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Clink, clink, clink.
The sound of porcelain cups against saucers echoed through that immense room like tiny crystal bells. Rito let his eyes wander across the ornate ceiling — chandeliers that looked like trapped constellations, frescoes telling stories of wars he could've stopped with a snap of his fingers. But here, in this moment, he was just... Rito. Some random guy having tea with one of the most influential families in the underworld.
Funny how power works, he thought, bringing the cup to his lips. The more you have, the more everyone wants a piece.
Lady Venelana was an impeccable hostess. Every gesture, every smile, every offer of more cookies — all calculated with the precision of a conductor leading an invisible orchestra. She wanted him to feel at home. No, more than that: she wanted him to be family. The maternal warmth emanating from her was genuine, Rito could tell, but there was also a layer of strategy there as thin as the porcelain he was holding.
"More tea, dear?" she asked, already tilting the pot before even hearing the answer.
"Please."
Shhhhh. The golden liquid poured out, releasing wisps of steam that danced like little ghosts.
Zeoticus, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding his intentions. The Gremory patriarch had an obsession — and Rito used that word deliberately — with alliances. Contracts. Agreements. Bonds that would tie destinies together like chains of gold. And having the most powerful being in all existence as a son-in-law? Pfft. That would be the equivalent of collecting every rare card in some cosmic deck.
"So," Zeoticus began, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward with that air of someone about to propose a deal, "you'll be having a meeting of the three factions in the underworld soon."
Rito nodded, keeping his expression neutral as the surface of a lake on a windless day.
"I know I'm not the most qualified to say this," the patriarch continued, and there was something genuine in his voice now, a fatherly concern leaking through the cracks of his political facade, "but it's becoming increasingly clear there will be an attack. What are you planning to protect them? The girls, I mean."
Ah. There it was. The real question behind the question. This wasn't about military strategy or tactical maneuvers. It was about Rias. About his daughter.
Rito pondered for a moment, letting the silence stretch like a violin string about to be plucked. Then he answered:
"I don't really need much attention, actually." He set the cup on the table with a soft click. "All of them have reached Ultimate-class being level. Gabriel recently became a Super Angel. Haruna-chan, Asia-chan, Mikan... they've already got six wings each."
He saw Zeoticus's eyes widen slightly. Six wings. That was no small feat.
"Plus," Rito continued, allowing himself a half-smile, "I personally trained Rias and Akeno. They're already much stronger than anyone realizes. If we get ambushed... well, we practically won't have any problems."
Sirzechs, who had been listening silently from the other side of the room, let out a muffled laugh. That guy was way too friendly for a Satan. Rito almost — almost — let a chuckle slip when he caught the redhead's thoughts. No prejudice, no arrogance. Just genuine curiosity. Sirzechs didn't want to know about the Creator, the omnipotent being who could rewrite reality like someone scribbling in a notebook. He wanted to know about Rito. The human side. The mishaps. That absurd luck that always put him in situations that defied all logic.
If he knew about all the times I tripped and face-planted in places I shouldn't have... Rito held his blank expression with Olympic effort.
"And there's more," he added, turning back to Zeoticus. "We have a group watching us. Keeping us safe from the shadows."
The patriarch raised an eyebrow. "A group?"
Rito thought of Vali. That battle maniac who was now completely domesticated by a certain black-haired nekomata. Vali used his dimension-crossing ability to follow them, sliding between realities like a shadow between curtains. And with Kuroka by his side, purring like a satisfied cat... heh. The white dragon had turned into a little pet kitten.
"Let's just say," Rito said, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "that even the fiercest predators calm down when they find someone who knows how to scratch them in just the right spot."
Venelana laughed softly, covering her lips with her fingers. Zeoticus just shook his head, not fully understanding, but accepting it.
Thum. Thum. Thum.
The train cut through the underworld like a serpent of iron and light. Rito gazed out the window, watching impossible landscapes pass by — mountains of black crystal, forests where the leaves glowed like embers, skies that changed color with every mile.
"Well," he said, turning to the girls, "looks like we're heading to the meeting location."
They all nodded. Determined. Ready.
All except one.
Rias was pouting. That pout that could melt glaciers, that could convince dragons to go vegetarian, that could make gods reconsider their cosmic decisions.
"You promised," she murmured, crossing her arms, "that we'd go shopping in Gremory territory."
"And we will," Rito replied gently. "When we get back. I promise we'll spend some time together."
Her eyes sparkled. "Akihabara?"
Oh no. She knew exactly how to hit his weak spot.
"Akihabara," Rito confirmed, feeling his heart race just thinking about it. For a nerd, an anime fan, someone in love with Japan... that was the magnum opus. The Holy Grail. The One Piece at the end of the Grand Line.
Rias smiled, satisfied, and Rito knew he had just signed an invisible contract.
Vuuuuuush.
The dome appeared on the horizon like a dream sculpted in white stone. It looked like Las Noches from Bleach — that impossible fortress beneath the eternal moon of Hueco Mundo. A colossal structure erected in neutral territory, exactly at the point where the borders of the fallen angels and devils met and cancelled each other out.
As they approached, Rito felt the weight of that moment descend on his shoulders like an invisible mantle.
The number of beings gathered there was overwhelming.
Angels, with their golden wings pulsing soft light. Fallen angels, with black plumage that absorbed the brightness around them. Devils, exuding ancestral power from every pore.
And there, waiting, were all of them.
The four Satans in formation. Sirzechs, Serafall, Ajuka, Falbium — each radiating a presence that would make mountains tremble.
On the fallen angels' side: Azazel, with that smile of someone who knows more than he should. Penemue, elegant as a dagger wrapped in silk. Shemhazai, serious. Armaros, vigilant. And Baraqiel, whose aura thundered even in silence.
And the angels... heavens.
Michael, the leader, serene as a sunrise. Uriel, blazing. Raphael, wise. Ludociel, Mael, Sariel, Tarmiel — a constellation of sacred power that would outshine stars.
But that wasn't all.
Beyond the three factions now signing a historic armistice, other presences emerged from the shadows and the light.
Lugh, the Celtic god of light and skill, observed everything with eyes that seemed to calculate a thousand possibilities per second.
And Odin... the All-Father... leaning on his spear Gungnir, with Huginn and Muninn perched on his shoulders, the ravens whispering secrets gathered from the nine worlds.
Rito took a deep breath.
Fwoooo.
The air entered cold into his lungs.
So this is it, he thought. The whole world gathered in one place.
And somewhere in that impossible crowd, in the folds between dimensions, Vali watched. Waiting. Ready for the chaos that would surely come.
Because peace, Rito knew, was just the interval between storms.
And this storm? It was only just beginning to form on the horizon.