three of us had found something warm.

Something real.

And for the first time since I’d been born into this body—hell, maybe even before that—I felt peace.

Even if it wouldn’t last.

Even if the flames came back.

This moment? It was ours.

And I would protect it with everything I had.

{Rebecca's POV}

Dee didn’t take me up on my offer to let her beat Riser’s smug ass again. Said that maybe, just maybe, he’d grow half a brain cell and wise up before I even got a crack at him. That was... optimistic of her. But hey, if Dee says so, then I’ll give the turkey bastard a chance to disappoint me on his own terms.

Cracking my knuckles with a satisfying pop-pop, I pulled out my beloved Desert Eagles from their holsters. Gold glinted under the harsh lighting of the Rating Game dimension. Saya had enchanted them six ways from Sunday, layered with kinetic amplification, mana disruptors, and custom mana converters. Good enough for now. But they weren’t going to cut it forever. I'd need something better soon. Maybe something a little more me. Maybe I'd even forge them myself. [Credits] weren’t running dry just yet, and with how this game was going, I was sure to leave with a hell of a surplus.

"Hey, chicken shit! You done resting yet!?" I called across the field with a vicious grin.

Riser looked like death warmed over—pale, bloody, stumbling, held together more by pride than magic. He was already crawling at Dee’s feet earlier, begging her to stop caving in his ribs like they owed her money. And yet, the second I popped a Phoenix Tear into his face and watched it melt into him, bringing his flesh back to steaming life—

He looked at me like I’d just burned his mansion to the ground and pissed on the ashes. Correction: he looked at me like I’d fucked his entire harem one by one while making eye contact.

"You fucking coward! You think—You think you can just hide behind your Peerage and—"

I shot him in the head. Point-blank. Clean through the skull. The enchanted round left a satisfying hole dead center of his forehead before his regeneration kicked in.

"Yeah, yeah. Save the monologue, dumbass. Let’s get to the part where you lose."

Predictably, he didn’t take being cut off and shot very well. Flames burst around him in a blazing roar, trying to make up for his lack of brain cells with raw heat. I rolled my eyes.

"How original."

He launched a volley of fire spears at me, screaming like a banshee on bath salts. I felt Ravel gasp from the sidelines—sweet thing was always too soft-hearted for this bloodsport—but she didn’t have to worry. My body went up in smoke with a satisfying pop, replaced by a flaming log.

Classic Substitution Jutsu. Oldie but goodie.

Before the flames could fully burn the decoy, I was already behind Riser. One hand up, gun aimed, finger on the trigger.

"Bang."

Another hole bloomed in the back of his skull. This one didn’t kill him either—normal bullet, just enchanted to punch through that smug head of his—but damn if it didn’t feel satisfying.

He turned with another roar, his face twisting into rage, and unleashed a wall of fire.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just shaped water from the ether, forming it into a dense, transparent shield between us. The flames hit, boiled, hissed. Steam burst out in a white cloud. I stood still.

Wasn’t backing down.

"You call those flames, you stupid turkey!? Shit, I’ve seen hotter fire coming off microwaved leftovers! I don't think you could even boil tea with that weak-ass smoke!"

I pulled at the shield, twisted it, and reshaped it—slicing it into sleek, high-pressure spears. Then smaller. Finer. Bullets.

They hovered for a second, glistening and humming with energy.

I grinned.

Then fired.

The water bullets screamed through the air, cutting straight through the wall of flame he’d tried to throw up. The look on his face as they tore into his body was fucking priceless—a mixture of disbelief and pain.

Of course, he started regenerating almost immediately. But it wasn’t about damage.

It was about humiliation.

Devils hated human weapons. Guns especially. Riser being pelted by a shower of high-pressure water bullets and normal human bullets? That had to sting.

He roared again, body glowing, fire rolling off him in waves. And this time, I decided to take it seriously.

Holstering my guns with a dramatic twirl, I raised both arms, palms outward. Magic glyphs began to hum and glow in front of me, water coalescing in massive quantities.

It started off all wobbly and formless—magic wasn’t always elegant in the early stages—but I focused. Pressurized, refined, reshaped. A serpentine figure began to form, twisting and curling in the air like a leviathan made of liquid fury.

A water serpent.

My grin turned feral.

Riser’s eyes widened. I swear he tried to surrender. I could see it in his posture, in the way he staggered back. But his mouth? Riddled with bullets. Couldn’t speak.

Oops.

Before he could recover enough to beg for mercy, I clapped my hands. The serpent lunged forward with a deafening roar of rushing water.

The wave hit him like a freight train.

Riser's body was ripped apart by the force, over and over again, as the pressurized current and magic-enhanced liquid snake kept slamming into him. Bone, sinew, flame—didn’t matter. The water annihilated it all.

He tried to heal. He really did.

But all the bullets I pumped into him earlier? Still there. Still messing with his regen. The holes in his mouth, his throat, his chest—they slowed him down just enough.

Just enough for him to be washed away.

By the time the water settled, he was gone.

A chime echoed across the sky, accompanied by a clear voice: <Riser Phenex has been defeated. The winner of this match is Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas.>

I stood there, dripping wet, clothes clinging to my body in a way that I knew had Dee smirking and Ravel blushing.

I raised my fingers in a peace sign and turned toward the two of them. Dee gave me a grin and a thumbs up, while Ravel…

Ravel looked like she didn’t know whether to swoon or melt. Maybe both.

She ran over to me, golden curls bouncing, her face flushed from either excitement or… something else.

"Rebecca, that was… incredible! I didn’t know you could manipulate water like that! And the substitution! And those bullets—"

I let her gush. It was adorable. Hell, it was kinda flattering.

"What can I say, sweetheart," I said with a half-smirk, voice low and playful, "I aim to impress. Especially when I’ve got such an eager little cheerleader watching."

Ravel’s face turned scarlet, and she ducked her head. She mumbled something about propriety, but her eyes were glued to mine.

She wasn’t mine—not yet—but the spark in her eyes? That was something real. Something soft.

Dee joined us, wrapping an arm casually over my shoulder, tugging me in with a smile.

"Nice work, flame-broiler. You really turned that roast chicken into pulled pork."

"What a weirdly specific analogy." I snorted.

"Shut up, it made sense in my head." she replied, ruffling my hair.

We all laughed, the sound warm and real. The tension of the fight slipped away like mist off water.

Ravel reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. Her fingers lingered a second too long. I caught her hand gently, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.

"Thank you for just letting me beat your brother up." I said, honest and unfiltered.

She swallowed. Her breath caught.

"Always."

She meant it.

And maybe, just maybe, I could see her standing by my side, not as a cheerleader, but as one of mine. One day.

But for now?

She was Ravel. Beautiful, loyal, blushing Ravel. And that was enough.

Dee nudged me playfully. "C’mon, you romantic dork. Let’s go collect your winnings and rub this in that bastard’s face."

I laughed. Loud. Proud.

"Yeah, let’s."

Because today? I didn’t just win.

I owned the stage.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

For the first time since I began this strange and violent new life, I finally wore a dress. Not just any dress—still scandalous, of course, still hugging every curve and cut just high enough to tease—but more formal than the tank top and booty shorts I usually ran around in. This wasn’t a battlefield or a nightclub. This was an engagement party. My engagement party. Rias’s engagement party. Ours.

You’d think there would be time to breathe, to plan, to talk things over. But nope. Less than twenty-four hours after I’d smashed Riser’s pride into the floor and lit his legacy on fire, we were thrown into full celebration mode. Apparently, Venelana and Serana had been practically vibrating with excitement and had already prepared the whole damn thing, just in case. Subtlety wasn’t really in their vocabulary.

Not that I minded. Honestly? I thought it was sweet. Rias and I had already agreed not to rush the wedding itself—she still wanted to finish college, and I wasn’t about to take that from her. But her family, well, except for Lord Gremory… they were over the fucking moon. Especially her mom and sister. And watching their joy? Seeing their smiles light up the estate like the goddamn sun? That did something warm and dangerous to my chest.

As for my own women? They weren’t jealous. Not in the slightest. They didn’t feel left out or overshadowed. If anything, they looked proud. Proud of Rias. Proud of me. We didn’t need rings or paperwork to know what we were to each other. In our eyes—and more importantly, in our souls—we were already bound. Already something eternal. Marriage was a formality, one I’d never deny them, but nothing that could add to the truth already carved into our hearts.

Still, I wanted them to have the wedding experience. The whole, chaotic, over-the-top fantasy ceremony. I was going to give it to them one day, all of them, and it would be glorious. But tonight? Tonight belonged to Rias. And I was going to make damn sure she knew it.

The party was being held at the Gremory Estate, all polished elegance and magical splendor. The kind of place where every hallway seemed to sparkle with ancient power and luxury. I walked beside my lovers, laughing softly at Shizuka’s wide-eyed admiration and Saya’s sarcastic commentary on the gilded décor.

Most of our crew had split off, mingling with familiar faces—Rias’s and Sona’s Peerages mostly—but a few were exploring, meeting new people. Saeko, ever the composed warrior, was chatting with Seekvaira Agares about swordplay and demonic history, while Shizuka had wandered off with Lady Venelana, no doubt charming the older woman with her ditzy sweetness.

That left me by the massive banquet table, swirling a drink that sparkled like crushed rubies, when a familiar voice pulled my attention.

"Congratulations on your victory, big sister."

I turned, my eyes softening the second they landed on Iryuka. My little sister. Younger by blood and birth, but sharp-eyed and cool as ever. I smiled, unable to help myself.

"Iryuka." I greeted, voice gentler than most ever heard from me. I reached out and ruffled her soft hair, and the usually poised girl melted under the touch, her cheeks blooming with color. It made me chuckle. Her attempts to act so adult were cute as hell.

"It’s nice to see you again. How’ve you been?"

She straightened up with practiced grace, chin high. "I’ve improved in controlling my Demonic Power, big sister. But I still prefer your teaching. The tutors Mother and Father hired are... dull. And they don’t understand me."

She pouted just slightly, enough for the childish frustration to peek through. I grinned.

"If you ever want to visit me in the Human World, just call our older brother, alright? My door’s always open to you."

I didn’t mention our parents. No need to poison the air with that shit. They’d made it clear where they stood. But Iryuka? She was her own person. And my sister. Blood or not, that mattered to me.

Her eyes lit up. "Really?! Then please expect me soon!"

I laughed and pulled her into a hug, one arm wrapping around her slender frame. She buried her face into my shoulder for a second, just a second, before pulling away with a polite cough and returning to her calm facade.

We spoke for a little while longer, catching up on her studies, her hobbies, how she’d picked up fencing because she wanted to be strong like me. I may or may not have teared up at that, but I’ll deny it under torture.

Eventually, duty called her back to our parents’ side, and she excused herself with a bow and one last smile. I watched her go, heart full, until a presence at my side turned my head.

Venelana.

"Lady Venelana." I said, inclining my head in respect. It wasn’t a lie. She deserved it.

She laughed, voice rich and warm, the kind of laugh that could lull a kingdom to sleep.

"Oh, none of that now, dear. You’re my daughter-in-law. Just call me Mother."

My gaze flicked over her, slow and deliberate. She was elegance incarnate. Refined and powerful and just the right kind of dangerous. Her dress clung to curves that defied age, and the heat in her eyes was not motherly in the slightest.

I smirked.

"If you insist… Mommy~."

A beat passed. Then a flush spread across her cheeks, delicate and utterly devastating. I licked my lips, my grin turning wicked.

Yeah, she definitely didn’t mind the attention.

"Kuhum." She cleared her throat, the motion making her generous chest shift in fascinating ways. "Well. I only wanted to congratulate you on your victory, dear. And… to thank you."

I tilted my head. "For?"

Her expression softened. "For saving my daughter. She didn’t deserve what she went through. I knew what Riser was, and still I allowed it. For politics. For appearances."

She shook her head, regret darkening her voice. "If you hadn’t come along, she would’ve torn herself apart trying to escape that fate. You gave her the freedom she should’ve had from the start. You gave her a choice. And you gave her love. For that, you will always have my gratitude."

I felt my grin falter. Not out of discomfort, but out of something deeper. Something real. I reached out, gently brushing my fingers against hers. No flirtation. Just warmth.

"You’re welcome." I murmured, and it was the truth. Every word. I’d tear the world apart for Rias. No apologies. No regrets.

Venelana smiled back at me, a little wistful. We spoke for a while longer—about Rias, about the party, about me, even. She asked me questions no one else had dared to ask, and I answered honestly, if carefully. The truth has a shape, and I danced around the edges of it like a skilled knife-thrower. I never lied. I couldn’t. But I let the truth bend like firelight, soft and inviting.

By the time we parted, her eyes lingered a second too long on mine, and I felt a flicker of something unspoken pass between us. Not yet. But maybe.

The rest of the evening was a blur of laughter, toasts, and stories. Rias glowed, radiant and fiery, and when we finally had a moment to ourselves, I pulled her close and whispered against her ear.

"You’re mine. And I’m yours."

Her smile was blinding. "Always."

And in that moment, with music in the air and the stars above the estate glittering like diamonds, I believed it. With all my heart.

{Rias's POV}{18+}

As I stared at myself in the mirror, I took a long, shaky breath. My heart thundered in my chest, anticipation thrumming through every inch of my body. The soft glow of the vanity lights cast golden halos along my skin, making the sheer lace of my lingerie shimmer. Deep crimson and intricately designed, it hugged every curve, emphasizing the swell of my breasts and the way the matching panties struggled to contain my arousal. I looked good. I looked ready. And I was.

Rebecca and I were finally engaged. Engaged. The word still felt like a dream, too perfect, too wonderful. She had claimed my heart, soul, and every moaning whisper in between. And now, I could finally take this step with her.

I brushed my hair back, lips parted, cheeks flushed, a tremble in my fingers betraying the calm I tried to wear.

"Hey, Rias? Yuriko said—"

The door creaked open, and Rebecca stepped in. Mid-sentence, she froze.

I turned slowly, the sway of my hips intentional. Her eyes widened, and her voice died out completely.

She drank in the sight of me like a woman starved, and fuck, it made me feel so powerful. Heat surged between my thighs just from the way her pupils dilated.

"Da-darling..." I murmured, tasting the pet name for the first time with her.

Her smile bloomed—feral and reverent, like she was standing before something holy. "Hello, beloved~." she purred, voice thick with hunger and adoration. "I see you’ve prepared a surprise for me~?"

That voice. That fucking voice. Sinful, sultry, and laced with intent. It hit me like a lightning strike, making my knees weak and my cock throb with need.

I nodded, biting my lip. "Do you like it?"

Rebecca stepped further in, letting her mesh jacket fall from her shoulders with deliberate slowness. Her cropped top clung to her like sin itself, exposing her toned stomach, the curve of her breasts, and the inked markings that trailed down her stomach. Every inch of her was a walking temptation, and as she removed each piece of clothing, my breath caught in my throat.

"Rebecca, darling..." I whispered again, trembling with emotion and lust.

"Yes, my love~?" Her voice was velvet, and the way she said those words made me shiver.

"I want you. I want you so, so badly~."

Her smirk turned into something softer, more intense. "Mmm~. I could tell. Fuck, baby, I can practically taste it."

And then she was on me.

She closed the distance with that feline grace of hers, fingers brushing along my jaw as she leaned in. I was barely breathing, heart pounding, when her lips finally found mine.

And Satans—every part of me came alive.

The kiss was fire. Possessive, tender, desperate, all at once. Her lips tasted of promise and worship, and I moaned into her mouth as her hands roamed, relearning my body. My neck. My shoulders. The curve of my breasts beneath the lace.

She pulled back just enough to murmur against my skin, "I believe you've prepared yourself for me, haven't you, my sweet~?"

I nodded, breath hitching.

Her grin was feral again as she leaned down, pressing kisses along the tops of my breasts, trailing lower until she reached the clasp of my bra. With a playful growl, she bit it open.

The lace fell away, and cool air kissed my now bare chest.

She didn’t waste a second. Her tongue traced the sensitive underside of one breast while her hand kneaded the other, fingers teasing the hardened nipple.

I cried out, arching into her, tangling my fingers in her hair.

"Rebecca," I gasped. "Please..."

She chuckled, a deep, knowing sound. "Tell me what you want, beloved."

"I want you inside me," I breathed. "Now. Please. I need you."

"You are so fucking perfect." she whispered, voice cracking just slightly with emotion.

She pulled back again, eyes dropping to my panties—wet, clinging, barely concealing the evidence of my arousal. My cock throbbed, my pussy ached, and I swore my heart might explode from anticipation.

"Are you ready, my love~?" Her tone was gentle this time. Not teasing. Just... reverent.

I nodded.

She knelt between my thighs, pulling the panties aside. Her lips brushed my inner thigh, then ghosted over the base of my cock, trailing further until her tongue danced around the slick folds of my pussy. I gasped, nearly sobbing from the sensation.

Then I felt her. The warm, heavy weight of her cock resting against mine for just a heartbeat—before the tip pressed against my entrance.

She entered me slowly, achingly slow, inch by inch.

My breath hitched as she reached the barrier of my hymen.

She paused, looking up at me.

I nodded again. "I want all of you."

Rebecca whispered, "Then you shall have me, beloved."

With a single, fluid motion, she broke through. Pain lanced through me—but it was fleeting, fading almost instantly under the wash of pleasure that followed.

She filled me. Satans, she filled me so completely.

My body trembled as she began to move, gently at first, pulling back until only her tip remained inside, before thrusting in once more. My back arched off the bed as I wailed, lost in the rhythm, the connection.

She fucked me like I was sacred.

Every movement was measured, deliberate. Like worship. Like ritual.

Hours passed, and she never stopped. We kissed and touched and whispered through every moment. She made love to me slowly, deeply, over and over again, filling me until I felt drunk with her.

I lost track of time. There was only Rebecca. Her eyes. Her hands. Her voice, murmuring praises and promises.

"You are mine, Rias. Every inch, every sound you make—it all belongs to me."

"Yes," I gasped. "All yours. Always yours."

Her hands were everywhere. Tangling in my hair. Gripping my hips. Stroking my cock in time with her thrusts.

"You're so beautiful like this," she whispered. "So fucking perfect."

My climax hit me like a tidal wave. I screamed her name, my whole body shaking as my pussy clenched around her, milking her, begging her.

She followed moments later, spilling inside me with a shuddering groan.

Even then, she didn't stop. She kissed me, slow and deep, pressing her forehead against mine.

"Again." I whispered.

Rebecca chuckled. "Anything for you, beloved."

We made love again and again until the sun began to rise.

Eventually, our bodies gave out, limbs tangled beneath the silk sheets. My head rested on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

She stroked my hair, one hand curled protectively around my waist.

"I love you, Rebecca." I said, voice slurred with exhaustion.

She kissed my forehead. "I love you too, Rias. More than anything."

As sleep claimed me, I smiled.

I was hers. Entirely, irrevocably hers.

{Rebecca's POV}

After making the most toe-curling, soul-melting, brain-rotting love with Rias, I finally let her sleep. She was utterly wrecked—limbs tangled with mine, her chest slowly rising and falling as she dozed in that post-orgasmic glow. Her red hair was fanned out like a halo on the pillow, strands sticking to the sheen of sweat glistening on her flushed skin. My Rias. My devilish, powerful, mind-numbingly beautiful Rias.

I couldn't help myself. Even as she drifted into sleep, I trailed soft, lazy kisses along her slick, trembling body—down her collarbone, along the swell of her breasts, across her stomach. She moaned, even in sleep, and her thighs twitched as I nuzzled into her hip. That scent of sex, sweat, and lavender clung to her like incense, and I wanted to bottle it and carry it with me for the rest of my life.

Gods, I loved her. And that wasn’t some sugary sweet phrase—I meant every single syllable. I loved her with the kind of ferocity that cracked ribs and shook stars. She was mine, not as property, not as a possession—but as a soul entangled with mine, tight as a noose, sweet as sin. And I was hers. In every way.

Still, as much as I wanted to spend the whole night just worshipping her, I had things to do. There’s always something to do when you’ve got a [Waifu Catalog] and a growing harem of gorgeous, deadly lovers to care for. So, one arm curled around Rias, fingers tangled in her sweat-damp hair, I flicked open the Catalog. Its glow bathed our naked forms in soft light, casting long shadows on the rumpled sheets.

I’d stacked up a mountain of [Credits] recently. Those [Additional Objectives] were no joke—tedious, but satansdamned worth it. So I decided it was time to put those Credits to good use.

First up? [Science Talent] and [Engineering Talent]. If I was going to make my own guns—real ones, ones that didn’t just go bang but went BOOM and sent archangels screaming—I needed the tools to do it right. Sure, magic could do some truly wild shit, but there’s just something primal about guns. The bark of gunfire, the weight in your hands, the smell of powder—it gets in your blood. Fuck yeah, I wanted to go full Rambo. Dual-wielding enchanted gatling guns, mowing down a fucker who dared touch what was mine? Yes, please. Turn a motherfucker into swiss-fucking-cheese and smile while doing it.

Of course, I wasn’t gonna keep those [Talents] to myself. I bought [Talent Sharing] for [Land, Communication, and Blessed Talent]. My girls deserved the best. If I was learning and growing, they were coming with me. Always. I didn’t do gatekeeping. I wasn’t about to hog power like some crusty old mage jerking off to his own spellbook. The stronger they were, the safer they’d be, and that safety… that peace of mind? Worth every goddamn Credit.

Next came a pair of juicy little upgrades from my [Heritage]: [Threefold Conqueror] and [Intoxicating Presence].

The former? Made it so that whenever I claimed someone—body, heart, soul—they got stronger. Just from being mine. It was beautiful, really. A tangible reminder that love, lust, obsession—they were strengths. Weapons. Blessings. I wanted my girls to glow with the power of it.

And [Intoxicating Presence]? Oh, honey. That one was pure filth. It made me even more desirable—more addictive. Did I need the help? Not really. Did I want it? Fuck yes. Because I am a greedy, lust-hungry bitch with a heart full of fire and a tongue that never quite knows when to quit. I see a woman who stirs something in me, and I will chase her. I will woo her, ravish her, make her sob and scream and fall apart on my cock, then hold her close and kiss the tears from her lashes like she’s the most precious thing in the multiverse. Because to me? She is.

"Mmm… still awake, love?" Rias murmured, her voice a sleepy purr as her fingers lazily skimmed over my chest.

"Couldn’t sleep. Too many thoughts… and you’re too fucking perfect to look away from." I murmured back, nuzzling into her neck.

She chuckled, low and sultry. "Flatterer."

"Only the truth. Can’t lie, remember?" I grinned, brushing a kiss beneath her ear. The truth had its weight, and my words danced along its razor’s edge. That was the art of it.

Rias turned slightly, wrapping her arms around me and pressing our bodies together again. "Tell me what you bought this time."

"Mmm. [Science Talent], [Engineering Talent]—gonna build us some magical guns that’ll make even the Seraphs shit themselves. Got [Talent Sharing] for more perks, and picked up [Threefold Conqueror] and [Intoxicating Presence]. Because I’m a thirsty slut who wants her girls stronger and addicted to me."

Her eyes sparkled, amused and aroused. "So thoughtful. You’re our very own sexy little arms dealer."

"Damn right. I’ll build you a sniper rifle that can snipe through dimensions."

"You’re turning me on."

"I never stopped."

She laughed and pulled me into a kiss—hot, deep, wet. I melted into it. Our tongues tangled, her nails raked lightly across my back, and I swore I could drown in her taste.

"You’re unbelievable." she breathed when we broke apart.

"And all yours." I whispered, kissing her again.

We kissed lazily for a while longer, basking in that sweet, sticky afterglow. She was so damn soft beneath me, so warm, so real. Eventually, she shifted, sighing contentedly as her eyes drifted shut again.

I exhaled, glancing at the Catalog once more. Still had [248 Credits] left. I hovered over a few other options—some [Lures], some new [Talents]—but in the end, I left it alone. For now. No need to splurge all at once. Credits flowed easily when you had a Fae backing you. Not that anyone knew that.

I glanced down at Rias, my heart squeezing in my chest. She looked so peaceful. So safe. I would kill to keep her that way. Hell, I already had.

Soon, I’d need to visit the rest of the girls. Akeno was already giving me those eyes. Koneko was warming up, slowly but surely. Xenovia and Irina? Those two were practically begging for a reason to fall into bed. Asia was just too damn sweet—I’d have to take my time there. Carefully. Gently. With love.

And Rias? She had my heart, in ways I’d never admit aloud.

But I’d show it. Every day.

With every touch, every kiss, every carefully-placed upgrade. Every whispered promise I couldn’t break.

Yeah. They were mine. And I was going to make them gods-damned happy.

I closed the Catalog and let the light fade away. Wrapped my arms tighter around Rias. Kissed her temple.

Time to sleep.

Morning would come fast, and with it, new opportunities.

New lovers.

New conquests.

But tonight? Tonight was just for her.

Just for us.

Chapter Text

{Asia's POV}

A month had passed since I'd first arrived in Japan, and if I’m being honest, things had been strangely calm. Almost too calm, like the kind of peace that lingers just before a storm. Still, I wasn’t about to complain. After everything that had happened before, a little peace felt like a blessing. I found myself working at a quaint little café nestled near the heart of town—a charming place filled with soft music, delicious smells, and a warmth that seeped into your bones the moment you stepped inside.

I genuinely enjoyed my work there. Seeing the smiles on customers’ faces when they bit into something I’d helped make gave me a fluttery, happy feeling in my chest. I had never expected to fall in love with baking, of all things, but now? I couldn’t imagine not doing it. There was something so comforting about mixing flour and sugar, kneading dough, watching something rise and brown in the oven like it was transforming. And all of it—every cupcake, every pastry, every warm loaf—I owed to Miss Yuriko.

She was the one who’d taken the time to teach me. Patient, wise, and ever so graceful in that way that made you feel both small and safe all at once. She never once got frustrated when I made mistakes. Instead, she offered gentle corrections, guiding my hands and praising even the smallest progress. Her compliments felt real, never hollow or overdone. Her words had weight. When she said I did well, I believed it. It made me want to do better, to work harder.

Every day at the café became something I looked forward to, not just because of the work, but because it brought me closer to everyone in the manor. What started as a job became something more—a thread tying me to this odd, chaotic, but strangely warm family I had found myself part of.

Miss Mittelt, Raynare, and Kalawarner were... complicated. They weren’t unkind, not really, but there was something sharp beneath their smiles, a lingering bitterness in their words. Still, they never directed that sharpness at me. In fact, they seemed oddly fond of pulling me into the strangest conversations. From the hypocrisy of divine commandments to the very nature of good and evil, they talked about things I’d never dared think before.

I remember one afternoon, sitting on the couch as Raynare gestured wildly about how foolish mortals were to believe in a God who preached love and turned His back when it mattered. I should’ve felt offended, I suppose. And in a way, I was. My faith wavered, trembling under the weight of what they said. Their words were like rocks tossed into the still water of my beliefs, causing ripples that reached deep.

And yet, I remained. Not stubbornly, not blindly—but because I wanted to understand. My faith didn’t shatter; it bent. I began to see things differently. Maybe God wasn’t perfect. Maybe He never was. But belief wasn’t about perfection. It was about hope. About finding light even in shadows.

Then there were Miss Rei, Miss Saya, and Miss Saeko—each of them closer to me in age, and each one as dazzlingly different as the stars in the night sky. They became my guides when Miss Rebecca finally allowed me to enroll in Kuoh Academy. Oh, how nervous I was on my first day! The school was so big, the uniforms felt strange against my skin, and the students all seemed to know exactly what they were doing.

But Rei was always cheerful, her laughter infectious and full of life. Saya, brilliant and quick-witted, had this way of explaining things that made me feel smart even when I didn’t understand a thing. Saeko... Saeko had this calm, steady presence. She didn’t talk much unless she had something important to say, but when she did, it mattered. Being with them made everything easier. They helped me blend in, taught me how to navigate the complex web of school life, and made me feel like I belonged.

I could never forget the others either—Miss Shizuka, Rika, and Kyoko. They were older, more mature, and they carried themselves with a quiet strength that I admired deeply. Shizuka was always smiling, even if she did seem a bit absent-minded sometimes. But there was something beneath that ditziness. A kind of quiet understanding that made her feel almost otherworldly at times. Rika had this dry humor that always caught me off guard, and Kyoko—stern, fiery Kyoko—reminded me a bit of Miss Yuriko. She never sugar-coated anything, but she always made sure I understood.

Sometimes, I’d sit with them in the lounge after work or school, and we’d just... talk. About anything. About everything. I asked too many questions, and they always answered. The T.V. was still a mystery to me—so many buttons, so many options! Sometimes I’d stare at it like it was a puzzle I couldn’t solve. But with their help, I was getting better. I even managed to record a program once, though I didn’t really understand how I did it.

And then there was Little Alice.

She was... precious. That’s the only word that fits. So small, so curious, and with eyes that seemed to drink in the world like it was a story she couldn’t stop reading. She might’ve been a Devil, but to me, she felt like an Angel. I took it upon myself to teach her the little things I knew. We’d read books together, bake simple sweets, and sometimes just sit in the sun, talking about silly things. She made me feel needed. Like I had something worth offering.

And finally, there was their leader.

Miss Rebecca.

I’ll admit, when I first met her, I was unsure. Her skin was unlike anything I’d seen before—dusky, rich, and marked with tattoos that pulsed faintly with something I couldn’t name. Her eyes were sharp, full of fire, and her smile was wicked, like she knew secrets no one else did. And maybe she did. But underneath all of that... she was kind. In her own way.

She was the one who made sure I had a place here. She was the one who welcomed me into her home, who gave me the chance to study, to work, to live. I never once felt like a burden with her, never like I was just someone they were taking pity on. No, she treated me with the same rough kindness she showed the others. She didn’t coddle, but she cared.

There was this one night—I can’t forget it. I’d had a nightmare. Something about the past, about the Church, about everything I’d lost. I woke up trembling, barely able to breathe. And there she was, sitting at the foot of my bed with a cigarette between her lips and a bottle in her hand. She didn’t say anything at first. Just passed me a glass of water and let me calm down. Then she spoke.

“You’re not broken, Asia. Just bent in places. Like all of us.”

That stayed with me. Still does.

So yes, I suppose things had been peaceful. Not in the traditional sense, not like the calm of a quiet countryside. But peaceful in the way a battlefield feels once the war is over and the dust has settled. This place, this manor, this strange family of women who were all more than they seemed... it had become my home. And though I still prayed every night, my prayers were different now.

I didn’t ask for salvation anymore.

I gave thanks for finding my place.

And I meant every word.

{Rebecca's POV}

A whole month had passed in relative peace, and we took full fucking advantage of it. Every day was a dance between discipline and decadence, training hard enough to break the very ground beneath us and then celebrating each new strength with nights of writhing, moaning bliss. I won’t pretend we weren’t strong to begin with—Satans, we were already damn near forces of nature—but now? Now, we were on the edge of something monstrous. We hadn’t broken through our current [Tiers] just yet, but we’d grown exponentially. You give us a bit more time, and with our [Talents]? We’ll be razing whole dimensions, leaving the ashes behind with smug little grins.

Training wasn’t the only thing we did, obviously. Between the hours of sweat and blood, there were nights soaked in sex and sin. I’d like to think we struck a balance. And with my win in that little unofficial Rating Game—where I wiped the fucking floor, by the way—and my engagement to Rias now official, I was granted the title of Baroness. Fancy, huh? Came with its own chunk of Kuoh Town, complete with a title, land ownership, and the honor (or hassle) of becoming Kuoh’s third Overseer. Took a few tense negotiations with the Yokai Faction to make it all official, but eventually they caved. Must’ve been my charming tits.

Since then, I’d gotten a hell of a lot closer with Rias’s Peerage, not to mention Sona and her crew. Honestly? The amount of sexual tension between me and Akeno was enough to start a fire. I could feel the heat rolling off her every time we were in the same room, and somehow, somehow, the bitch hasn’t jumped me yet. She’s either the most disciplined woman I’ve ever met, or she’s edging herself on purpose because she gets off on the denial. Fucking kinky, sado-masochistic, delicious bitch. When that dam breaks, I’m going to fuck her so hard she forgets her own name.

Now, being a Baroness wasn’t all ceremonial bows and shiny paperwork. Sure, I had responsibilities beyond being Overseer—mostly just making reports to the Satans and keeping Kuoh safe, which I was already doing anyway. Easy shit. My businesses were thriving too. My café was the new hotspot in town—girls in short skirts, sweet drinks, and even sweeter flirtations. Meanwhile, the tattoo parlor had become a little underground sensation. Seemed like everyone wanted a piece of my ink these days. The number of customers climbing each week was honestly kinda hot.

And speaking of progress, guess who finally mastered a functional Shadow Clone? That’s right. Yours truly. One working clone may not sound like much, but that one clone meant a second set of experiences—fighting, fucking, flirting—it all came back to me once it popped. Training efficiency? Doubled. Orgasms? Tripled. And the best part? While I was out grinding Jutsu and pushing my body past its limits, my clone was back home making passionate, depraved love to my women. When it popped, I got all the memories. All the sensation. And yes, sometimes I swapped places. Let the clone train while I took over the fucking. Equal parts efficiency and indulgence.

And of course, I had to test it on myself. Because naturally, once I figured out the logistics, I fucked myself. Thoroughly. By the Satans, it gave me a whole new perspective on why my women screamed like that. I’ve decided to gatekeep [Sticky Fingers] to myself. A girl’s gotta have her edge, after all.

My [Sea Serpent of the End] had also gotten a juicy little upgrade. Thanks to [Template Stacking I: Serafall Leviathan], I’d gained even better control and precision. I could manifest ice with my constructs now—serpents that slithered and coiled with predatory grace, their glacial forms cutting through the air like blades. There was one time I unleashed three towering ice serpents mid-training, laughing like a fucking maniac the whole time. Anyone else would’ve run screaming. My women? They just got wet. One thing led to another, and well… another orgy.

My arsenal of Jutsu was growing nicely, too. I still hadn’t unlocked any Bloodline Abilities—yet—but I was already a walking war crime. Fire, water, lightning, earth—you name it, I had something for it, and I was refining it all day by day. My elemental control was coming dangerously close to flirting with mastery.

Outside of all that chaos, I took some time to properly bond with my in-laws. Well… excluding Lord Gremory. That pompous prick could go suck a hydra’s dick. Venelana, though? Satans, that woman was all kinds of sinful wrapped up in a sultry brunette MILF package. She visited regularly, and I made damn sure she left satisfied—culinarily and conversationally… for now. I had plans. Trashy NTR might not be my thing, but Venelana? She’s the exception. I’m getting that MILF. End of story.

Serena turned out to be surprisingly chill. I’d expected more drama from the whole siscon thing, but she was genuinely kind. That didn’t mean I wasn’t seducing her, of course. I fully intend to collect the set. That includes Grayfia, too. That woman has the emotional range of a glacier, but she blushes every time I suggest a threesome. That little twitch in her lips, the way she stiffens just slightly when I whisper filth in her ear? She wants it. She just won’t admit it yet. I’ll make her melt.

My sister stopped by every so often, and while she wasn’t living with me yet, it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Our "parents" were the issue—tight-assed, boring bastards, trying to keep her on a leash. I’d break that chain soon enough. She belonged with us, with me, where she could be safe and smothered in love.

Ravel was officially my third [Pawn] now, following our contract after the Rating Game. I’d been spoiling her, doting on her, making her feel like the queen she was meant to be. I hadn’t officially brought her into my harem just yet, but it was only a matter of time. She was already so deeply tangled in our lives that it was inevitable.

So yeah, the month was fucking productive. Growth in strength, business, politics, relationships… and orgasms. All of it moving upward. I’d almost started to believe that this peace could last a little longer, that maybe we’d carved ourselves a nice little slice of heaven here.

But of course, that was wishful thinking.

Reality has a way of throwing bricks through the windows of contentment. Case in point? The letter that arrived earlier today, sealed with the insignia of the Church. Three members were being sent to Kuoh. Three agents, here. And while I didn’t lie when I said I was ready for what’s to come, I sure as hell knew that shit was about to hit the fan in the most dramatic, delightful way possible.

And Satans, I could already feel the tension in the air thickening, choking, sweet. The kind of tension that made your skin tingle and your thighs press together. All the women around me had that glint in their eyes again—hungry, wicked, desperate. There would be blood. And there would be fucking.

One way or another, things were about to get really, really fun.

{???'s POV}

Trouble was brewing on the horizon. It wasn't just a feeling anymore; it was tangible, thick in the air like the scent of blood before a storm. Our people were beginning to stray in alarming numbers, abandoning their faith, their purpose, their oaths. I tried not to let it show, but deep down, I was starting to doubt. Not in our cause, never in our mission—but in Lord Michael himself.

The Peace Treaty. That's what he had poured himself into. A deal with the Devils and Fallen Angels. I understood it in theory—the need for peace, the desire to prevent further bloodshed—but his approach? His tactics? They left too much to be desired. Especially when the root of the problem, the very rot eating away at our core, was being ignored.

It wasn’t the Devils, nor the Fallen that had caused our people to stray. It was us. Humans. Or more specifically, the corrupted men who wore our robes, stood at our pulpits, and twisted the holy word for personal gain. I never wanted to believe the rumors when I first heard them. But time... time and exposure, and what I’ve seen firsthand, they change you. They remove the veil of innocence, even from a warrior of the Church.

And I’ve familiarized myself with the modern world’s means of communication, the so-called "memes." I've seen the jokes, the biting satire, the way they mock priests for sins too vile to speak openly. They're not exaggerations. Not really. They're barely even caricatures. What they mock, what they expose, it's disturbingly real. It was never a matter of slander, but of uncomfortable truth wrapped in humor.

We’re rotting from the inside, and yet Lord Michael refuses to act with the swiftness and severity required. I understand the fear—a purge of corrupted clergy could spark rebellion, a revolt among those still loyal to the institution rather than the faith. But this rot... it festers. The longer it's allowed to remain, the deeper it burrows. And eventually, the entire body will decay. I don’t understand why he will not uproot it.

God, in all His mercy and wisdom, had no issue flooding the earth when He saw fit. Kindness and righteousness are not mutually exclusive with wrath and justice. There must be balance. And Lord Michael... he tries so hard to emulate his Father's compassion, but he's forgotten that even the Almighty knew when enough was enough.

Still, I follow. It is not my place to rise against Heaven’s command. I serve His will, even when I cannot comprehend it. I do not defy Lord Michael, nor do I obstruct his vision for peace. But that doesn't mean I must close my eyes to the truth, nor silence those who seek to expose it.

So when investigators come—and they always do—I let them. I open the gates. I grant them entry. What they find within these walls, let it speak for itself. It is not rebellion. It is transparency.

For now, we have a mission, one that demands our full focus. Several Excalibur fragments were stolen—not misplaced, not misused—stolen. And if the whispers are true, they were taken with the assistance of those very same corrupted priests. How ironic that their greed would bring ruin not only upon themselves but upon the world.

Lord Michael, to his credit, allowed us to punish those involved. And from that punishment, we unearthed the true threat: an attempt to reignite the Great War. Madness. Absolute fucking madness. As much as I might loathe the Devils and detest the Fallen Angels, I’m not blind. I’ve seen what war does. I’ve buried too many under its weight.

The plan they conceived was as cruel as it was cunning. A triple assassination. Not just one of the Satan's sisters, but three. Three young women, beloved by their powerful siblings, set to be murdered in cold blood. The intent was clear: provoke outrage, unleash chaos, and force a return to open conflict.

They knew how much the Satans loved their sisters. That bond, that affection, is a rare thing among Devils. It’s something I have learned not to mock, nor envy. Family is sacred, no matter the race. To tear it asunder is unforgivable.

We were dispatched to Kuoh Town to prevent this atrocity. Not to aid the Devils. Not to embrace the Fallen. But to stop the war before it could begin. Because innocent lives—far too many—would be lost otherwise.

Among us is my protégé. Young. Fiery. Loyal. Perhaps too loyal. Her mouth tends to run before her mind catches up, and while I admire her fervor, she lacks subtlety. She speaks of Devils with venom, but her hatred is not her own. It was fed to her, line by line, verse by verse. Indoctrination masquerading as truth.

She will learn. Or she will burn. This mission may be the crucible that decides which.

I’ve seen Rebecca—the one who now stands among us—and she’s a peculiar one. Something about her... it's unsettling. Not in the way of darkness, not like a Devil or a Fallen, but in a way that makes your skin prick and your instincts hum. She doesn’t lie. At all. Everything she says has that strange ring to it—a kind of absolute clarity that makes you realize how rarely we speak with honest tongues.

I don’t know what she is, or what brought her here, but she’s dangerous. Not because she lifts a gun faster than most of us can blink, though she does. Not because she has power, though she clearly does. But because she speaks with that kind of unfiltered truth that peels back your armor.

And yet... I trust her. Not fully, not without reservation, but more than most. She doesn’t posture. She doesn’t pretend. And for someone walking into the heart of a potential war zone, that matters.

Kuoh Town looks peaceful from a distance. Like a painting of normalcy. But I know better. It sits at the crossroads of power, of factions, of ancient grudges barely contained. The balance here is delicate, and one wrong move could bring the entire thing crashing down.

We are here to prevent that.

The Devils have already begun their investigations. Rias Gremory, the sister of one of the Satans, holds territory here. She is young, untested, but not a fool. She’s observant, and has help. I’ve seen her kind before—raised in privilege, taught to play the long game.

I only hope she’s prepared. Because if she fails, we all pay the price.

We walk into this not as saviors, nor as allies, but as interveners. If it comes to bloodshed, we will act. If the assassins strike, we will strike back. But our true goal is to stop this before a single blade is drawn.

Still, I cannot help but feel the tension building. My instincts scream that this is only the beginning, that deeper plots twist beneath the surface. That the Peace Treaty is merely the first of many dominos to fall.

I pray I’m wrong.

But I’ve never been the praying type.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

I lounged across the length of the velvet-backed chaise, legs crossed and lips curled into a slow, wolfish grin. Across from me, Sona sat with a posture stiff enough to snap steel. Her fingers hovered indecisively over the chessboard, the tiniest furrow in her brow betraying the internal storm she desperately tried to mask behind those stoic, intelligent eyes. I could see it clearly—the battle waging not just on the board, but in her mind. Every muscle in her jaw was locked, her blush threatening to creep past her collar.

I'd challenged her to chess multiple times already, and never—not once—had I ever managed to win. Not until tonight. I'd been decent at chess before, sure, but nothing spectacular. Enough to not embarrass myself. But with [Science and Administrative Talent] tied into my roster, I grew sharper, faster. Every mistake became a lesson, and every lesson another weapon to wield. Now? Sona was cornered. Utterly and beautifully cornered.

And fuck, did she know it.

This wasn't just a game. It never was. Not with her. Not with me. I knew the condition she’d set—the rule whispered among the more curious devils who dared to wonder who could ever claim the hand of Sona Shitori. A victory in chess. A single, clean, undeniable win. I knew that. And she knew that I knew. The weight of that knowledge turned every move into a slow dance toward inevitability. It colored her breath, shallow and fast, and tinged every glance with something equal parts desperate and hungry.

I didn't rush. I let the silence hang, rich and indulgent, watching her squirm with a predator’s patience. Her lower lip trembled as she stared down at the board. No move would save her. No gambit left. Not even a damn draw.

Sona let out the faintest gasp as realization dawned. Her fingers reached toward her King, hesitating for a heartbeat, before finally—delicately—she tipped it over.

“I surrender, Rebecca.”

That voice. Breathless. Soft. Laced with defeat, pride, and the barest thread of something far more primal.

A shiver danced down my spine, sweet as sin. I leaned forward, extending my hand, watching her carefully as she reached to accept it. Her grip was firm, but I didn’t let go.

Instead, I tugged her in—just enough so her ear met my lips.

“Be sure to expect a grand engagement party, alright~? I’ll make sure everybody knows that you are mine~.”

Her entire body jolted, a barely restrained tremble betraying the heat boiling beneath her surface. Her breath hitched, chest rising sharply against the tightness of her uniform. My words weren’t a lie. They never were. I couldn’t lie, not even if I wanted to—but with a little twist, a little poetry, truth became a blade that cut all the same.

The girls behind her whooped. Her Peerage—loyal, watchful, and very, very aware of the tension between their King and me. Ruruko practically squealed. Momo covered her mouth, wide-eyed. And Saji? Poor bastard was glaring daggers at me, his fists clenched so tight I could hear the leather of his gloves creaking.

I shot him a sharp grin. The kind that said, "She’s already mine, and you know it."

Sona tried to recover, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt as she sat straighter, but I didn’t miss the way her thighs clenched. The way her legs refused to uncross. Oh, she was trying so hard to remain composed, to cling to that dignified image she always carried like armor. But I'd seen through it. She wasn’t just flustered—she was burning.

And satans, it was beautiful.

The room was thick with it now. That heat. That tension. I walked a slow circle behind her, trailing my fingers along the back of her chair as I spoke.

“You played well, Sona. Truly.”

She flinched at the tone. I made sure it dripped with praise and promise. My voice was low, almost reverent.

“You always do. Brilliant. Calculated. Relentless. But tonight... well, tonight, I suppose I just wanted it more.”

I paused, letting the words settle. Then I leaned in close, just behind her neck, breath brushing against her skin.

“And maybe... I wanted you more, too.”

Her breath caught again, and I smiled. Honest. Always honest. My hands brushed her shoulders, a feather-light touch that sent another ripple through her carefully composed mask. I wasn’t groping or grabbing—not yet. No, this was seduction in its finest form. A whisper. A promise. An inevitability.

I’d made sure, over the past month, that Sona never once forgot I was watching. Wanting. I'd taken every opportunity to flirt—just enough to make her question how serious I was, how deep it ran. I'd brushed her fingers when handing her documents, allowed my gaze to linger a few seconds too long when she walked past in her tight Kuoh Academy jacket. And when doubt shadowed her face—when she looked at herself and saw only a small, petite body beneath layers of pressure and responsibility—I made damn sure she saw what I saw instead.

“You’re exquisite, Sona,” I had told her once, pressing a finger under her chin to meet her eyes. “Your strength isn’t just in your mind. It’s in every line of your body. In every heartbeat you try to hide. And I want every bit of it.”

Those weren’t lines. They weren’t tricks. I couldn’t lie, and I didn’t need to.

Her Peerage noticed. Hell, they’d been making bets about when she’d crack. Tsubaki was the worst, smirking whenever I entered the room like she already knew the end of the story. Reya? She blushed just watching us talk. And Saji—poor, jealous Saji—his soul practically howled with frustration every time I leaned too close or spoke too gently.

Let him. Sona wasn’t his. She never was.

She was mine.

And not just her. Her Queen. Her Rooks. Her Bishops. Her Pawns.

Every last one of them.

But tonight? Tonight was Sona’s night.

I circled back in front of her, catching her eyes again. She still hadn’t said a word, but her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, and her pupils dilated. She was barely holding on, trying to keep her dignity intact in front of her subordinates.

I knelt in front of her, eyes level with hers.

“You okay?” I asked softly, voice laden with amusement and something more tender. “Still with me, Vice President?”

“I... I am,” she whispered. “Just... collecting myself.”

“Mmm. Take your time. You’re going to need it.”

Her breath hitched again, and I reached out—just brushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. My fingers lingered against her skin, deliberately slow.

I didn’t need to push harder. Not yet. The promise had already been sealed with her surrender. The rest? That would come soon. But for now, I gave her space to breathe, to think, to anticipate.

“I have a meeting in a bit,” I said casually, rising to my feet and adjusting my jacket. “But tonight’s yours. I want you to think about every move you made. Every moment. Every glance.”

I leaned down one last time, pressing the softest kiss to her temple.

“You’ll make a beautiful bride, you know.”

Sona swallowed thickly after she choked on her drink, trying to calm herself. “Y-you’re serious.”

My grin was all teeth. “I always am, sweetheart. Especially about things I want.”

And then I left, my hips swaying with every step, feeling the heat of her gaze burn into my back.

The game was over. But the real fun?

It was only just beginning.

{Sona's POV}

Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas—a name that, not so long ago, meant next to nothing to me. Just another noble lineage, just another face among the ranks of Lucifer’s children. We’d never crossed paths, not really. Maybe a few glances at a summit, or a mention here and there among the older Devils. I’d known of her, of course. Anyone in our circles did. But she was little more than an oddity, a curious footnote. A sister of Satan, yes. But one who seemed determined to remain in the shadows. That is, until she stepped into the Human World—and right into my life.

At first, I thought nothing of it. She had made her home within the shared borders of Rias’s and my territory, and from the start, I had assumed she would be more trouble than she was worth. She looked the type—leather-clad swagger, a devil-may-care grin that spoke of sleepless nights and breaking rules for the thrill. The kind of woman who didn’t just spit on society’s rules, but poured wine over the ashes and lit another match just for the hell of it. I didn’t understand her. I didn’t want to. She was chaos, and I thrived on structure.

But curiosity is a damned thing.

It started small. Observations at first. I watched her from a distance, fascinated by how brazen she was. How she acted like the world would shift for her just because she asked. She didn’t posture, she didn’t pretend—she simply was. Suave and coarse, vulgar and oddly poetic. A contradiction dressed in leather and strange, neon eyes. I watched how she moved, how she smiled, how her harem practically revolved around her like moons pulled by a gravitational field of lust and love.

Harems are common enough in Devil society. We pretend they’re just practicality—repopulating, alliances, strengthening lines. But Rebecca? Rebecca loved her Peerage with such burning intensity, it looked like a fucking fairytale. One that had fangs and claws, sure—but still one drenched in affection so thick it became enviable. She didn’t treat them as pieces on a board. No, she adored them. A single threat, even a veiled insult directed toward one of hers, was enough to trigger her wrath. That fierce protection was...

It was beautiful.

I never said it aloud. Not then.

Even when she challenged Riser and beat the ever-living shit out of him for Rias’s hand in marriage, I dismissed her. A creature of impulse, I had said. A woman living by her own script. Rias was smitten, but I stayed at the edges. I stayed safe.

But things shifted—fuck, they changed—a month ago.

After she proposed to Rias, after the engagement celebrations died down, Rebecca turned her gaze on me.

Me.

I tried to convince myself it was nothing. That she was just being flirtatious, like always. That I was a convenient target for her silver tongue and sultry gaze. But then... it didn’t stop. Her touches became more deliberate. Her glances lingered longer. Her words? They stopped being vague innuendos and started sounding like promises. And that terrified me.

Because I started to want it. Her.

And it scared the hell out of me.

I’ve always relied on my intellect. That’s what I had. I wasn’t flashy. I wasn’t seductive. My breasts were perky, sure, but hardly what you’d call bountiful. My ass? Decent, but nothing compared to Rias or the rest of Rebecca’s girls. And smarts? Well, I wasn’t even unique in that regard. Rias could be clever when she applied herself, and even Saya—not even part of our original circle—had wit to spare. I felt... ordinary in a sea of extraordinary.

So when Rebecca started chasing me, I doubted it. I doubted her. I doubted myself.

But she never stopped.

She called me beautiful. Over and over again, with such raw honesty that it felt like being bathed in molten gold. It wasn’t flattery. It wasn’t manipulation. It was the kind of praise that made your soul ache.

Every time she looked at me, I felt stripped bare. Not just naked—but seen. And I couldn’t help but tremble under her gaze.

She’d lean in close during strategy meetings, breath warm on my neck, whispering things that made my spine arch and my legs squeeze together. She’d sit beside me on couches too narrow for the two of us, her thigh brushing mine like a challenge. And she always smelled faintly of spice and danger—like the promise of midnight sin and secrets whispered against collarbones.

We hadn’t even kissed, and yet my dreams were already drenched with her. With her voice. Her hands. Her mouth.

Satans.

And still, she waited. As if she knew I needed time.

Even when I was cold. Even when I deflected. Even when I questioned everything, she stayed the same—steadfast and burning, a star refusing to fall. I asked her once, half-joking, why she kept coming back to me.

“Because you’re worth chasing, Sona.”

And she said it so simply, so earnestly, that I couldn’t even scoff.

Because Rebecca doesn’t lie. Not in the way most do. Her words twist, yes. They dance around truths like a blade twirls in a duelist’s grip—but they mean something. Always. There’s no manipulation in her conviction.

So when she told me I was beautiful, I started to believe it.

When she told me I made her feel alive, I started to ache for more.

And when she told me, casually and without ceremony, that she wanted me in her future... I couldn’t stop the hope from blooming like wildfire.

It was after one of our chess games, one I lost. Maybe she simply outplayed me. Again. She leaned forward, those eyes of hers gleaming like polished garnet, and said, “You’ll make a beautiful bride, you know.”

I choked on my drink.

And instead of retorting, I found myself wondering what our wedding would look like. Who would be there. If I’d wear white or if she’d insist on something scandalous. If she’d fuck me against the altar afterward, just because she could.

Satans forgive me—I wanted that.

I wanted her.

I want her.

And I know what she wants, too. She doesn’t hide it. Not the hunger in her eyes. Not the way her gaze dips whenever I wear something just a little tighter than usual. She talks like a brute and moves like a rogue, but her hands are always gentle when they brush my cheek, and her voice softens when she says my name.

She hasn’t asked me to join her harem yet. She’s waiting. Maybe for me to be sure. Maybe because, in her eyes, I deserve to want it first.

But I see the way the others look at me. Rias smiles a little too knowingly. Saeko gave me a nod once, as if recognizing a rival turned ally. Shizuka offered to run her fingers through my hair, which might be the most sensual thing I’ve ever refused in my entire life.

They see it coming.

Hell, I see it coming.

And I want it.

I want her to kiss me like she owns me. I want her to pin me down, to fuck me until my name melts into hers. I want her to whisper those filthy, tender nothings she’s so fucking good at while her hands explore every inch of me. I want to be hers.

And maybe—just maybe—I already am.

Maybe I fell the moment she touched my hand for the first time and didn’t let go.

Maybe it happened the moment she called me by name, like it meant something. Like I meant something.

Rebecca Glaysa-Labolas is fire wrapped in flesh, and somehow, some fucking how, she looks at me like I’m the one who burns brighter.

And if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

So tonight, when she comes by again, when she leans in close, her breath warm and smelling faintly of blood and spice, I think I’ll stop pretending I don’t want it.

I’ll stop pretending I’m not already halfway hers.

Because the truth is—I’m ready to be chased.

And even more than that... I’m ready to be caught.

{Rias's POV}

I smiled gently, the corners of my lips tugging upward as I leaned back in the plush armchair across from the couch. My eyes lingered on Rebecca—my beloved, my savior—as she sprawled lazily across the velvet cushions, one leg thrown over the armrest, a half-lidded gaze sweeping the room before settling on me. She looked comfortable, like a predator that had no need to bare its fangs, yet every inch of her radiated control, danger, and love. She was, in every way, a blessing in my life.

No, more than a blessing—Rebecca was salvation wrapped in leather and gunmetal. Her chaotic energy was nothing short of infectious, and her sharp tongue, foul mouth, and sheer ferocity had not only carved a space in my heart, but had reshaped it entirely. She had saved me, pulled me out of despair, and given me purpose beyond my titles, beyond the cage I had been raised in. I would be grateful until the end of my days—and even beyond that, should we be reborn again.

Of course, there were... complications. It was certainly a shock when I found out that Rebecca wasn’t from our world, that she had traveled across dimensions as part of the [Waifu Catalog]. The truth was even stranger: our world wasn’t her first, nor her original. She had seen versions of it before—variations, echoes of what could’ve been. She knew how things were supposed to go. She hadn’t said how much she knew, but her every word carried weight, like someone reciting from a script they’d already memorized, only choosing which lines to speak and which to leave unsaid.

I didn’t mind. Even knowing I was soul-bound to her—tethered by [Capture] and [Retinues]—felt oddly romantic. Sure, the implications were morally gray as fuck, but she didn’t act like some controlling master. She made me feel safe, respected, loved. Besides, I got stronger after binding with her. So much stronger. I was starting to understand the Power of Destruction in ways I’d never dreamed of before, unlocking depths I hadn’t even known existed. With enough time... maybe I could surpass even Serena.

Maybe.

Unlikely, honestly. Not because I doubted myself, but because Rebecca clearly had her eyes on Serena too. I had caught the way she looked at my older sister—hungry, curious, admiring. And when I’d asked about it—half teasing, half serious—Rebecca hadn’t hesitated to admit it. She wanted Serena. And Grayfia, too. I could tell she was telling the truth—not that she could lie, but still. Her tone was so matter-of-fact, as if wanting more didn’t diminish what she already had.

I wasn’t mad. Satans, how could I be? If anything, I was excited. Thrilled, even.

Yes, Serena and Grayfia were happy together—but I could imagine it so clearly: them being even happier as part of Rebecca’s harem. Wrapped up in the same tangled web of love and chaos that had already claimed me. Even if it meant Serena would always be stronger, I didn’t care. The thought of sharing Rebecca, of loving her together, didn’t bother me at all. Quite the opposite. It made me feel warm inside. Hopeful.

And then there was Mother.

Venelana. Beautiful, elegant, and so very lonely. I’d seen the way her smiles had dulled over the years, how her eyes lingered on Father with increasing disappointment. Especially after he had pushed for my engagement to Riser. That entire ordeal had soured whatever love still lingered between them. Rebecca noticed it too. Of course she did. And she was already courting Mother in her own way—small gestures, soft smiles, quiet but intentional flirtations.

I hoped, truly hoped, that Rebecca could take her away from that cold marriage. That she could make her happy again. One would think I’d be bothered by the thought of my sister and my mother being in the same harem, but we were Devils. Our culture wasn’t exactly squeamish about these things. And more importantly, Rebecca made us feel wanted—deeply, achingly wanted.

I leaned back further, exhaling softly through my nose as I watched her. Rebecca shifted on the couch, her red jacket slipping slightly off her shoulder, revealing a hint of collarbone and tattooed skin. Her strange eyes—neon green, pink and red—glinted with amusement as she caught me staring.

"You’re undressing me with your eyes again, Princess." she said, voice low and teasing.

I flushed, but didn’t look away. "Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?"

She grinned, slow and sharp. "Not a damn thing. Yet."

The tension between us hummed like a live wire. That familiar pull in my stomach stirred, not just lust but something deeper, more primal. I wanted her. I always did. But more than that—I loved her. With every inch of my being, I loved her.

She pushed herself up, slowly, prowling over the back of the couch with that casual, cocky grace that made my heart flutter. Her boots hit the carpet with a soft thud, and then she was standing before me, towering just slightly. I felt so small when she looked at me like that—like I was the most precious thing in the world, and also like she could devour me whole if she wanted to.

Her hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. Her thumb lingered, stroking gently.

"You look like you're thinking too hard again." she murmured.

"I’m thinking about you." I admitted.

Her expression softened, a flicker of something tender flashing behind the mischief. "Yeah? Good thoughts, I hope."

I nodded. "Always."

She leaned down, pressing her forehead to mine. "I love you, Rias. I might not always say it like a storybook prince, but it’s the goddamn truth. You’re mine. And I’m yours."

The words rang with weight, echoing in the depths of my soul. Rebecca didn’t make empty promises. She couldn’t. Every vow, every confession, every filthy whisper she breathed into my skin carried the weight of oaths that could not be broken.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, tugging her closer until she straddled me, her thighs firm against my hips. Her scent filled my senses—gun oil, sweat, smoke, and something uniquely her. My breath hitched.

"Kiss me." I whispered.

She didn’t hesitate. Her lips claimed mine, rough and soft all at once, a kiss that stole my breath and fed my soul. I melted into her, threading my fingers through her hair, pulling her closer, deeper. Her tongue danced with mine, slow and sensual, and I moaned into her mouth.

We broke apart only when the need for air forced us to. Her lips were bruised, her pupils blown wide with desire.

"Damn, Princess," she rasped. "You're gonna kill me."

"You’ll die happy."

Rebecca chuckled, grinding against me just enough to make me whimper. Then she buried her face into the crook of my neck, kissing the sensitive skin just beneath my ear.

"When our guests get here, I’m going to behave. Promise. But right now? Right now, you’re mine."

I moaned softly, clutching her tighter. There was no fear in her arms, no shame. Only heat, and love, and the steady beat of her heart against mine.

And maybe, just maybe, we’d get the family we both longed for. Even if it meant seducing my sister and my mother into the same twisted, beautiful mess. Rebecca wouldn’t lie about her intentions. And if she said she could make them happy? I believed her.

But for now, it was just the two of us. And that was more than enough.

Her hand trailed down my back, drawing idle patterns as we sat tangled together, foreheads still touching. Her breath warmed my lips.

"I want to see you in that slutty maid outfit later," she said with a devilish grin. "You remember that outfit, don’t you?"

I shivered. Oh, I remembered.

"You’re insatiable."

"And you fucking love it."

And I did.

I pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling like a fool.

"I love you."

She paused, blinking, as if trying to process the sincerity. Then her expression melted, and she held me tighter.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I know. And I’ll never let you go."

Not in this life. Not in the next. Not ever.

We stayed like that for a long while. Just breathing. Just being. Waiting for the world to knock on the door.

But until then, she was mine.

And I was hers.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

Lady Rias, Lady Rebecca. Our guests have arrived." Yuriko's voice rang through the opulent meeting room just as she stepped in, the heavy doors gliding open behind her. As always, she carried herself with an imposing elegance, refined yet deadly. In her wake came the expected visitors from the Church—Shidou Irina and Xenovia Quarta. But trailing behind them was a surprise, one that made me raise a brow and smile like I knew something no one else did.

Griselda Quarta.

Even if they'd sent a letter beforehand detailing the Church's arrival, they left her name out—clever. Or perhaps intentional. Still, the moment I saw her, any irritation at the deception evaporated. She was stunning. Draped in the stark black-and-white of a nun's habit that did absolutely fucking nothing to hide the allure of her body. If anything, it framed her curves like a goddamn work of art. My grin turned wicked. I didn't even try to hide how I was checking her out.

Xenovia's glare hit me like a cold shower. Well, not really. More like a light sprinkle on a warm afternoon. Girl was scowling so hard, you'd think I'd slapped her sister's ass in public. Frankly, I found it cute. Sexy, even. There was just something about righteous indignation on a girl who clearly hadn't sorted out her feelings. I didn't react to her glare beyond a casual wink, which only made her scowl deepen. Griselda, on the other hand, offered nothing but calm curiosity.

Stoic. Trained. Disciplined.

Still, no armor could protect against me for long.

I could feel it in the air—the weight of her power. Controlled, tempered, but far from weak. She wasn't just some devout lapdog of the Church. No, this woman had been forged in holy fire and steel, and I felt my grin widen. This would be fun.

"Good evening, members of the Church. I hope your travel was well. I welcome you to Kuoh." Rias said, her voice smooth, regal, and utterly intoxicating. I felt the warmth of her presence next to me, her body close enough to touch. Every time she spoke in that formal tone, I wanted to pull her in and remind her of what we were outside these walls.

Irina and Griselda nodded in acknowledgment, but Xenovia? Still scowling. Girl needed to get laid. Or meditate. Or both.

"Good evening to you as well, Lady Gremory. And to you, Lady Glaysa-Labolas." Griselda replied, her voice elegant but edged with authority.

I raised a hand lazily in greeting, smirking. Of course they knew who I was. Every faction worth a damn had spies. And let’s be honest—it was hard not to recognize me. Pale blue-ish green skin, green hair, eyes like molten chrome... I wasn’t exactly subtle.

"I am Griselda Quarta, and these are Xenovia Quarta and Shidou Irina."

Irina gave an enthusiastic wave, all sunshine and youth, while Xenovia just folded her arms, her expression unreadable. At least one of them was trying to be polite. Still, I gave her a nod, acknowledging the effort.

"We’re here to discuss the matter of the Stray Exorcists and the missing fragments of the Holy Swords."

Griselda's tone shifted to something sharper, more focused. That steel I'd sensed earlier? It was now visible in her eyes. I leaned forward slightly, my elbows resting on the arms of my chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin.

"Well, this is bound to be a long meeting," I said, voice velvet and honey-laced, "So why don't you three sit down~? As the overseers of Kuoh, it would reflect poorly on us if we didn’t offer our guests some basic hospitality. Please, enjoy the food I prepared myself."

I clapped once, a crisp sound that echoed through the chamber. Like clockwork, members of my Peerage and Rias’s began filing in, carrying trays of food with the practiced grace of servers. Even Kiba joined, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed how much effort it was taking not to protest.

The scent hit like a tidal wave—spiced meats, roasted vegetables, baked bread, and hints of sweet glaze. Irina’s stomach growled audibly, and I had to bite back a laugh. Xenovia’s eyes narrowed, but the twitch of her lips gave her away. Griselda, ever composed, gave a small nod.

"We thank you, Lady Glaysa-Labolas."

I waved a hand, brushing off the formality. "You're our guests. Also, my last name’s a bit of a mouthful—just call me Rebecca~."

I laced my voice with [Alluring Whisper: Siren’s Song], just a dash. Enough to make the words stick in her mind, to soften the edge just so.

Griselda’s lips curved, subtle but telling. "Then you may call me Griselda."

"And you may call me by my first name as well, Miss Quarta." Rias added, and I felt her fingers graze my thigh under the table—a subtle gesture, one meant for me and me alone. Heat curled in my stomach.

Griselda nodded. "Very well."

They finally took their seats as the food was laid before them. Irina and Xenovia hesitated only a moment before diving in, appetite winning out over protocol.

"Well~? Don’t let it go cold. Let’s eat while we talk."

They didn’t know it yet, but I already had my claws in them.

Rias leaned a little closer, the soft perfume of rose and night-cherry whispering from her skin. Her voice was low, for my ears only. "You’re enjoying this far too much."

"Can you blame me?" I murmured back. "You saw Griselda. That woman is sex and sin wrapped in prayer."

Rias stifled a laugh behind her hand, then smiled at Griselda with perfect composure. "We are grateful you could come on such short notice."

I turned my attention to Griselda again. She sat straight, composed, but I watched the way her eyes darted briefly to me when she thought I wasn’t looking. The faintest quirk of her brow, the subtle tightness around her mouth—tells. She wasn’t unaffected.

"I imagine it’s been exhausting, traveling all this way," I said, voice warm, measured, the truth laced into every word like silk. "I assure you, we take these talks very seriously, but there’s no need to rush."

Griselda inclined her head, but her eyes lingered this time. Her fork paused halfway to her lips.

"Thank you, Rebecca."

The way she said my name—just a touch too slowly—made something tighten in my gut. Not fear. Anticipation.

Xenovia, ever the mood-killer, cleared her throat. "Should we begin the negotiations now, or wait for the rest of your group?"

I smiled, saccharine sweet. "In due time, Xenovia~. For now, food first. Strategy on a full stomach is better for the soul."

Griselda nodded in agreement, surprising me slightly. "That would be wise."

Across the table, Rias’s gaze found mine, and I saw the glint in her crimson eyes—the same one I saw when she pinned me to the bed, when she bit my lip just a little too hard, when she said my name like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Her fingers found mine beneath the table. A small squeeze. A shared secret.

The meeting hadn’t started yet, but the game? Oh, the game was already in motion.

And I never played to lose.

{Griselda's POV}

The meeting was going surprisingly well. Far better than I had initially anticipated. Truth be told, I had prepared for the worst. Given Xenovia’s usual temperament, especially where Devils were involved, I had been fully expecting her to explode in righteous fury the moment Lady Rebecca or any of the Overseers opened their mouths. But she hadn’t. She had been silent—eerily so, in fact—and while that should have alarmed me, I found myself grateful instead. Grateful and more than a little curious.

I suspected the reason for her silence lay squarely on the banquet table before us. The food... Saints preserve me, the food. Lady Rebecca had prepared the spread herself, or so we had been told, and whether that was a boast or a veiled threat, I could not tell. Either way, it didn’t matter. The moment the flavors hit my tongue, I was struck dumb. It was divine—ironically, or perhaps fittingly, sinfully divine. There was a complexity to the taste that made me pause after the first bite, overwhelmed not just by the flavor but by the raw desire it awakened in me.

I’ve had Angel-made food before. Lady Gabriel, in her kindness, had prepared some for us on occasion. That food had warmth—comforting, like the embrace of a beloved mother or the serenity of a chapel bathed in golden light. Rebecca’s cooking, by contrast, was an entirely different creature. Where Gabriel's meals made you feel like you were basking in holiness, Rebecca's made you ache for more, made you want. Gluttony, desire, temptation—all those sins we were taught to resist wrapped up in mouthfuls of roasted meats, rich sauces, and delicate pastries that made your knees weak.

And I wasn't alone in feeling this. Xenovia, of all people, was practically vibrating with restrained need, her eyes flicking back to her plate between each spoken word. Irina was no better, cooing over the food like a girl at her first ball. I would have scolded them if I hadn't been busy sneaking another bite myself. It was humiliating how easily Lady Rebecca had disarmed us—not with weapons or threats, but with something as mundane as food. But it wasn’t just the food that had me on edge.

It was her.

Lady Rebecca.

She was... different.

I had faced Devils before—seductive, silver-tongued tempters all of them—but Rebecca was something else. Her charm wasn’t some obvious, lusty display of cleavage or lecherous lines whispered under her breath. No, she spoke with a subtlety that left you feeling as though you’d missed something important, something tantalizing. There was a layered quality to her words, as if she were always saying more than what was apparent, weaving truths with hidden meanings like some sort of court trickster. And every word she spoke felt oddly sincere, like she couldn’t lie, even if she tried.

That should have made me feel safe. It didn’t.

If anything, it made her more dangerous.

Because I believed her. Every word, every amused chuckle, every compliment that passed her lips—I took them as truth. And that frightened me.

She had this gaze. Oh, that damned gaze. When her golden eyes landed on me, I felt seen in a way I hadn’t been in years. Not just seen, but appraised. Studied. Desired. It was the kind of look that made you feel like prey—and somehow flattered at the same time. Her gaze trailed over my form like silk and fire, burning with intensity and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

I’ve had many eyes on me over the years, both covetous and admiring. I’ve dealt with lustful humans, lascivious Devils, and even the occasional forward Fallen Angel. But this? This wasn’t mere lust. This was focused, patient hunger. Like she knew she could have me, and was simply waiting for me to realize it too.

I hated how effective it was.

It wasn’t just me, either. I caught Irina stealing glances at her—more than a few, in fact—and each time she did, her face colored prettily, a blush creeping across her cheeks that she tried to hide behind her glass. As for Xenovia, she was a walking contradiction. Her jaw clenched whenever Rebecca spoke, but her eyes lingered just a beat too long, her breath caught just a little too often. She wanted to hate her, truly, but her body hadn’t gotten the message.

Lady Rebecca was far too aware of this. She didn’t gloat, didn’t push, but she knew. There was something teasing in her smile, something that made me want to slap her and pull her closer in the same breath. She would compliment Xenovia’s sword form with genuine admiration, only to follow it up with a casual observation about how her posture lent itself to flexibility. Irina would try to share some holy anecdote, and Rebecca would lean in just enough to invade her space, her tone laced with an interest that was too focused, too intimate.

Then there were the touches. Innocent on the surface—fleeting, polite, entirely appropriate. A hand on Irina’s shoulder when passing a dish. Fingers brushing against mine when offering a napkin. A nudge of her knee beneath the table that might’ve been accidental if not for the amused smirk she gave me afterward. Every interaction with her felt like a game I didn’t know the rules to, and I was rapidly losing.

The Overseers, mercifully, kept the meeting on track. They answered our questions thoroughly, clarified their responses when we pushed for detail, and seemed genuinely invested in avoiding conflict. Rebecca would chime in occasionally, her comments often insightful and always delivered with a calm confidence that belied her chaotic energy. She could talk about the intricacies of Devil society one moment, then casually reference obscure Angelic texts the next, as if she belonged to neither side and yet understood both intimately.

And yet, even with all this civility, the air was thick with tension. Not the kind that preceded battle—but the kind that came before something... else. Something darker. Hungrier.

I shifted in my seat, my uniform suddenly too warm, too tight in all the wrong places. I wasn’t a fool. I recognized arousal for what it was, even if I didn’t want to admit its source. There was something about the way Rebecca existed that demanded attention. She was short, yes, almost childlike in stature, but there was nothing innocent about her. The way she moved was too fluid, too practiced. Every step, every glance, every breath was intentional. She performed femininity like a weapon—wielded it like a blade dipped in honey.

And damn me, but I wanted to be cut.

As the discussions dragged on, I found it harder and harder to concentrate. Rebecca would smile—just a little curl of the lips—and my thoughts would derail. She would speak, and I would lean in without realizing it. When she finally excused herself for a moment, rising from the table and heading toward the adjoining room, I felt the shift like a breeze had left the room. My shoulders relaxed, only for my thoughts to immediately wander to how she walked away, her hips swaying just a touch too much.

Irina sighed beside me, clearly flustered. "She’s... different." she murmured, mostly to herself. Xenovia, ever blunt, grunted and crossed her arms.

“She’s dangerous.” she muttered, though the tightness in her jaw made me think she wasn’t sure if that was a complaint or a compliment.

“I’d agree,” I said, trying to regain some measure of composure. “But she’s not our enemy. Not today.”

Xenovia snorted, her fingers drumming against her arm. “That’s the problem. She’s not fighting us. She's seducing us. And worse—she’s good at it.”

Irina giggled softly, her voice a little breathy. “I mean... have you seen her arms? They’re—”

“Defined.” I finished for her before I could stop myself.

All three of us paused.

God help us.

When Rebecca returned, the room tilted again, the weight of her presence dragging our focus back to her like the tide pulling at the shore. She met my eyes, and something about the way her lips curled—playful, knowing, just a touch wicked—made my breath catch.

"Did you miss me?" she asked.

I didn’t respond. Not with words. I couldn’t.

Because if I opened my mouth, I might not be able to stop myself from saying yes.

And she would know I meant it.

{Rebecca's POV}

The meeting was going smoothly enough—for now. There was a sense of fragile civility in the air, the kind that always breaks under pressure, and I could see the cracks forming in Kiba's expression. He was trying, I’ll give him that. Trying to be civil. Trying to be respectful. But that anger—the cold, persistent hatred he had toward the Church—was simmering just beneath the surface.

"May I request a spar?" Kiba asked, voice calm but his eyes sharp. His tone held restraint, but I could tell it was barely leashed. Well, at least he was still playing at manners.

Griselda Quarta tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable but not entirely dismissive. "May I ask what for?"

That was polite code for 'Are you just trying to pick a fight, or is there something useful behind this?'

"If we're going to work together, then wouldn’t it be best to know each other's strengths?" Kiba reasoned, words carefully chosen, but the undercurrent of his desire to clash with the Church's representatives was practically vibrating in the air.

He had a good point. Not that I believed for a second that this was just about tactical awareness. I rolled my eyes, the action subtle but intentional. It wasn’t like I didn’t notice the way Kiba’s posture always tensed around holy types. I had managed to ease his grudge somewhat, especially since I got engaged with Rias. But some grudges run deep. His was a bleeding wound under a bandage of logic.

Still, he wasn't wrong. I was curious about Griselda, particularly. I could sense the power tucked neatly beneath her calm, the way she carried herself with unshakable grace. There was strength there—formidable, refined—and it made my fingers itch.

"I do see your point. Very well." Griselda answered, nodding.

That was my cue. I smiled slowly, the kind of expression that promised more than just hospitality. "In that case, let’s take this to my manor. Our training grounds are reinforced by layers of enchantments, thanks to Saya, so collateral damage isn’t a concern."

They all turned to look at me. I could feel it—the weight of their stares, their curiosity, their interest. It was always like that. I drew eyes like a flame in a dry forest. They wanted to know what made me so confident. So calm. So fucking alluring.

"Thank you for your offer, Rebecca." Griselda said, polite and formal as ever.

I grinned, letting the expression settle into something sly. The woman was still guarded around me—she had to be, given what I was—but I’d been wearing her down with steady, tactical use of [Honest to the Bone], [Alluring Whisper], [Sticky Fingers], and a few other talents better left unsaid. The [Tsundere Service] had worked wonders on Xenovia, and I'd noticed more than once the way Griselda's eyes lingered, just a second too long, when she thought no one was looking.

Disciplined as she was, Griselda was still a woman. Still flesh. Still desire beneath duty. And I was nothing if not good at coaxing out the want people buried beneath their holy missions.

"Don’t mention it, Griselda," I purred, deliberately dropping the honorific. "Besides, once Kiba and one of my Knights finish showing off, I’d like to spar with you too~."

The suggestion hung in the air like incense—thick, sweet, and cloying. My tone was innocent enough, but the implication was unmistakable. I saw the faintest flush bloom along her cheeks as she cleared her throat and brought her hand up, covering her mouth in a practiced motion.

"If you are sure," she replied, clinging to the literal meaning of my words with the same fervor one might cling to a rosary. "Then I don't mind seeing your strength, Rebecca."

I hummed in response, noncommittal but pleased, my gaze lingering just long enough on the swell of her chest to make her shift slightly in her stance. She was trying so damn hard to remain unaffected, and it was adorable.

Xenovia, on the other hand, wasn't even trying to hide it. Her eyes were sharp and direct, and when they landed on me, they practically burned. She was standing just a little too close to Griselda, posture a touch too stiff—either from discipline or tension, I couldn’t tell. But I caught the way her gaze dipped along my body, how her jaw flexed.

Oh, she wanted something. And she didn't know if she was allowed to want it.

Irina was just as bad, though more subtle about it. Her cheerful exterior was something of a mask, but I could see the flickers of heat behind her smile. The curiosity. The hunger. She was glancing between me and Xenovia, her gaze thoughtful—like she was weighing her options.

"Now then," I said, breaking the tension just slightly, just enough to keep everyone from drowning in it. "Shall we?"

There were nods all around. With a snap of my fingers, the air shimmered beneath our feet, and a teleportation glyph lit up the ground. Moments later, we stood on the training grounds of my manor.

It was a vast space, enclosed with high, rune-covered walls that shimmered faintly under the sun. The magic woven into them was dense, layered, and tested—Saya's work, reinforced by multiple systems of containment and protection. More than enough to handle anything short of an all-out war.

"Welcome," I said, gesturing around. "Make yourselves at home."

The others spread out slightly, taking in the space. Kiba already looked more relaxed here. He needed the distance from the church figures, the air of familiarity. I let him have that.

My eyes drifted back to Griselda, who was carefully inspecting the enchantments carved into the walls. She really was diligent. Always watching. Always evaluating.

"You can relax, you know." I said lightly, stepping closer. Our proximity wasn't inappropriate—yet—but it was enough to make her body react. A twitch of the fingers, a shift in her stance.

"I am relaxed." she replied, too quickly.

I smiled again, slow and deliberate. "Of course you are."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. I waited, letting the silence stretch. Not awkward—no, I wouldn’t allow that. Tense. Charged.

"You are... quite confident." she finally said.

"Always," I replied, stepping even closer. "Would you like to know why?"

Her breath hitched—subtle, but real. She nodded.

I reached out and brushed a stray strand of silver hair from her face, fingers barely grazing her cheek. She didn’t pull away.

"Because I never say what I don’t mean."

She blinked, unsure whether to take it as a compliment or a warning. Maybe both. But I could see the way her pupils dilated. The way her body leaned in, just slightly.

Behind her, Xenovia’s gaze sharpened, locked onto the gesture. I saw jealousy flash through her, raw and unfiltered. Interesting.

"Griselda," Xenovia said suddenly, stepping closer. "Would you like me to stay nearby?"

The woman blinked, as if pulled from a trance. "No need. I am perfectly capable."

I looked between the two of them and let my lips curve up again. Oh, this was getting good.

Irina wandered over then, a bundle of sweetness and curiosity, her hands behind her back as she swayed on her heels. "This place is lovely, Rebecca. Did you decorate it yourself?"

"Not entirely," I answered truthfully. "Though I did add a few... personal touches."

"I can tell," she said with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking over the faintly suggestive artwork carved into the marble pillars. "You have taste."

"Flattery suits you, Irina."

She flushed, color high on her cheeks, but didn’t look away. "I wasn’t just being polite."

I tilted my head, letting my gaze settle on her. "Neither was I."

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was thick with tension—the kind that builds and builds, daring someone to be the first to act.

Griselda cleared her throat again, loudly this time. "Shall we begin with the sparring matches, then?"

"Soon," I said, still watching Irina. "No need to rush. Let’s enjoy the atmosphere a little longer."

Kiba rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that I caught—"Always flirting." He wasn’t wrong. But he didn’t exactly stop me, either.

Griselda sighed quietly, but I saw it—her eyes flicked to my lips, just for a second.

Oh yes. This was going to be very fun.

Chapter Text

{Rika's POV}

Kiba was too damn tense. The guy looked like he was ready to snap, practically vibrating with pent-up rage. His eyes kept darting toward the Church girls—Xenovia and Irina—like they were personal insults made flesh. It wasn’t hard to guess why. The Holy Swords they carried, those fractured bits of Excalibur, stirred up something dark in him. A memory. A scar that still hadn’t scabbed over.

I sighed, glancing his way as we stood in the courtyard. The air was thick with anticipation, but also something rawer—trauma. Rebecca had been trying to get him to shift the focus of his hate. Instead of hating the Church as a whole, she wanted him to target the ones truly responsible—the men drunk on power, clinging to status and righteousness like a shield while they sacrificed children. Not the Church as an institution, not every wielder of a Holy Sword. But she hadn’t had enough time with him. Not yet. He was stubborn.

Still, someone needed to knock some sense into him eventually. He was smart enough to know that what had happened to him and his friends wasn't divine judgment. It wasn’t God’s will. Just the cruelty of petty tyrants playing messiah.

No point in bringing it up now, though.

“Is everyone ready?” Rebecca’s voice cut through the tension, melodic and devil-may-care, like she was just asking if we were up for drinks.

Except, of course, she was still openly seducing Griselda Quarta. And by "openly," I mean Rebecca was leaning in close, her grin playful, a spark of heat in her eyes that made it real obvious what she wanted. Griselda, for her part, was doing a spectacular job at pretending to ignore it. Keyword: pretending. Her blush was spreading faster than holy fire.

Honestly, I’m pretty sure Rebecca could seduce an Angel if she really wanted to. A regular human? Poor Griselda had no chance. Rebecca oozed confidence and chaos like it was a weapon.

“We are!” Xenovia and Irina called out in near-unison.

I looked at Kiba. He gave a short nod. Yeah, he was more than ready to swing. Poor bastard.

“Very well! Then, fight!” Rebecca declared, her voice taking on that almost theatrical tone she liked to use in moments like this—like a ringmaster letting the beasts loose.

Kiba didn’t hesitate. He moved fast—too fast—and went straight for Xenovia, sword clashing with hers in a flash of steel and divine light.

I shrugged, turned toward Irina, and took a few casual steps forward.

Irina looked a little unsure. Then her expression shifted into that bright, optimistic smile she always wore. "Sorry if I hurt you!" she called cheerfully, already sprinting at me with her sword raised.

Cute. I rolled my eyes. I had no intention of ending this too fast. I wanted to feel her out a bit. See what she could do.

I summoned Kanshou and Bakuya, the twin swords singing in my hands. Her gaze flicked to them with a mix of confusion and fascination. I just smirked.

She reached me fast, faster than I expected from someone who looked like she belonged in a damn church choir. Her blade came at me in a clean, elegant arc. I dodged at the last moment and parried with minimal force, letting her momentum carry her past me.

"Woah!" she gasped, spinning to keep her footing.

She attacked again. I parried. Again and again. It became a rhythm. She'd strike, and I’d barely respond—just enough to redirect or deflect her blows.

This was the style I’d adapted from my [Template Stacking I], a suicidal rhythm designed to lure enemies into striking at openings that didn’t exist. Fake gaps, fake hesitation, all to bait them into thinking they had the upper hand.

Archerko had fought like that—each movement a calculated risk, always one step away from death, until it turned the tide. A dance on the edge of a blade.

Irina’s frustration started to show. Her swings became less precise, her breathing more ragged.

“Why... can’t... I... hit you?!” she growled, her cheeks flushed with exertion and irritation.

I laughed, a low sound from deep in my chest. Her frustration was adorable.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Kiba. He was keeping up with Xenovia, but the sword she wielded—a Holy Sword, even if generic—was starting to wear him down. She wasn’t better than him, not by technique, but the divine aura of the blade was chipping away at his stamina and defenses.

He was losing. Slowly. Inevitably.

Irina’s sword carried a similar aura, but it didn’t affect me the same way. Maybe it was my natural resistance to magic. Maybe it was just that I was stronger. Either way, I felt nothing. Her swings felt like air brushing past me.

Eventually, Xenovia overpowered Kiba, knocking him down with a clean strike to the chest that sent him sliding backwards. He groaned but stayed conscious.

With that, I figured it was time to end things on my end too.

Irina charged again, yelling something that didn’t even register, and I let her close in.

This time, instead of parrying, I let her blade slide past my side—close, almost too close—and stepped in. My arms tangled hers just enough to yank her forward, and I drove my knee into her stomach.

Hard.

She let out a choked sound, her body crumpling as she fell to her knees, coughing and gasping. I kept hold of her sword arm until she dropped the blade, then helped her lie back without hitting her head.

“And, done!” Rebecca’s voice rang out like a bell.

I released a breath and offered Irina a hand. She took it, still wheezing but not too badly hurt.

Griselda was on us in seconds, her expression calm but tight. She barely spared me a glance before kneeling beside Irina and casting a gentle healing spell. The soft glow wrapped around the girl, easing her pain.

Rebecca sauntered up beside us, watching Griselda with the kind of smirk that suggested she was imagining the older woman on her knees for entirely different reasons.

“Now that they're done, let’s spar, Griselda~!” Rebecca purred.

The way she said Griselda’s name was like honey laced with arsenic—sweet and dangerous. The syllables practically dripped off her tongue. Griselda stiffened, her hands still glowing with healing magic, but the faint blush blooming on her cheeks gave her away.

Oh yeah. She was definitely flustered.

And Rebecca? She noticed. Of course she did.

She leaned in a little, her expression full of mischief. “Unless you’re scared I might... handle you too roughly.”

Griselda’s jaw tightened. She didn't look up, focusing intently on Irina like she wasn’t even aware Rebecca existed.

But she was. She really, really was.

I stepped back a bit, giving them space, more curious than anything else. There was something magnetic about watching Rebecca work—like seeing a storm seduce the sea. You never quite knew which one would give in first.

Rebecca tilted her head. “Or maybe you want me to?”

That got her a look. A real look. Griselda’s blue eyes flashed, and her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Rebecca grinned, satisfied, and let her gaze trail down Griselda’s form—just long enough to make her squirm.

She didn’t even need to touch her. The tension between them was so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife and it’d still scream.

For now, though, there would be no sparring. Just a very slow, very obvious build-up.

And I, being the innocent bystander that I definitely was not, simply smirked and watched it unfold. This was going to be fun.

Rebecca didn’t lie. Couldn’t. Everything she said was laced with that strange, mystical honesty. So when she told Griselda she wanted to spar—well, the word “spar” could mean a lot of things.

Some of them didn’t involve swords at all.

{Griselda's POV}

The spar proved to be enlightening.

Kiba, the so-called Knight of Gremory, was a respectable swordsman. Graceful, polished, and practiced. His strikes were clean, calculated, but there was something—something off about him. His judgment, perhaps. Clouded by emotions or unresolved memories, I wasn’t sure. But it affected his performance. And to make matters worse, he was facing off against Holy Swords, his own natural weakness. A difficult match-up for anyone, let alone someone with lingering doubts in their heart.

Still, he was capable. The sort of fighter I was glad to have as an ally, even if I wouldn’t trust him to keep a cool head in the thick of it. There was potential. A diamond still marred by a few imperfections.

Rika, though?

Now she was something else entirely.

One of Rebecca’s so-called Knights. I’d done my research. A former police sniper, if the whispers were to be believed. And on the battlefield, she was nothing short of dangerous. Watching her fight Irina was... informative. Irina gave it her all, every strike delivered with precision, every movement refined by years of training. And yet, Rika just danced around it. Not even bothering to block. Letting Irina flail at her, as if indulging a child throwing a tantrum. At first, I thought the woman had a death wish.

But then I looked closer.

None of Irina’s attacks even grazed her. Rika’s footwork was maddeningly precise, each sway of her hips and tilt of her shoulders just enough to avoid contact. It was risky, sure—but it was working. I’d never seen someone fight like that. So reckless and yet so in control. I could feel the tension in Irina growing, frustration simmering just beneath her skin. That kind of mental strain was an invisible battlefield, and Rika? She was winning.

And then there was Rebecca.

The Glaysa-Labolas heir. The woman of the hour in every supernatural circle worth its salt. The Devils especially were buzzing about her like flies to honey. Powerful, young, unpredictable. Our sources confirmed she was a High-Class Devil—and one who had already taken down another High-Class without so much as breaking a sweat.

Rumors had reached even the furthest corners of the Church. That she fought like a wild animal one moment, then like a calculating genius the next. That she was building a harem of killers, misfits, and monsters. That she had strange magic no one could trace. And that she never lied, though no one knew why.

She was sitting on a powder keg of secrets, and I couldn’t wait to light the match.

But more than that—if I were to admit it—I was interested. Not just in the mission. Not just in her power.

In her.

“Are you two ready?” Rias asked, her voice laced with excitement, though she tried to keep it regal. Her crimson hair glowed under the afternoon sun.

I gave a short nod, calm and composed. Rebecca? She grinned, a devilish thing that made the air feel thicker. Her stance was loose, almost lazy, but her eyes were locked on me. Guns already drawn, polished chrome glinting in the light. A strange weapon for a Devil, sure, but nothing about her had ever screamed ‘ordinary.’

“Then... fight!”

The words had barely left Rias’ lips when the first shot rang out. I was forced to raise my sword immediately, the impact slamming into the flat of the blade hard enough to make my arms tremble. The power behind that shot shocked me. I’d fought plenty of gun-wielders in my time—many exorcists carried firearms—but this? This was something else. That single shot had pushed me back an entire meter.

My boots scraped against the floor, my eyes narrowing at the petite menace before me. She was still grinning.

“I see.” I muttered.

Rebecca cocked her head. “Don’t worry, Sister~. I’m not trying to kill you. Yet.”

Her tone was playful, laced with something that brushed against flirtation, but her words held a peculiar sharpness. Like she couldn’t help but speak in half-truths. Something in me twitched at the challenge.

She fired again, and I didn’t bother blocking. Instead, I sidestepped the bullet, feeling the gust of air as it passed within inches of my cheek. There was no doubt now—those guns were custom-made, enchanted perhaps, or forged with some kind of infernal craftsmanship I didn’t recognize.

A long-range specialist, clearly.

Let’s see what she does when her target closes in.

I surged forward, weaving between the shots. Some I dodged cleanly, others I batted away with the flat of my sword. She was fast, but I was faster. And soon, I was within reach.

I swung.

The blade sliced through her cleanly, too cleanly, and my heart stopped. For a moment, I thought I had killed her—ended her life and set the entire precarious supernatural balance crumbling in one stupid, bloody moment.

But then her body exploded into smoke.

A log dropped where she stood.

“What the—?” I spun, instincts roaring, just in time to catch her new presence behind me. I raised my sword out of reflex.

Bang! Bang!

Two bullets slammed into my blade, the impact jarring. She had been close. Too close.

“Surprise!” Rebecca’s voice was delighted, almost childlike in its amusement.

I grit my teeth. I didn’t appreciate being toyed with. I wasn’t some greenhorn fresh from the seminary. I had fought monsters that wore human faces, demons that whispered in holy places. I had bled for the Church, burned for it, buried too many comrades to count.

And I was not about to be outdone by some smug, pint-sized Devil with a grin that could melt steel.

I lunged again, only for Rebecca to step on my sword—on my sword!—using the flat as a springboard to propel herself into the air. Mid-spin, she twisted with impossible grace and fired again. A barrage of bullets rained down. I dodged, barely, my breath sharp in my chest.

Enough.

I reached for a spell, muttering the incantation under my breath. The Church may frown upon magic, but I’d long stopped caring about doctrine. Faith didn’t mean blind obedience. It meant knowing what battles to fight—and how to fight them.

My limbs surged with strength, the world sharpening into focus.

I charged.

But she was gone.

I turned, feeling her approach from my left, and swung. A wild guess—except it wasn’t. My instincts were honed by years of blood and prayer, and I knew she’d be there.

Steel met air.

“Doing rather well~.”

She was behind me again, whispering praise in that infuriatingly sultry tone. I struck again, reckless. A mistake. My form was off, the angle too wide. She noticed.

Bang! Bang!

Two shots. One struck the hilt of my blade. The other hit dead center.

My fingers went numb.

I dropped my sword.

And there she was.

In front of me.

Both guns raised, tips almost touching my skin. Her expression was radiant with smug triumph, eyes glittering with something more than just victory. There was heat there—challenge, curiosity, desire?

“Give up?” she asked, cocking her head, her voice honeyed and full of mischief.

I glared at her. I could feel her breath on my lips, warm and steady. Her guns didn’t waver.

God help me, I wanted to kiss her.

But I wasn’t a normal woman.

I had shattered my body and soul for the Church. I had crawled through Hell and come back, still swinging. This young Devil with her golden eyes and teasing tongue wasn’t going to break me.

Not yet.

And as much as I hated to admit it... I was enjoying this. The thrill. The closeness. The challenge.

I wasn’t backing down.

Not now. Not ever.

{Rebecca's POV}

As the golden twin barrels of my wonderfully upgraded Desert Eagles pointed straight at Griselda’s serene, stoic face, I didn’t miss the soft muttering slipping past her lips. She didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—didn’t even breathe wrong. Most would’ve frozen under my gaze, but not her. That surge of mana rolling off her like a wave told me everything I needed to know.

She was casting.

Now, normally, I would’ve just pulled the trigger. I mean, even in a spar, you don’t let someone build up a spell unless you’ve got a death wish—or a kink. And I didn’t have a death wish.

Just... an unhealthy attraction to dangerous, unhinged women.

I mean, look at my harem. Saeko? A glorious, sword-wielding sado-masochist who literally gets off on blood and battle. Kyoko? A masochistic sub who practically begged to be broken down and worshipped in equal measure. So yeah, I hurt my women sometimes—when they asked for it. And when I say hurt, I mean the kind of pain that ends in moaning, not mourning.

But Griselda? She was a different breed altogether.

She wasn’t like the others—yet. She still clung to those oh-so-sacred Church ideals like a nun clutching her last rosary. But the moment I felt her mana spiking, I knew. Knew she was breaking the mold. Magic was heretical, according to the Church. Using it was supposedly a direct fuck-you to God’s design. And yet, here she was, a Holy Woman in full regalia, chanting under her breath as the light of magic pooled around her like some kind of divine contradiction.

It was fucking beautiful.

And sexy as hell.

So yeah, I let her cast. I didn’t stop her. Didn’t raise a brow. I just waited. Because if she was willing to use magic against me—me, the woman who was actively trying to make her part of my collection of lovely lunatics—then it meant she was starting to crack.

Cracking was good. Cracking meant I could slip in through the gaps.

When she finally finished, there was a flicker of movement. I barely noticed it until my Desert Eagles were being forcibly pried from my grip. I felt the pull, let go instantly, and backflipped out of reach. I landed smoothly, but she was already there.

Fast.

Faster than before.

The spell had enhanced her speed, no doubt about it. And not just a little. I could tell by the way the wind screamed around her, the air cracking as she moved like a blur of white and gold. Still, I didn’t panic. I’m not some rookie bitch with no tricks.

I Body Flickered.

One moment she was in my face, the next I was twenty feet away and above, grinning down at her. I could have flown, but that would’ve been unfair. Besides, where’s the fun in an easy win?

I began chanting—subtly. My voice was low, melodic, and laced with just enough magic to make the glyph shimmer beneath her feet. Before she could move, the entire sparring floor lit up in intricate sigils. A breath later, frost exploded outward, coating the ground in a thick sheet of enchanted ice.

Griselda’s footing faltered.

She skidded slightly—just enough for me to grin.

I Body Flickered again, reappearing in front of her as she tried to regain her stance. She barely blocked my first strike, then the second, but I wasn’t stopping. My fists, elbows, knees—they came at her in a flurry of taijutsu trained by demons and chakra-enhanced reflexes. She could keep up—barely—but I could see it: she wasn’t used to unstable footing.

I was.

With chakra sticking me to the slick ice, I danced around her like a devil in a snowstorm. Every dodge she made, every counter she attempted, I was there, twisting just out of reach, slamming a palm into her ribs, or sweeping her legs before she could recover. Still, she didn’t break.

Not until I wanted her to.

Finally, after another clash where she tried to pin me and I twisted mid-air, I used her momentum against her. With one well-placed strike and a pivot, I sent her tumbling onto her back. Before she could scramble up, I pounced.

Straddling her waist, I pressed her down with my thighs locked tightly around her. My palms pinned her shoulders, and I leaned forward, my grin sharp and gleaming. Her face—normally unreadable—was flushed, eyes wild with the high of combat and... something else.

I ground down against her, deliberately slow. The contact made her shiver. Her hands twitched under mine, but she didn’t fight.

I leaned down, brushing my lips against her ear, and whispered, “Had enough~?”

A breathless gasp escaped her lips before she clenched her jaw, clearly fighting the moan threatening to spill. Her body betrayed her before her mouth could. She nodded—frantically. Submitting without a word. And fuck, that did things to me.

Rias—ever the referee in this little game of ours—watched the whole thing unfold. She didn’t interrupt immediately, though. Probably because she was enjoying the sight just as much as I was. Only when Griselda’s blush reached critical levels did Rias clear her throat and declare the match over.

I didn’t move.

Not right away.

Instead, I lingered, letting the weight of me press into her just a little more. I stared into her eyes—those stormy, serious eyes now darkened with something far more primal—and smirked.

"Whenever you want," I murmured, voice sultry and full of wicked promise, "you can have me~."

Then and only then did I slowly rise, trailing my fingers down her armor-clad chest in a casual, lingering way that made her shudder.

Victory tasted sweet. But teasing her? That was the real reward.

Griselda didn’t get up immediately. She just lay there, panting lightly, one arm over her eyes as she struggled to calm the heat coursing through her. And I didn’t miss the way her cock strained against her holy uniform, clearly hard as divine punishment.

Satans, I loved breaking the serious types.

The other girls clapped or whistled—Saya even made some smartass comment about me always ending my fights in someone being pinned. I just shot her a wink. She wasn’t wrong.

But this wasn’t just about the win.

This was about peeling back Griselda’s layers, one piece at a time. She was wound so damn tight, so rigid in her beliefs, that watching her unravel even a little was like watching a dam crack. I wasn’t planning to flood her—yet—but I was damn sure gonna keep tapping at those cracks until the whole thing burst.

And judging by the way she avoided my gaze for the rest of the day—while sneakily glancing at me whenever she thought I wasn’t looking—I knew I was already deep under her skin.

That night, she avoided sitting beside me at dinner, but I noticed her plate was filled with the same stuff I liked. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I made sure to lick my fingers clean after every bite, eyes locked on her across the table. She fumbled her fork more than once.

It was adorable.

And hot.

Later, when the others had all gone to their rooms or cuddle piles, I stepped outside. Just for a smoke. Or maybe because I knew she’d follow. And sure enough, a few minutes later, Griselda joined me under the moonlight. She said nothing at first. Just stood beside me, arms crossed, eyes forward.

“So,” I began, exhaling a puff of smoke, “you’ve got some fight in you after all. Almost had me.”

“I wasn’t trying to win.” she said evenly, but her voice was softer than usual.

“Oh?” I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Then what were you trying to do?”

Her silence was telling.

“I don’t like losing control,” she admitted finally. “But... you make it hard not to.”

I stepped closer, not quite touching her but letting my presence loom. “Control’s overrated,” I whispered. “Sometimes, it’s fun to let go. Especially when you know someone strong enough to catch you.”

Her breath hitched.

I didn’t kiss her. Didn’t touch her. Just smiled—knowing, inviting.

When I turned to walk back inside, I didn’t have to look back to know she was watching me.

Hook, line, and holy woman.

Chapter Text

{Ravel's POV}

Being Rebecca's [Pawn] was fucking amazing. I mean, seriously, it was probably the best thing that could've ever happened to me. Not only was I closer to her than practically anyone else in the Peerage, but she spoiled me. She pampered me with this calm, unshakable sort of affection that wrapped around me like a warm blanket. It wasn’t loud or boastful—no, it was the kind of care that slipped beneath your skin and settled in your chest like a fire you never wanted to extinguish.

Rebecca wasn’t just powerful—though, fuck me, she was—she was also incredibly attentive. Sharp as hell, eyes like razors, but she was always watching in this way that made you feel seen, like really seen. And when she looked at me? Saints and Satans, I could melt.

She made sure I got stronger, too. I wasn’t just eye candy or some spoiled noble’s daughter anymore—I was training every day with the others, working myself raw and coming out better each time. The older woman was a phenomenal teacher—miles better than the stiff-necked tutors Mother and Father used to throw at me back home. Rebecca didn’t scold or belittle; she just showed me, guided me, and let me figure things out. Her way of teaching stuck. Maybe it was because every time I did something right, she’d smile that crooked little smirk of hers, or she’d reward me in some way that made my knees fucking weak.

Sometimes it was a treat—an actual baked good she made with her own hands, and somehow they always tasted just a bit like her, warm and a little spicy. Other times, she’d walk by during training, pause for just a second, and press a kiss to my shoulder. It was fleeting, light, but it left a burn I felt all day. And then there were the times when her fingers would graze my thigh, usually in passing but sometimes lingering—like she knew what she was doing to me. And if she did, she didn’t say a damn thing about it. That was the worst and best part. She gave me just enough to want more—so much more—but never quite crossed that line. Not yet.

By the Satans, I craved her attention like a fucking addict.

Of course, being her Pawn wasn’t just about the teasing, or the tension that made me grind my thighs together when no one was looking. It meant training alongside the rest of the Peerage. I was the weakest, objectively. Everyone knew it. But nobody treated me like shit because of it. In fact, the others helped. Saeko especially, even if she had that terrifying calmness that made my skin crawl sometimes. But there was kindness there, and even Saya—brilliant, smug little minx that she was—took time to tutor me.

Being traded into Rebecca’s Peerage from my brother’s? Best damn thing that could’ve happened. Sure, it caused a bit of a stir, mostly because Rebecca had to beat the ever-living hell out of Riser for it. And honestly? He deserved it. The cocky bastard had been getting more and more arrogant by the week. From what I heard from Mother, Rebecca’s little beatdown had actually done some good. Straightened him out some. Made him think twice before running his mouth. So, yeah—definitely a win-win. I got out, he got humbled, and Rebecca got me. Everyone wins.

Still…

I was jealous.

I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be more than just her Pawn. I wanted to be part of her harem. I thought maybe that was part of the package, y’know? Like, get traded in, train hard, fight well, and eventually get to crawl into Rebecca’s bed and never leave. But so far? No dice. Sure, she teased. Sure, she touched. But she hadn’t claimed me. Not like she had the others. And it fucking stung, because I wanted her to. I wanted her to press me down and make me hers in every filthy, possessive, sacred way she knew how. Every time she walked past, I had to fight the urge to whimper.

I knew I wasn’t alone, though.

Dee—Dee was part of the Peerage now, too. The current Red Dragon Empress, full of swagger and strange smiles and that casual chaos that made everyone a little nervous. She hadn’t joined the harem either, and that always struck me as weird. But maybe she was biding her time. Or maybe she didn’t want to be tied down just yet. Sometimes I caught her looking at Rebecca with this faraway gleam in her eyes, like she saw something the rest of us didn’t. Maybe she did. Dee was strange, sure, but she wasn’t stupid.

And then there were the fallen: Kalawarner, Raynare, Mittelt. Not officially in the Peerage. Not officially in the harem. But gods, you could feel the way they circled her, like wolves waiting for the right moment to leap. Raynare especially—it was in the way she stood, the way her wings flicked every time Rebecca entered the room. Mittelt played it off with snark, but she always leaned just a little closer when Rebecca spoke. And Kala? Cool and poised, but there was heat in her gaze.

They weren’t subtle. None of us were.

It was impossible to be subtle around Rebecca. She had this gravity about her, this magnetic pull that tugged at your every nerve. She’d smile at you and it would feel like your world had been set on fire. And then she'd walk away, not even realizing—or maybe pretending not to—that she’d left you burning in her wake.

Fuck, I wanted her.

And sometimes… sometimes I think she knew. The way her gaze lingered on me when I was sweaty from training, or when I tried to make some dumb joke to get her to laugh. The way her voice would drop a little when she said my name. Or the way her hand would settle low on my back, almost—almost—cupping my ass before pulling away. She never lied. I don’t think she could. But she always told the truth in that coy, twisty way that made you question your own thoughts.

"You’re improving, Ravel," she’d said just yesterday, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Her fingertips grazed my cheek. "If you keep this up, I might just have to give you a real reward."

A real reward.

What the fuck did that mean? I’d spent all night replaying it in my head, hands between my thighs, imagining what it could be. Her mouth, her tongue, her cock. The thought made my chest tight, made me breathless.

And when she caught me watching her during dinner, biting my lip like some desperate little pet, she just gave me that smirk again. The one that said she knew exactly what I’d been thinking about.

But still—nothing. No kiss, no claim, no fucking release.

I was going insane.

But I wasn’t giving up.

Because every touch, every look, every word she said to me was a promise in the making. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but soon. I’d earn it. I’d show her I was more than just a good little [Pawn]. I’d make her see that I could be hers, wholly and completely.

Until then?

I’d train. I’d grow. And I’d keep burning quietly every time she touched me.

And when the time came, when she finally decided to stop teasing and start taking—I’d be ready.

I’d always be ready for Rebecca.

{Akeno's POV}

Once the trio of Exorcists were escorted to their rooms within Rebecca’s manor—a sprawling estate of modern glass and steel contrasting the ancient magic it was saturated with—we, the Devils of Kuoh, gathered for a more private meeting in one of the estate’s lounges. It was cozy, dimly lit, with the quiet hum of enchantments in the walls that ensured privacy. No prying ears would hear what we were about to discuss.

"So," Sona began as she finally entered, heels clicking sharply against marble. "Should we report this to the Satans?"

She looked tired—drained from whatever diplomatic obligations she had just handled—but her presence was still dignified, controlled. Always so serious. Always so composed.

Rebecca, sprawled lazily on the long sofa, had her head comfortably nestled on my lap, her wild, silvery-white hair cascading over my thighs like a waterfall. She looked up at me as if I were the most beautiful thing in the world, and I swallowed hard under the heat of her gaze.

"Girl, please," Rebecca drawled, her voice velvet and thorns, laced with sarcasm. "Our older siblings already know about this shit."

Sona raised an eyebrow, but there was no real bite to her next words. "And why do you say that, exactly?"

Rebecca’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, the kind that meant she knew something we didn’t. Of course she did.

"Sona, dear," she said sweetly, and I could practically feel the sharpness behind the affection. "I'm sure lying to ourselves that our older siblings wouldn't plant spies in Kuoh is the kind of dumb hope only children indulge in."

Sona huffed, crossing her arms, her usual cool demeanor slipping just a little. She didn’t argue. Neither did Rias. We’d all guessed it already—spies placed here for our protection, even though we demanded independence. It wasn’t paranoia if it was true.

"Just think, my dear~" Rebecca purred, drawing a small circle on my thigh with her finger, her touch maddeningly gentle. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep still. "We’re the sisters of the Satans, the linchpins of their little human world experiment. Of course they’d try to get to them through us. And look—" she smiled without warmth, "we’re being targeted for assassination."

She said it like she was talking about the weather. That blasé confidence in the face of danger, the casual way she treated something as serious as a Cadre coming for our heads—that was part of what made her so damn intoxicating. So terrifying. So fucking irresistible.

Her hand drifted higher, brushing just under my skirt. I twitched. She noticed. Of course she did. Her thumb circled idly near the bulge she knew was there, and her grin deepened.

Honestly, I should’ve joined her harem ages ago—back when she and Rias got engaged. I’d had plenty of chances. But I was a stubborn, voyeuristic bitch who got off on edging herself. Watching Rebecca in her orgies, hearing the sounds echoing through her manor walls, imagining myself in the mix but never crossing that line—it was exquisite torture.

I was hard now. Throbbing, aching. And she knew. The little minx was nudging her cheek against my cock like a cat demanding attention, and it took everything I had not to whimper in front of the others.

"So," Sona said after a pause, clearly trying to ignore the sexual tension crackling in the air like a live wire, "they’ll handle this Cadre problem, then?"

Rebecca hummed. "Nah. If they were going to meddle, they’d have said something when the Church squad showed up. I think they’re honoring your wish for independence... for now."

It made sense. Lady Leviathan and Lady Lucifer loved their sisters deeply, but they also respected them. To a degree. If things got too out of hand, they'd descend upon Kuoh like avenging angels. But until then? We were on our own.

"Unless, of course," Rebecca added with a teasing tilt of her head, "you want to call for help right now."

Sona and Rias exchanged a glance, unreadable thoughts flashing between them. In the end, Sona nodded.

"We should at least prepare a distress signal."

"Smart," Rebecca murmured, voice laced with approval. "Contingency planning. Always sexy."

Rias rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Even Sona looked flustered again, her cheeks dusted a delicate pink.

Rebecca’s grin suddenly turned feral, like a predator catching the scent of blood. I swear I felt it in my spine.

"Still," she said, her voice low and lethal, "I’m not worried. We can take whatever shit they throw at us. I’ve got a little gift basket of horrors prepped just for that motherfucker. And besides—"

She pressed her lips gently to the tent in my skirt, and I gasped, my legs tensing.

"I want you girls to have your fun first~."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was panting, and I could see the way Rias was biting her lip, the way Sona’s thighs pressed subtly together. Everyone was pretending like they weren’t watching Rebecca edge me like a toy, but we all knew.

That’s what made her so dangerous. Not just her power. Her presence. She was chaos in a woman’s skin, a wildfire wrapped in lace. Her Peerage was undeniably the strongest among us, and if she said she could take a Cadre, I had no reason to doubt her.

And if she said she was going to fuck me senseless eventually... well, I damn well believed that too.

It wasn’t just lust. It was obsession. The way she touched, the way she teased, the way her voice wove around your mind and made you crave more. I wanted her. I needed her. But I wasn’t going to be easy prey.

Yet.

"You’re quiet," Rebecca whispered, looking up at me with those knowing, glowing eyes. "Thinking naughty thoughts, Akeno~?"

"Always, when it’s you." I whispered back, my voice breathy, a confession barely clothed in teasing.

She chuckled, soft and dangerous. Her breath ghosted over my clothed cock, and I whimpered. It was humiliating and thrilling, and I loved every second.

"You know," she continued, tapping her chin like she was thinking, "if we survive this whole Cadre debacle, maybe I’ll give you a little reward."

"You mean you’ll finally fuck me?" I asked, bolder than I felt.

"Maybe," she sang, the word full of promise and wickedness. "Or maybe I’ll edge you for another month just because I can."

I moaned, low and helpless. Rias coughed into her hand, clearly flustered. Sona looked like she wanted to scold us—but her own eyes were dilated, her breathing uneven.

We were all caught in her gravity. Rebecca didn’t just lead—she owned the room.

She sat up suddenly, her hand lingering on my thigh a moment longer before she stretched her arms over her head, her breasts straining against her shirt in a way that made my mouth go dry.

"Anyway," she said, as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just ruined me with a few teasing touches, "we’ll wait until they make the first move. Then we strike."

"Together?" Rias asked softly.

Rebecca looked at all of us, her smirk softening into something almost tender. "Always."

I stared at her, heart pounding. She wasn’t mine. Not yet. But one day, I would be hers.

And I’d love every minute of it.

{Rebecca's POV}

It was the calm before the storm, the kind of eerie stillness that always came before something went to shit. Tension hung in the air like humidity before a downpour, and everyone felt it. The atmosphere around Kuoh had shifted, heavier and charged, like the whole damn town was holding its breath. Things were definitely coming to a head, and the signs had been creeping in slowly but steadily.

It started with the appearance of stray exorcists. At first, it was just whispers, then sightings, then confirmed encounters. They’d begun filtering in just a few days ago, scattered and disorganized, but dangerous nonetheless. We weren’t entirely sure if it was coordinated or just a symptom of the larger chaos stirring in the supernatural world, but either way, we couldn’t ignore it.

Thankfully, Saya had managed to whip up a detection array, one that flared up any time someone with hostile intent wandered into range. The damn thing was a lifesaver, even if it wasn’t perfect. It didn’t cover the whole town, which left gaps big enough for trouble to squeeze through, but it was better than nothing. Every time the array lit up, we were on high alert, sprinting to intercept whoever or whatever had triggered it.

Now, not every trigger was legit. Sometimes it was a pissed-off neighbor, a particularly intense lovers’ spat, or some hormonal teen with too many mood swings for their own good. But we learned to sort the noise from the real threats. Most of the time, we caught the bastards before they made it too far in. Unfortunately, we couldn’t be everywhere at once. Some nights, we’d find the aftermath instead of the threat—a civilian too slow, too unlucky, or too alone. It ate at us, but we couldn’t save everyone. Not yet.

Still, we kept going. The good news? None of the real heavy hitters had shown up yet. No fallen generals, no crazy artifact-wielding psychopaths, no monsters hiding behind holy smiles. Just small fry so far. And somehow, we’d been keeping things from exploding—barely.

Even Kiba was keeping his shit together, which was saying something. He didn’t so much as growl at the friendly exorcists, though you could see the tension in his jaw whenever one of them got too close. Xenovia, meanwhile, hadn’t tried to decapitate any of us devils in days, so that was a plus.

As for me? I had my own little mission going on. Well, more of a personal project, really. The trio of exorcists—Griselda, Xenovia, and Irina—were a particularly tempting challenge. I wouldn’t call it a conquest, not exactly. More like a game, one I played with silk words and heavy glances. And as with most games I played, I played to win.

Griselda was the crown jewel. Holy, composed, and always trying to look like the goddamn picture of virtue. She carried herself like a woman who’d taken a vow, a warrior-priestess trying to keep her soul clean in a world full of filth. But even she wasn’t immune. I saw the way her eyes lingered. I noticed the way her posture stiffened whenever I got too close, like she was forcing herself not to lean in. There was a hunger there, deep and buried, but real.

If she hadn’t shackled herself to the Church’s ideals, she probably would’ve already jumped my bones. Maybe she still would. Because here’s the truth—one she’d never admit out loud: the temptation wasn’t just there. It was loud. She was fighting a war within herself, and I was winning it slowly, deliciously, and with every word I offered wrapped in truth she couldn’t easily ignore.

I don’t lie. Can’t. It’s just how I am. But that makes the game even more fun. I twist words like ribbons, wrap them around truths most people don’t see coming until it’s already too late. When I told Griselda she was beautiful when angry, that her righteousness made her all the more appealing—it wasn’t a lie. She knew it too. And knowing that it was honest made it all the more dangerous.

Xenovia, on the other hand, was a walking contradiction. She was brash, rough around the edges, and carried a blade like she was born to cut through sin and demons alike. She also hated devils. Or at least, she said she did. I could tell the hate wasn’t truly hers. It was borrowed, planted deep by the Church and nurtured by years of doctrine. But her soul didn’t scream with hatred. It whispered confusion.

She didn’t know what to do with the way I looked at her. She didn’t know what to think when I brushed past her with a smirk and a compliment that hit too close to home. She was trained to strike down temptation, but I made her laugh. I made her hesitate. Each time she tried to shove me away, I saw the cracks deepen.

Flirting with her was like pressing on a bruise—painful, yes, but revealing. The longer we spent together, the more she stopped looking at me like an enemy. The more she started to question everything. Her deflections became fewer, her silences heavier. I was breaking her down, piece by stubborn piece. And she was letting me.

Then there was Irina. Sweet, kind Irina, the least hateful of the trio. She still followed the Church, still talked about duty and righteousness, but it was different with her. Her faith was personal, not weaponized. She didn’t judge just because she was told to. She thought for herself.

That made her the easiest to reach—and the most fun to tease. Every time I whispered something naughty, every time I leaned just a little too close, she blushed like a schoolgirl. She hadn’t fallen, not completely. But she was wobbling on the edge. I knew she prayed every night, asking for strength to resist me.

That just made me smirk. Because I wasn’t tempting her with lies. Everything I offered was real. Everything I said came wrapped in truth she couldn’t deny. Her prayers were getting quieter. Her glances longer. If anyone was going to be the first to break and take a bite of forbidden fruit, it’d be Irina. She just needed a little more time. A little more pressure.

Despite all that tension, despite the mounting dangers, there was a strange kind of rhythm to our days. Patrols. Training. Strategy meetings. Flirting. Repeat. The town wasn’t safe, not entirely, but we were holding the line. For now.

But peace, as always, was temporary. The calm before the storm never lasts. And we could all feel it—something was coming. Bigger than a few rogue exorcists, more dangerous than a random holy skirmish.

Saya had been quiet lately, deep in her calculations and array expansions. Saeko sharpened her sword with a little more focus than usual, and even Shizuka had stopped giggling quite as much. The others were on edge too. Kyoko was restless, always glancing at the horizon. Yuriko hadn’t smiled in a while, and that meant something was seriously fucked.

Me? I felt it in my bones. In the way my instincts hummed low and steady like a war drum. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t going to wait much longer. And when it hit, we’d have to be ready—not just to fight, but to protect what we’d built here. Our little found-family. Our chaos-riddled, horned-up, dysfunctional family.

Because yeah, we were all futas now. Doesn’t change the fact that this place, these people—they mattered. And I’d burn down the world before I let it all slip away.

So I smiled, leaned back in my chair as I watched Irina pretend not to stare, and Griselda try not to frown too hard at the way Xenovia’s eyes lingered when I passed by.

The calm was almost over.

Let the storm come.

I was ready.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

We noticed something was wrong the moment Irina, Kiba, and Saji missed their hourly check-in. It wasn’t just a late message. It was silence. Utter, deafening silence that pulled a chill through the room. Rias didn’t hesitate. With a flick of her fingers and a sharp word, she dispatched a familiar to scout their patrol route.

The tension was thick, everyone holding their breath as the little creature darted into the distance. Time dragged. Minutes stretched like hours, until it returned, flapping hard and fast, squawking about three bodies unconscious and strewn near the west sector of Kuoh’s outer border. That was all the confirmation we needed.

We moved. No hesitation. I grabbed Rias’s hand, and the Peerage clustered in around us. In a blink, we were gone from the clubroom, and the world snapped back into place at the location the familiar had reported.

And what we saw made blood boil.

Irina, Kiba, and Saji were down—bruised, bloody, broken in ways that told a very particular story. These weren’t clean knockouts or precision strikes to incapacitate. No. These were punishment. Beatings. The kind that came with cruel intentions and just enough restraint to keep them breathing.

But what hit hardest wasn’t the sight. It was the air.

It burned. It hummed. That particular sting that clings to the back of your throat, thick with the taint of Holy Light. It lingered like old blood and old sins.

“Rias,” I said sharply, my voice carrying authority that wasn’t to be questioned. “Get them to Asia. Now.”

She nodded once, sharp and silent. She didn’t argue, didn’t ask. The others followed, lifting the three as gently as possible. Within seconds, they blinked out of the battlefield, off to safety.

And I was alone.

Good.

My boots crunched the gravel as I paced the scarred ground. [Covert Talent] whispered at the edge of my senses, layered with insights I didn’t consciously call for, and [Land Talent] grounded me in the subtle shifts of the terrain, feeding me data with every step.

This wasn’t a random attack.

This wasn’t done by a single person.

There were at least six distinct Holy Light signatures scattered across the area. Faint, but not gone. The lingering traces weren’t strong enough to identify individuals, but they screamed of Fallen Angels. Not low-tier ones, either. These were disciplined, precise. Experienced.

And I knew—knew—that Kokabiel had his hand in this. Freed was long gone. I'd sold that psychotic little shit more than a month ago. With him off the board, there shouldn't have been a reason for things to escalate this quickly. But apparently, Kokabiel had taken a different route.

Was he testing the waters?

Was he provoking a response?

Or was this simply him being the violent little bastard that he was?

The craters confirmed what I already suspected. Explosions. Controlled strikes. Magic-enhanced movement. The residual heat still rising off the stone wasn’t from mundane flames—it was from concentrated Light-based bombardment. Not something most exorcists could pull off. Even the ones who dabbled in Holy Items couldn’t manipulate the element itself like this. That was a Fallen trait.

I crouched near a crack in the earth, fingers brushing a melted patch of asphalt. It hissed under my touch, still warm. Still fresh. Someone had gone out of their way to hurt our people. Not kill. Not maim permanently. Just enough damage to send a message.

What message, though?

I exhaled slowly, standing up, my gaze drawn unbidden toward Kuoh Academy’s skyline in the distance. The heart of the chessboard. The center of this twisted little game.

"Well," I murmured, just to the wind. "Looks like you’ve started playing, Kokabiel."

Despite everything, I wasn’t afraid.

I’d worked my ass off to get where I am. While others played petty politics or relied on old bloodline pride, I clawed my way up, through sweat and blood and raw stubbornness. If Kokabiel was trying to start a war, then he’d find that Kuoh wasn’t some defenseless backwater town. Not anymore.

I was confident. Not arrogant, mind you. Confidence is built on preparation. Arrogance gets you killed. And me? I had contingencies layered in contingencies. I had power, and I had experience. I had allies. And I had one hell of a trump card tucked away for when shit really hit the fan.

Still, I wasn’t moving yet. Rushing in blind never ends well.

I took another slow step across the ruined clearing, my eyes flicking to every disturbance, every shadow. My mind catalogued the information automatically. The angle of the scorch marks, the direction of shattered debris, the intensity of residual mana—patterns forming a web only I could see, thanks to my [Talents].

And beneath it all, that smothering presence of Holy Light.

“So that’s your play,” I whispered, lips curling into a grin that didn’t reach my eyes. “You want to poke the beast and see what it’ll do.”

He should still be within [Tier 6], and that gave me room to breathe. [Tier 6] was broad—hell, some people in that category could level entire cities with a tantrum, while others needed prep time and positioning. He was dangerous, sure. But he wasn’t untouchable.

Neither was I.

The difference between us? I had patience.

And I had a reason to win that wasn’t about pride or proving a point. I had people. A family. One I built with my own hands. If he thought for a second I’d let him harm them without consequence, then he clearly hadn’t done his fucking homework.

My grip tightened on the trigger of my gun. I hadn’t drawn it yet. No reason to. Not yet.

But the time was coming.

Soon.

For now, I took a final sweeping look across the devastated field. The scars left in the earth, the broken trees, the scattered stones. A perfect little warning from an arrogant bastard who thought the world would bend to his will just because he threw a few feathers and flames around.

My voice was soft when I spoke again, but every word landed like a hammer.

"Let’s see how you’ll fare, motherfucker."

And then I turned away, steps quiet but certain, as the wind carried the scent of blood and ash into the distance. The next move was mine.

{Yuriko's POV}

"It's time."

Those two simple words from Rebecca cut through the rising tension like a blade. They weren’t loud, but they didn’t have to be. Every one of us in the room reacted to them—whether it was a subtle twitch, a breath held, or the sudden surge of pressure that accompanied her voice. The air grew heavy, taut like a drawn bowstring, humming with barely restrained power. Even the ground beneath our feet seemed to hum in response.

Rias was the first to move, her eyes narrowing as she straightened and barked out crisp orders to her Peerage. Each of them jumped into motion with the precision and unity only found in a group that had trained together under constant threat. Sona and her group weren’t far behind. Always the planner, she was already moving her pieces into position with the calm detachment of a seasoned strategist.

Then, that voice rang out—deep, thunderous, and utterly full of itself.

"Come out, whelps!"

My head turned, but only to see Rebecca’s reaction. Her body language remained perfectly composed. Her expression? One of mild interest at best. She didn’t flinch, didn’t stiffen—hell, she didn’t even blink. Instead, she just sniffed, as though the outburst was more annoying than dangerous.

"How is Alice?" she asked me, calm and unhurried, her voice carrying that peculiar quality she always had—straightforward, but with just enough ambiguity to slip through cracks like smoke.

I nodded and reached out through the mental link granted by the [Retinue], searching for our girl’s status. It came instantly—Alice was safe, still nestled within the manor and protected by Raynare, Kalawarner, and Mittelt. Asia and Ravel were there too, watching over her like their lives depended on it.

"Still secure. She's fine." I said softly.

Rebecca gave a small nod, her crimson eyes briefly flicking toward the window where the sunlight had already begun to dim under the gathering pressure of what was to come.

"Good. Now, let’s see how much bark that bastard really has."

Another explosion rocked the air, rattling the glass panes. Somewhere in Kuoh, a gym had just ceased to exist.

She didn’t even flinch.

"Saya, dear. If you will?"

At her request, Saya—our brilliant, cocky little fox—stepped forward. With a wave of her fingers, she summoned a glyph midair. The golden sigil shimmered to life, casting a faint light across the room as it expanded and projected a detailed, birds-eye view of Kuoh Academy.

The gym was gone. In its place? A smoking crater that still sizzled with dark energy. Several figures were already engaging near its edge—Rias’ Peerage, Griselda, and Xenovia, all bracing against the weight of Kokabiel’s presence.

"Rei, Kyoko, Saeko, and Rika are in place." I added. Their presences flared up in my mind through the [Retinue] link, their emotions focused, steady. No panic. No fear. Just readiness.

"They’ll make sure nothing happens to Rias and the others."

Rebecca nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Not proud, not smug—just curious. Calculating.

I didn’t understand why she was holding back. Why she hadn’t simply gone out there to annihilate Kokabiel with a flick of her hand like I knew she could. She had the power. We all did, in our own ways. And yet…

I looked into her eyes and saw it.

She was testing them.

Rias. Sona. All of them.

She wanted to see if they had grown—if our influence, our presence, had helped them evolve into something greater. She wanted to see how the board played out before flipping it over.

<Yuriko. We've got multiple Fallen incoming.>

Saeko’s voice echoed in my mind, cutting through my thoughts like a blade through silk. There was urgency in her tone, but not fear.

I relayed the message to Rebecca, and she just… hummed. A thoughtful little sound, as if she were deciding what wine to pair with dinner rather than handling an incoming enemy wave.

Her gaze shifted toward us. "Yuriko, Shizuka. Make sure they don’t mess with Sona and the others, would you?"

That was all it took.

I felt a smile curve across my lips. A glance at Shizuka showed her mirroring my grin, the spark in her eyes unmistakable. We had both been waiting for this. Weeks of training. Weeks of holding back. Weeks of friendly spars where we were forced to pull our punches so we wouldn’t break anything—or anyone.

Now?

Now we could stretch our wings.

"With pleasure." I said.

Shizuka just giggled in that lilting, deceptively innocent way she always had. But I could feel it. The coiling energy around her. The presence of something otherworldly, elegant and horrifying all at once—Sesshouin Kiara’s legacy danced just beneath her skin.

We moved in tandem. Out of the ORC Club and into the sky, carried by the blessings and wings granted by our [Templates] and race. The city stretched out below us, familiar and yet somehow small now. Power stirred in the air—ours, theirs, Kokabiel’s.

We landed between Sona’s group and the approaching cluster of Fallen Angels. They were lesser beings, arrogant in the way only cannon fodder ever could be. Their sneers faded quickly when they got a good look at us.

"Back off." I told them, voice sharp, edged with divine authority.

They didn’t listen.

They never do.

Shizuka moved first. Her body shimmered, wrapped in silk-like energy that pulsed and stretched as she unfurled her power. The look on her face was rapturous—beautiful and terrifying. When she struck, it wasn’t with fists, but with a wave of corrupted pleasure so intense the closest three Angels collapsed midair, moaning in confusion as their bodies convulsed in bliss.

I followed, shifting forms—not fully, but enough to let the echoes of Tiamat surge through me. My tail lashed, my wings spread wide, and I brought a wave of primordial force crashing down on them like a living tsunami. Three more were sent spiraling into the streets below, screaming as their bodies warped under the sheer pressure of my essence.

Sona’s group stared, caught between awe and horror.

"Hold your positions!" Sona ordered, snapping them out of it.

We kept the Fallen at bay, not letting even one get within range of her forces. It wasn’t hard. Most of them broke at the first taste of true power. Still, we didn’t chase. We weren’t here to slaughter them.

We were shields.

Behind us, the fight between Rias’ group and Kokabiel had escalated. His wings were flared, eyes wild with fury and madness. Lightning danced along his arms, and the sky cracked with thunder. He was toying with them, testing them—just like Rebecca was.

But he wasn’t careful.

Rebecca watched from the manor rooftop, arms folded, expression unreadable. She made no move to interfere, even as Griselda blocked a bolt of searing energy meant for Rias.

She wasn’t worried.

Neither was I.

Not yet.

But still… I couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this was just a prelude.

The real storm hadn’t even started.

And Rebecca? She was waiting for the perfect moment to bare her fangs.

{Rebecca's POV}

I watched through Saya's spell, letting my gaze flicker over the swirling images that hovered above the conjured sigil. The magic shimmered faintly in the air—hazy, yet stable. Saya, ever brilliant, had responded the moment Kokabiel arrived by initiating her scrying spell and anchoring it to the battlefield's location. A smart move, one I’d instructed her to take the moment our perimeter alarms flared to life. From there, I gave swift orders to my Peerage, each of them taking positions as dictated.

Saeko, Rei, Kyoko, and Rika had been instructed to watch over Rias, her Peerage, and the two exorcists clinging tightly to her coattails. Their task wasn’t to intervene—unless absolutely necessary. They stood back, ever watchful, and thankfully only had to engage in minimal ways. As expected, Kokabiel wasn’t lifting a finger. He seemed almost amused, lounging in the air like some smug god, content to let the summoned Cerberuses—or was it Cerberi? Fuck if I know—do all the dirty work. Meanwhile, Valper Galeli and his collection of exorcists were elbow-deep in their twisted little ritual at the edge of the field, untouched and undisturbed, as though cloaked in apathy.

Could I have stepped in? Absolutely. But I wanted to see Rias’s growth. Not just in her own power, but in how she rallied her Peerage. How they functioned as a unit, how they supported and covered each other. That was worth more than intervening to save face or flex my own strength. Growth required struggle. Especially in a world like this.

During the fray, both Kiba and Irina had stirred from their downtime and rejoined the battlefield, weaving through the chaos like wolves scenting blood. Their presence added force and momentum to Rias’s side, but still, Kokabiel remained utterly still. That bastard had patience, I’ll give him that.

Just beyond the school grounds, a separate struggle played out. Sona and her entire Peerage stood their ground, forming a wide perimeter barrier with intricate magic circles that shimmered like stained glass under a darkened sky. Their barrier held in stray attacks, preventing collateral damage, and contained the wild, crackling pressure radiating from Kokabiel’s presence. It was functional, solid, and showed why Sona was someone not to be taken lightly.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t managed to grab Sona for a conversation about our engagement party due to all this shit erupting. Typical. Another delay. I’ll be reminding her about it soon enough—probably over wine or blood or whatever the fuck we’re drinking once this settles.

Protecting the barrier holders were Yuriko and Shizuka. Yuriko, elegant and terrifying as ever, conjured great, winged beasts of ink and blood, launching them through the air like hounds from a nightmare. The creatures shredded through smaller groups of Fallen Angels attempting to flank the defense perimeter. Shizuka, for all her sunny disposition, was laying down mental debuffs that had the Fallen Angels twitching and losing cohesion, her aura subtly lacing into their minds and scraping at their Karma. Her influence wasn’t overwhelming—it was surgical. Controlled. Beautiful, in that quiet, insidious way.

"The bastard’s still not moving." Dee grumbled beside me, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the shimmering vision of Kokabiel. Her tone was clipped with irritation. She leaned forward slightly, hands perched on her hips, her wings twitching in restrained anticipation.

I hummed a note of agreement, not taking my eyes off the image. "It’s always the ones who wait that’re the most dangerous," I said, the words slipping off my tongue like silk soaked in steel. Not a lie. Not even a hint of exaggeration. "He’s waiting for something—or someone."

Dee snorted, pacing a little. I didn’t bother to stop her. She was like a caged beast right now, adrenaline ready to spill over. But my focus drifted back to the battlefield.

Suddenly, there it was—Kiba. He moved with new purpose, his body glowing with a sudden, sharp light. And then it hit. Balance Breaker. A soft whistle escaped me as his aura exploded outward in a mix of holy and demonic energies. I hadn’t expected him to reach that state this early, let alone so smoothly. But hell, surprises like these kept things interesting.

Griselda, not too far from Kiba’s position, caught the shift. Her eyes widened briefly—just a flicker—but she kept silent, face cool as she decapitated one of the many Cerberuses bearing down on her.

Then, a sudden shift in energy.

A massive pillar of light erupted toward the sky like a damn spear of judgment, parting clouds with the force of a divine sledgehammer. The battlefield paused. Even Kokabiel tilted his head slightly. All eyes moved to the source.

"So, they’ve done it." I murmured. The words carried more weight than tone. I raised an eyebrow at the sight of Valper Galeli standing amidst a ring of desiccated corpses—stray exorcists drained like overripe fruit. He looked younger now. Stronger. Not strong enough to matter, but still.

Apparently, in Freed’s absence, the lunatic had used the life essence of those exorcists to fuse the Fragments of Excalibur and rejuvenate himself in the process. Smart. Desperate. Insane. All at once.

Valper began his monologue, of course. These types always did. Something about righteousness, divine vengeance, some crap about his god-given mission. Typical delusional trash. Then Kiba lunged, cutting through the distance like a bolt. The pillar of light faded as he closed in. Valper only now noticed the shift in Kiba—noticed what that fusion of holy and demonic energy meant.

And that’s when he started to spiral.

He shouted, face contorting in fury and panic. "Impossible! This should not be possible! This should not be possible unless… unless God is dead!"

The words landed like a nuclear bomb.

Everything. Stopped.

The fighting paused, as if time hiccupped. Even the Cerberuses hesitated, snarling low but no longer advancing. Kokabiel didn’t silence Valper like he had in the original version of events. No, he let him speak. And then he laughed. Not a chuckle. A laugh. Deep, rumbling, amused. The kind of sound that you only heard from someone who had seen too much and didn’t give a single fuck anymore.

Interesting indeed.

My fingers twitched, curling at my side. I didn’t move. Didn’t speak further. There was a heavy stillness as I watched the battlefield unfold beneath Saya’s spell. Even with all the chaos, all the noise, the revelation Valper had just screamed now echoed louder than any explosion.

Kiba wasn’t slowing down though. He drove his blade into Valper’s side, silencing the monologue in one clean stroke. No mercy. No hesitation.

In the corner of my mind, I could feel Saya’s tension rising, her hands twitching subtly as her magic pulsed faster. She was absorbing every detail, calculating possibilities. I didn’t need to look at her to know it. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to miss a thing.

"This changes the board for them." I finally murmured, tone deceptively light. Words, chosen carefully. Not a lie. Not even close.

"It always does." Dee replied, stepping beside me again. Her voice had that same edge—ready to tear through anyone who got in her way.

But neither of us moved. Not yet.

This wasn’t the moment.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

{Xenovia's POV}

Lies! Slander! Such blasphemy is too much, even for you, Valper!

The words tore from my throat in a furious scream, my voice cracking with disbelief and fury. I could scarcely believe the venom that had spilled from his lips just moments before. God... dead? The very idea made my skin crawl. Impossible. He was the Almighty, the Creator, the One Above All. Death? That word did not apply to Him. He stood beyond such limitations.

"Raaahhh!" I screamed, muscles tensed, as Kiba and I launched ourselves at the bastard in unison. We came at him from opposite sides, a pincer movement that should have cornered any normal man—but Valper was no longer normal. Whatever vile heresy he’d used to roll back the years had granted him more than youth. He was leaner, faster, stronger. His body moved like a shadow slipping between cracks of light, avoiding our blades with barely a breath to spare.

But even with his newfound agility, he was no swordsman. His dodges were frantic, relying on instinct rather than skill. The only reason his head wasn’t already rolling was because he was as slippery as an eel bathed in oil.

"But that’s the only explanation!" Valper shouted, his voice rising with manic certainty. "It was already theorized—"

I slashed again, a horizontal arc meant to cleave through his midsection. He twisted just out of reach.

"—that Balance Breakers were never supposed to exist! A glitch! A flaw in the Divine System! But then this—this unholy union of Holy and Demonic energies? That’s not just a malfunction! That’s a catastrophe that could only exist if—if the one who made the system isn’t around to patch it!"

I roared and drove my sword forward in a vicious thrust. He caught the blade on a twisted metal pipe he’d grabbed from the debris, steel shrieking against steel.

"Tell me, Lady Griselda! It’s true, isn’t it!?" he demanded, turning suddenly toward my mother.

My blood froze. My limbs turned to stone. I turned to her, wooden and numb, waiting—begging—for her to denounce him. For her to laugh and spit and call him the lunatic he clearly was. But she said nothing. No words of denial, no shouts of defiance. She continued fighting the Cerberus without sparing him even a glance.

The silence hit me harder than any weapon ever could.

My knees buckled. I collapsed, sword clattering beside me.

"Hahahaha!!" Valper’s laughter echoed through the battlefield like a madman’s song.

My faith—everything I had ever known, ever believed, ever lived for—shattered. All of it... a lie?

God was supposed to be eternal. Unchanging. Alive.

But if Mother wouldn’t deny it—if even she…

"Seriously, Xenovia, dear~. Now’s not the time for an existential crisis. You, too, Irina."

A warm, firm hand settled on my shoulder, grounding me, steadying me like an anchor dropped in a storm.

My eyes flicked up, dazed, and met hers.

Rebecca.

The Devil.

The strange woman who looked nothing like the noble Devils I had been taught to fear. Her wild hair was the color of leaves with morning dew, eyes glinting with a sharp kindness, an almost playful cunning behind their glow. She was clothed like no one else here, not in ceremonial robes or tactical gear, but something caught between functional and rebellious—an armor of expression rather than protection.

She looked at me, not as prey or pawn, but as a person.

The Devil who had fed us. Not just with food—though her cooking was undeniably sinful—but with warmth. With comfort. With presence.

She always made sure we ate until we were full, even when we protested.

She gave us rooms, clean and safe, beds soft enough to make me weep from the unfamiliar luxury. We weren’t prisoners or pets. We were guests.

She made sure we slept. She even insisted we laugh.

Even now, with the battlefield still howling in chaos and smoke curling into the heavens, she knelt beside me, unbothered by the blood or the dirt, her hands warm and steady.

And when she spoke—when she looked at me—there was something strange about her voice. Not in sound, but in the shape of her words. They danced around the truth like a clever song, never false, but never cruel either. It was like she didn’t know how to lie… or maybe didn’t care to.

"You’re still here," she said softly, her fingers brushing a lock of hair from my face. "Still breathing. Still you. That means you’ve got something to hold onto. Even when the ground crumbles beneath you."

"But if… if He’s truly gone… then what’s left?" I asked, the question breaking out of me in a cracked whisper.

"Maybe," she said, voice as gentle as falling ash, "what’s left is the part of you that kept going. The part that wants to do right even when no one’s watching."

"That’s not enough." I choked.

"Then take more," she replied simply. "Take it from those who offer it. From friends. From family. Even from strangers who cook you miso ramen and don’t ask for anything in return."

The corner of her lips quirked up in the smallest smile.

And in that moment, I broke.

I leaned into her arms without even thinking. The sobs hit me hard and fast, my chest shaking as the pain poured out. The confusion, the fear, the betrayal—it all spilled into her.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t let go. Rebecca just held me.

No sermons. No scriptures. Just presence.

Irina joined us moments later, her hand hesitating before settling gently on my back. Her eyes were red, her lips trembling. But she didn’t cry. Not yet. She just watched me crumble and stayed close.

Rebecca looked at her, and something unspoken passed between them. Understanding. Acceptance. Maybe even grief.

Behind us, Valper ranted on. His words were just noise now. Mad laughter and twisted logic. I didn’t care. I didn’t even hear him.

Griselda was still fighting. Still silent.

I would ask her later. I would demand the truth, scream it if I had to. But not now.

Now, I could only cry. And in Rebecca’s arms, I finally felt like that was okay.

She didn’t try to fix it. She just let me break.

"We don’t have to know everything right now," Rebecca said quietly. "It’s okay to be lost for a bit."

"But I was a warrior of God," I said, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. "How do I fight for something that might not even exist anymore?"

"You fight for what’s in front of you," she said simply. "You fight for Irina. For Griselda. For the ones who can’t. For the people who still believe in something. Even if that ‘something’ is just you."

I looked at her, trying to understand how a Devil could speak like that. But she only smiled.

"Belief doesn’t need a name or a face. Just a reason. Find yours, and follow it."

Irina nodded slowly beside me.

And I realized… maybe the Almighty was gone. Maybe not. But the world was still moving.

And Rebecca… she was not the Devil I’d been warned about.

She was strange, irreverent, unpredictable—but never cruel. Her kindness was sharp, as if it dared you to question it. Her voice didn’t speak lies, but wrapped truths in riddles and velvet.

She scared me more than Valper ever could, but in a way that made me feel alive.

And for now, that was enough.

{Rebecca's POV}

When I saw Xenovia and Irina break in the middle of battle, their spirits crumbling under the weight of truth, I felt something deep inside me twist. The battlefield roared with chaos, but the sight of those two collapsing—faith shattered, eyes wide with despair—made everything else fade into white noise. I couldn't ignore them. I wouldn’t.

I left the meeting room without a word, vanishing from the space with a [Recall] to Saeko’s side. She was the closest to their position, cleaving her way through abominations with that grace-tinged lethality I’d grown so fond of. My voice cut through the battlefield like a blade, sharp and direct. "Saeko, Rei, Kyoko, Rika—go help Shizuka and Yuriko deal with the Fallen outside the barrier." They didn’t hesitate. Trust flowed between us without the need for details. I also sent a mental nudge to Saya—cold, precise, and threaded with urgency. She replied with a flash of acknowledgement through the [Link], and I turned away.

The scent of smoke, the thunder of explosions, the screaming of steel on bone—it all dulled when I focused on them. Xenovia was on her knees, her sword discarded like it weighed a thousand tons. Irina stood just behind her, trembling, eyes brimming. They looked like ghosts who hadn’t realized they’d died yet.

And then came the Cerberus.

It lunged at Irina, jaws wide with that otherworldly growl of hunger.

I moved before thinking.

One blink, and I was there, yanking Irina into my arms as my boot crushed the hound’s skull into the pavement. The force of it exploded the head into blackened gore, but I barely noticed. My arms tightened around the brunette exorcist as I carried her over to Xenovia.

Two women. Two broken hearts. And one me.

I knelt beside them both, cradling Irina first, then gathering Xenovia close as well. They didn’t resist. Their bodies folded into mine, trembling like leaves in a thunderstorm.

Their tears hit my skin like molten iron. Their sobs echoed louder than bombs.

What else could I do but hold them?

What else but speak truths that might help them hold on?

"The world hasn’t ended yet, loves," I murmured, brushing sweat and ash from their foreheads. "Even if He isn’t watching anymore, you’re still here. Still fighting."

Then, as if summoned by my peace, a voice like grinding stone and smug arrogance cut through the smoke.

"Finally! The mysterious Lady Glaysa-Labolas shows herself!"

Kokabiel.

I raised my head, eyes narrowing as I stared at the arrogant jackass flapping in the sky like some overgrown crow looking for roadkill. Really? Now?

"Not now, birdbrain," I muttered, clicking my tongue. "I’m busy."

With a flick of thought, I sent a command through [Administrative Privilege]. Dee, lounging in the ORC Club like a bored beast, perked up at the message and launched herself into the sky with terrifying grace.

"Truly! You are an elu—"

Kokabiel’s speech was violently cut short as Dee slammed into him like a missile, her fist buried in his face. The impact echoed like thunder.

Good girl.

I didn’t even look back. I was still holding two crying women. Priorities.

Through another mental thread, I reached out to Raynare, Kalawarner, and Mittelt. I hadn’t forgotten one of my [Additional Objectives], and they were key to it. But I wasn’t going to throw them into a battlefield like this—not until I was sure it wouldn’t get them shredded.

Irina whimpered softly in my arms. Xenovia’s fists clutched my jacket like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality. And maybe it was.

I sighed, low and quiet, and pressed my forehead to Xenovia’s.

"I didn’t mean for the truth to hit this hard. I thought... maybe knowing would set you free. Get you to think clearly. But pain’s a stubborn bastard, and freedom tastes like ash when the chains were all you ever knew."

Xenovia didn’t answer, just buried her face deeper into my shoulder.

I stroked her hair slowly, deliberately. Letting my voice soften.

"It’s okay to fall apart. It’s okay to scream. You’re allowed to hate me for knowing and not telling you sooner. But I’m not going to let you drown in it. Not now. Not ever."

Irina’s arms found their way around my waist, clinging tight. Her face was damp against my side, silent but present. Her pain was quieter than Xenovia’s, but no less deep.

I kissed their foreheads in turn, careful and reverent.

"You’ve been taught to serve something you never got to see," I whispered. "And when it died, no one told you. That’s not just cruel. That’s fucking evil. And you deserved better."

Their sobs began to soften, like the eye of a storm rolling in. Just a moment of calm. But sometimes, that’s all it takes to survive.

Kokabiel and Dee traded blasts overhead, their skirmish shaking the city, but I kept my focus on the two women in my lap. My arms were full. My heart, too.

I remembered the day I first welcomed them into my home. They looked at me like I was the enemy, like my horns and tail meant I had fangs dripping with sin. And I didn’t blame them. But over time, that look faded. They’d tasted the food I cooked. Slept in beds I bought. Watched me argue with Saya over nothing just to make her laugh.

They’d stopped flinching. And started smiling.

And now they were breaking.

So, I would hold them until they put themselves back together. Or until the world stopped spinning. Whichever came first.

Eventually, Xenovia stirred. Her voice came out scratchy, broken, like it had been through a meat grinder and spat back out.

"Why? Why didn’t anyone tell us? Why lie?"

I didn’t look away.

"Because belief makes good soldiers. And broken truths make poor ones."

Her brows knit together. I could see the wheels turning.

"So what do we believe in now?" Irina asked quietly.

"Each other," I said, without hesitation. "You start there. You build on that. You decide what matters. And if you’re ever unsure… come to me. I won’t promise heaven, but I won’t give you hell either."

They didn’t answer. But they didn’t need to.

The way they leaned into me again—less desperate, more certain—said enough.

I glanced toward the sky. Dee had Kokabiel on the defensive now, the Fallen scrambling for distance, hurling bolts of light like a child throwing tantrums.

I could’ve joined the fight. I should have.

But I didn’t.

Because these two needed me more.

I’d get to that feathered freak later.

Right now, I had promises to keep.

And wounds to soothe.

The war could wait.

{Ddraig's POV}

“Ah. The Red Dragon Empress! What, your King’s too scared to face me, so she sent you?”

The bastard practically oozed arrogance, every word he spat laced with mockery and smugness. Pale skin, silver hair that glimmered under the moonlight, wings stretched wide like some kind of gothic peacock—this Kokabiel fucker really thought he was hot shit.

He looked like the vampire stereotype some edgy teen would dream up after one too many monster romance novels. I could almost taste the self-importance rolling off him. And yet, despite all that flair and dramatics, he hadn’t even scratched the surface of Rebecca’s radar. Poor guy didn’t even realize how irrelevant he really was.

I exhaled through my nose, folding my arms under my chest. “Nah,” I replied, letting the word hang there like a guillotine over his pride. “You’re just not high enough on her list of priorities.”

His cocky grin faltered. I didn’t stop. “Right now? She’s busy making sure two women are okay. That’s more important than your melodramatic bullshit.”

Confusion spread across his face like a slow crack in glass. He turned his head, and sure enough, there was Rebecca in the distance, gently cradling Xenovia and Irina like something out of a Renaissance painting. Their cries were muffled against her chest, her arms wrapped tight around them, not letting them fall apart.

Kokabiel blinked. “Seriously?”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. It came out dry and sharp, like broken glass underfoot. “Yeah. Rebecca would always put a woman first before anything else.”

The line had a truthweight to it. Not just some flirty banter or posturing. It was a declaration. One that rang with a deeper promise.

He looked at me like I’d grown a second head, probably trying to decipher if I was fucking with him. I wasn’t. Not even a little.

I sent a jab toward his temple before he could make another dumbass comment. It landed clean, knocking his head to the side. His body staggered from the hit, but he didn’t fall. Still, his stance wavered. He didn’t quite get what I meant, and I didn’t expect him to. But his confusion bought me a bit more time.

He recovered quickly, eyes now blazing. “What is her problem!? I’m here, threatening to reignite the Great War, and she’s more focused on some women!?”

He flung a massive spear of light into the air. Thing was easily the size of a fucking house. With a quick flick of my wrist and a Boosted punch, I shattered it into light dust before it could even start its descent. Didn’t even blink while doing it.

“Yep.” I said, as casually as commenting on the weather.

His face twisted, fury painting over that pretty-boy facade. Guess he wasn’t used to being ignored.

I smirked and surged forward, activating another [Boost]. My body roared with power, muscles thrumming under my skin as the energy quadrupled my strength again. Kokabiel launched another barrage of spears, hurling them like javelins made of vengeance and desperation. I dodged two, blocked one with a forearm, and shattered a fourth mid-air with a quick uppercut.

He moved back, fast, trying to gain space, but I was already on him. My fist snapped forward, targeting his solar plexus. He twisted just enough to avoid the brunt of the impact, but my punch still sent him flying sideways—straight into a red ripple in the air.

A roar of crackling energy met him, and the spear of Power of Destruction clipped his side. He grunted in pain, tumbling mid-air, wings flapping wildly to steady himself. A burn scorched across his ribs, the remnants of Rias’s signature attack marking his body. Shame it didn’t go deeper.

“Do not—” he started, raising his voice like he was about to monologue.

I wasn’t interested. My foot shot up in a high kick aimed for his temple. He dodged, just barely, but I followed it up instantly with a left hook to his shoulder. I heard something snap.

He snarled, teeth bared. “You’ll pay for that, you feral little—”

“Feral? Sweetheart, you don’t even know what wild looks like.” I shot back, circling him now. He was slowing down. All that theatrical bullshit might’ve made for a good entrance, but it didn’t hold up well under pressure.

He charged, bringing with him a storm of spears that rained down like divine judgment. I weaved through them, catching one mid-flight and snapping it in half with sheer force. Energy pulsed around my fists, growing denser, louder. The air shimmered with the heat of raw, condensed power.

A spear grazed my cheek. Another exploded behind me, tossing rubble into the air. Dust clouded the battlefield, but I could still see him—barely.

He launched into the air, hands glowing with more divine light, and began chanting. Something big. Something dumb.

I let him.

He needed the illusion of control to feel strong. That was the thing about fuckers like him—they needed an audience.

I gave myself another [Boost], feeling the Red pulsate in my core, strengthening everything. My arms glowed faintly, sparks jumping from my knuckles. Then I sprinted forward, slipping through the cloud like a bullet through mist.

Kokabiel’s chant ended with a scream as he hurled a massive sphere of compact light toward me, almost sun-like in brightness.

I didn’t flinch.

I leapt into the air, spun mid-flight, and kicked the orb back at him. He barely had time to widen his eyes before it exploded against his own barrier, knocking him backwards.

“Still think you’re the main character, huh?” I taunted, landing back on the cracked stone.

He coughed, blood trailing down his lip. His expression was pure rage. And a little panic.

Another flurry of spears, faster this time. Wild, frantic. I caught one and drove it into the ground. The rest I batted away or dodged, each movement refined, efficient. No wasted effort. He was unraveling, and I was just getting started.

He tried teleporting behind me.

I felt the displacement and turned, fist ready—but he blinked away again, desperate now.

“Quit dancing and fight, coward.” I growled.

Then I heard her.

<Okay. The girls stopped crying. It's time for us to switch.>

Rebecca’s voice in my mind was calm. Steady. Like the eye of a storm.

I grinned, stepping back just as Kokabiel formed another oversized spear, this one humming with sickly divine intent. He reared back, ready to throw—

—and that’s when she appeared.

Right in front of me.

No sound. No flash.

Just presence.

Rebecca materialized like death with a heartbeat. Guns drawn. Arms relaxed. Calm and composed and fucking lethal. Her crimson eyes locked onto Kokabiel’s, and the way she moved... it wasn’t just battle readiness. It was predatory.

Her pistols—sleek, custom pieces glinting under the battlefield moonlight—aimed squarely at his eyes. No words. No threats.

Just that unreadable expression she wore when someone had already signed their death certificate.

The air stilled.

And Kokabiel froze.

It wasn’t my fight anymore.

It was hers now.

Chapter Text

{Rebecca's POV}

Once Xenovia and Irina managed to calm the fuck down enough to retreat to safety, I rolled my shoulders, cracked my neck, and called my guns. They shimmered into existence with a familiar hum, [Apported] right into my hands. The twin golden Desert Eagles felt like home, humming with latent magic, each rune on the barrel alive with purpose.

Without wasting a second, I stepped through space and appeared right in front of Dee—between her and Kokabiel. The bastard’s smug expression faltered, confusion flashing in his eyes as he barely registered me before I pulled both triggers.

Pop-pop-pop—nonstop. Two whole magazines unloaded right into his face. The impact forced his head back, golden shells clinking against the ruined stone underfoot. He roared, pain etched deep in every vibration of his voice, but even enchanted rounds like mine were still a far cry from killing a Cadre. Wounding? Oh, absolutely. But killing? Not quite yet.

As soon as I sensed the holy backlash radiating from him, I flared my wings and shot upward, giving Dee a clean path. She followed without hesitation, her gauntlet already crackling with raw force, and with a single mighty punch, she drove her fist into his smug face. The crack that followed was like thunder echoing through the battlefield.

But it still wasn't enough.

Kokabiel stumbled, light pouring from him in blinding arcs. Dee and I separated, giving ourselves room, as something massive began to swell from his core—a giant sphere of Holy Light expanding outward with reckless intent. My grip tightened on my guns. The heat from the spell was tangible, the very air sizzling with divine charge.

"Tch." I clicked my tongue, watching the flare bloom. I stayed just outside its radius, wings spread wide, eyes narrowed.

Then the light died down, and there he was, still standing, still grinning like a psychopath. The next second, he conjured a massive Spear of Light, its edges jagged and humming with enough energy to flatten a city block.

"Insolent fools!" he shouted, lifting it overhead. With a dramatic heave, he hurled it toward us.

Too slow.

With a muttered chant under my breath, I raised my hand and let the cold take hold. From my palm, chains of shimmering ice burst forth, wrapping around the projectile mid-air. The resistance was brutal—the divine energy tried to burn through my magic, but I gritted my teeth and pushed harder.

"You're not the only one with flair." I murmured, lips curling into a grin.

With a sharp twist of my arm, I spun on my heel, using the coiled chains like a sling, redirecting the holy spear back toward its sender. I could’ve dodged it, sure. But that might’ve let it breach Sona’s barrier—or worse, hurt some poor civvies. And I’m many things, but reckless with collateral? Not today.

Kokabiel’s eyes widened when he realized the spear was coming back.

He flared his wings, trying to escape, but Dee was already there. She flashed behind him, arms locking around his shoulders. Her strength was monstrous, her armor holding fast as he tried and failed to wriggle free.

"Let. Go. Of. Me!" he snarled, trying to slice her with his wings. They scraped against her armor, pathetic.

Right then, the redirected spear struck.

There was a pulse—a sharp, clean impact—and the next moment, Kokabiel was hurtling downwards, trailing light and blood. Dee [Apported] to my side mid-fall, her grin feral. I watched, silent, as he crashed into the earth below like a meteor, the shockwave toppling trees and shaking the air. The explosion was brilliant—light and debris painting the sky in holy fury.

Once the dust settled, he was still standing.

Barely.

But standing.

I tilted my head, licking my lips as my magic surged again. Without fanfare, I summoned a glyph under his feet. A sinuous water serpent surged up from the circle, mouth wide, fangs gleaming. It struck like a bullet, slamming him into the sky.

Kokabiel retaliated instantly, surrounding himself in another searing sphere of Holy Light, obliterating my construct.

That was fine.

Because the real trap was above.

Another glyph had been waiting up there, already charged and silent. A second serpent, larger and angrier, exploded from the top circle and crashed into him from above, dragging him back down in a satisfying arc.

And I didn’t stop.

Chains of ice burst from new glyphs around me. I shaped them into swords—long, elegant, cold enough to fog the air. With a simple motion, I launched them like guided missiles.

They struck true.

Each blade drove into Kokabiel’s flesh with a delicious wet crunch. Shoulder. Thigh. Abdomen. Side. One lodged into his wing, making him shriek.

"This is easier than imagined." I said aloud, almost surprised at myself. I hadn’t even broken a sweat. My breathing was steady, and my heart rate hadn’t spiked once.

Was I really this strong now?

Or had I just been inflating this guy’s reputation in my head all this time?

"En—enough..."

His voice trembled from the crater, weak and cracked. I could just barely hear it over the hum of my own magic.

I floated down, eyeing him. The blades still jutted from his body like some fucked-up sculpture.

"Yep. Easier than expected." I muttered again.

Or maybe—maybe it was because Dee had [Transferred] her Boosts to me earlier. Four times my original strength. An absolute cheat. It was probably that.

Still.

As I watched him struggle to breathe, to stand, to even glare at me properly, I realized something cold and strange settled inside me.

I’ve run out of fucks to give.

And it didn’t even feel wrong.

But even so... I wasn’t ready to end it yet. Not like this. Not without a little more flair.

More glyphs lit up around me, like stars coming to life. The scent of ozone mixed with the crisp sharpness of ice, water gathering around me in streams and spirals. Kokabiel was strong, no doubt, but he was faltering—cracking.

"You should’ve brought backup." I murmured, raising one golden Deagle, the barrel glowing faintly blue now.

He groaned in response, barely able to move. His once-proud wings now drooped, pierced and singed. His clothes torn, skin marred by divine backlash and elemental scarring.

"Still alive, huh?"

Another ice serpent slithered around me, waiting for my signal. I wasn’t just taunting him—I was measuring, calculating. His power was waning, but not gone. His arrogance made him sloppy. And me? I didn't let myself stagnate.

I didn't need to boast to throw off an enemy. I just told the truth in the most inconvenient way possible.

The wind shifted as Dee landed beside me, arms crossed, face unreadable.

"You done playing with your food?" she asked.

"Just getting to the good part." I answered.

Kokabiel coughed, light flickering weakly in his palm as he tried to conjure one more weapon.

I stepped forward, golden barrels aimed right at his chest.

"I wouldn’t." I warned him. Not a threat. Just fact.

He paused, eyes burning with spite.

The moment lingered.

And then he dropped the light.

The glyphs around us pulsed in rhythm. Not to kill. Not yet. Just to remind him.

This battlefield? Was ours now.

And every second he stayed breathing was because we allowed it.

{Raynare's POV}

The moment Rebecca's voice echoed through our mental link, a voice that thrummed with a dominance so absolute it sent shivers down my spine, I didn’t hesitate. I gave a silent nod to Kalawarner and Mittelt, entrusting the safety of Asia, Alice, and Ravel to their care. My gaze lingered on the trio for only a second longer before I activated [Apport], the power washing over me like a wave as I vanished from the rooftop and reappeared at Rebecca’s side.

The world snapped into focus, and my breath caught in my throat. What lay before me was a fucking masterpiece.

Kokabiel, one of the Cadre—those legendary monsters we all heard about, feared, respected—was nothing more than a broken, bloodied wreck. His once-proud form now resembled a grotesque pin-cushion, impaled on jagged spires of condensed magic and warped steel. His wings were shredded, his body twitching with the spasms of a man already half-dead.

And standing above him like a goddess of ruin and wrath incarnate, was Rebecca.

No, not just standing—she loomed, power crackling off her in waves that distorted the very air. Her silver hair glowed with ambient chakra, her eyes glowing that wild neon hue I’d come to worship, her lithe, muscular frame dusted with blood that wasn’t hers. She didn’t just defeat him—she obliterated him. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

The rush that slammed into me had nothing to do with Kokabiel's corpse. My whole body ignited with heat, with aching, pulsing, raw arousal. My knees felt weak and my cock throbbed, hardening painfully against my tight combat suit. I had known she was strong. I had believed it. But to see it—this? This was proof. Divine proof.

And satans forgive me, it broke me.

I let out a needy whimper, stepped forward, and crushed my lips against hers. Rebecca caught me instantly, one strong arm wrapping around my waist as her other hand gave my ass a playful, claiming squeeze. Her tongue swirled with mine, dancing, teasing, dominating—and I moaned. Moaned, like some desperate, needy thing, because I was. I could drown in this. I would.

I could taste the fight on her lips—iron and ozone and victory. Her kiss was a storm, and I let it sweep me away, pressing my body flush against hers. I felt like I was melting, like I’d burst into flames if she let go.

"Heh. Not that I mind, darling~, but we don't have much time now~." Rebecca purred against my lips, the words rolling out smooth and smoky. There was mischief there, and fondness, but I could hear it—the warning underneath.

Reluctantly, I pulled back, panting, eyes flicking towards the mental link. Voices were flooding through—reports, cries, strategy updates. The White Dragon Emperor. He was here. Our allies were fighting him.

But all I could think about was her. Her voice. Her strength. Her truth.

I turned back to Kokabiel, my former superior. My tormentor. The bastard who played me like a piece on a board, who promised me promotion and status only to toss me aside like garbage. And now, look at him. Groaning. Pathetic. Broken.

"Oh, how the mighty have fucking fallen." I muttered, lips curling into a cruel grin. I didn’t bother speaking to him. He wasn’t worth it.

Months. Months of training. Of sweat, blood, humiliation. Of watching Rebecca tear through enemies with ease while I clawed and scraped for every ounce of power. Of willingly shedding my old self, piece by piece, until all that remained was a fanatic willing to crawl through hell just to kneel at her feet.

I raised my hand, [Mana Manipulation] swirling to life as I gathered it into my palm. Dark mana crackled, volatile and pure, and I shaped it into a wicked blade. Not elegant. Not refined. Brutal.

"This is for lying to me," I said, voice low, steady. "For making me think I needed you."

Rebecca didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her hand came down lightly on my shoulder, and I shuddered. That simple touch was everything. It was permission. It was affirmation.

Then, the mental link flared again—and I heard her. Dee, the Red Dragon Empress. My sister-in-blood now. [Boost]. The surge hit me like lightning. My power doubled, and I laughed. Gods, I laughed. It was wild, unhinged, loud enough to echo through the ruins of the battlefield.

“Burn in hell, Kokabiel.”

With a scream of effort and delight, I brought the sword down, cleaving through what remained of him. His body split in a spray of darkness and gore, his spirit scattering with a sound like shattering glass. Kokabiel, the Cadre, was no more.

I stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide, and only one thought echoed in my skull:

She is everything.

Rebecca. My salvation. My goddess. My reason.

I turned back to her, hands trembling. Not from exhaustion. From awe. From the all-consuming, soul-wrecking adoration I could no longer deny.

“I love you.” I said, and it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t shy. It was true. It burned its way out of me.

Rebecca tilted her head slightly, and her grin widened—just a bit. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just amused, affectionate.

“Yeah? Good. I’d be real fucking annoyed if you didn’t.”

And that was it. That was all I needed.

Everything in me surged. My devotion, my lust, my loyalty. I dropped to one knee before her, blade gone, hands pressed against the ground. Not as an act of submission, but of reverence. Of understanding. I wasn’t her equal. I didn’t want to be.

“I live for you,” I whispered, throat tight. “And I’ll die for you. Again and again and again, until nothing’s left of me but your name in my soul.”

She reached down and cupped my chin, lifting my gaze to hers. Her expression was unreadable—calm, calculating, but there was a fire in her eyes I recognized. She liked hearing it. She thrived on it.

“You say the prettiest things, Rae.”

She used my nickname. My nickname. The one no one else was allowed to use.

Behind us, the wind howled. The battlefield raged. The White Dragon Emperor screamed in the distance.

And I? I had never felt more at peace.

Rebecca turned away, wings sprouting from her back like war-born flames.

And I rose.

Not as a fallen angel.

Not as a soldier.

Not even as a woman anymore.

But as hers.

Forever.

{Rebecca's POV}

Defeating Kokabiel turned out to be laughably easy. I didn’t even have to push myself, which, if I’m being honest, felt like a bit of a letdown. Not that I was complaining about a smooth victory, but I’d expected more of a fight from one of the Fallen Cadres. Then again, Dee had been feeding me Boosts the whole damn time, layering them one after another until I was practically crackling with raw power. Still, the bastard went down quicker than I thought he would.

Now, his corpse was cooling on the battlefield, sliced clean in half from shoulder to hip, courtesy of Raynare’s blade. Fanatical, that girl. Fiercely loyal, eyes wild with adoration whenever she looked at me. It hadn’t taken much coaxing for her to deliver the killing blow, especially after I told her about the [Additional Objective]. If one of the ex-Fallen—Raynare, Kalawarner, or Mittelt—landed the final strike on Kokabiel, I’d be rid of my racial weakness. No more flinching under Holy Light. And Raynare, bless her obsessive heart, had practically leapt at the chance to prove herself.

The sky, still fractured from the earlier skirmish, let out a resounding crack. A white shimmer tore through the clouds, and then he appeared—Vali Lucifer, the so-called White Dragon Emperor. He floated just above the battlefield, wings outstretched, looking mildly bewildered. “What’s this? He’s dead already?”

I didn’t bother hiding my grin. His timing was comical, really. There was an [Additional Objective] tied to Vali as well, and now that he was here, the board was perfectly set. “Oh? And what brings the illustrious White Dragon Emperor out here?” I asked, voice laced with feigned curiosity. The kind that doesn’t answer questions, just invites more.

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on Kokabiel’s corpse, lips pressed into a thin line. I couldn’t see his expression past the armor, but I imagined it was a mix of surprise and annoyance. Not that I cared.

Dee, standing beside me with her arms crossed and her tail twitching, let out an impatient growl. “Oy! White One! Are you gonna fucking ignore us all day, or are you just that dense?”

Vali’s eyes flicked to her. The Sacred Gear wings behind him shimmered, reacting to the presence of their old nemesis. “Red One,” Albion’s voice echoed out, calm and measured, “so you were here. I did not sense your host... Wait. Why do you feel...different?”

Dee’s grin stretched wide, all teeth and challenge. “Maybe because I’m not fucking stuck anymore,” she purred. “Unlike you, I’m not some disembodied whisper behind a pair of wings.”

Albion glowed brighter, clearly agitated, though he kept his voice level. “That is impossible. The system would not permit it.”

“Oh, honey,” Dee drawled, brushing nonexistent dust from her hip, “you’ve been in that gear too long if you still think the system is in charge. I’ve got a real body now. And a Partner who doesn’t treat me like a glorified sword. You, meanwhile, are still tied to that boy like a collar to a mutt.”

Vali’s jaw tightened, though he said nothing. Albion, ever the more composed of the two, tried to maintain some dignity. “Such vulgarity does not suit a dragon of your caliber.”

“Says the lizard who spent the last century whispering in a teenager’s ear,” Dee shot back with a snort. “Let’s not pretend you wouldn’t trade places with me if you could. You feel it, don’t you? The strength I have now. The freedom.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Albion finally spoke, more softly. “Your Partner... is not normal.”

“Good eye,” I said, stepping forward just slightly. “But flattery won’t get you any closer to figuring me out. Try harder.”

Vali finally moved, descending slowly toward Kokabiel’s bisected form. “Azazel didn’t say what I should do if Kokabiel was already dead... Do I bring back the body? Or...?” He trailed off, clearly thrown by the abrupt shift in plans.

I shrugged, utterly unconcerned. “That’s your business, not mine. I’d offer advice, but I doubt you’d follow it anyway.”

The air shifted again, this time lighter, playful. “Heya~! I think it’s best we take things from here!”

I turned, already recognizing the voice. Serafall Leviathan, in full Magical Girl regalia, sparkles and all. Behind her stood Serena Lucifer and Ajuka Beelzebub, the latter looking mildly bored while Serena scanned the scene with an unreadable expression.

Seeing them, I offered a small wave. “Well, if it isn’t the cavalry. Here to clean up the political fallout, I take it?”

Ajuka’s eyes flicked to me. “Something like that.”

Serafall beamed. “You did great, cutie! Really~! So efficient!”

I inclined my head slightly, not quite a bow, but enough to acknowledge the compliment. “Glad to be of service. I’ll leave the rest in your capable hands.”

I stepped back as they moved forward, watching as Serena and Ajuka began examining Kokabiel’s remains while Serafall pranced toward Vali, already peppering him with questions.

Dee leaned in close to me, voice low. “They’re not gonna like what you’ve been up to.”

“Probably not,” I murmured. “But they can’t exactly undo it either.”

Raynare was still nearby, standing over Kokabiel’s corpse like a victorious priestess over a slain heretic. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, eyes glassy with a manic sort of reverence. She hadn’t even acknowledged the Satans’ arrival, too enraptured by the glory of the moment and the satisfaction of my praise.

I made a note to talk to her later. Obsession was useful. Until it wasn’t.

Meanwhile, Vali still hovered in indecision, unsure whether to argue, fight, or retreat. I didn’t rush him. I wanted him to squirm a little more. Let the pieces fall into place on their own.

Albion, still clearly rattled, broke the silence. “You should not exist as you are. It defies the balance.”

Dee laughed. “Balance is for those who can’t tilt the scales. Me? I make my own rules.”

Vali turned slightly toward me. “What are you?”

Ah. Now there was the question.

I met his gaze without flinching, voice soft and slow, every syllable chosen with care. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I told you what I’m not?”

He didn’t answer, and that was enough. For now.

The Satans were here. The cleanup had begun. The objective was complete. Kokabiel was dead, and my [Additional Objective] fulfilled.

I wasn’t weak to Holy Light anymore.

And that was just the beginning.

Dee and Albion were still locked in a verbal spar, neither one backing down. I let it play out in the background, knowing full well that their rivalry had centuries of bile to spew, and honestly, it gave me time to think. Let the dragons shout. Let the Satans do their work. I’d already won the game before most of them even knew they were playing.

Now, all that remained was deciding what I wanted next.

Because in this world of Devils and Dragons, of power and politics, the board was mine.

And I never played fair.