Finally, Ivanova leaned in, her tone deceptively calm.
"Well, ladies, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you both to step aside. Kafka is mine, I mean, my daughter's. Naturally."
Wisteria immediately stiffened.
"Step aside? Oh, no, no, no. You're adorable, Ivanova, but I can't let that happen. Kafka is destined for my daughter. I can already see them ruling together, beautiful, radiant, unmatched."
Amora slammed her hand down on the table.
"And what about my daughter? You're both delusional if you think I'm just going to stand here and let you take him! He belongs..."
"...to me!" all three said at once.
They froze, glaring at each other like predators in divine form.
Ivanova huffed, folding her arms.
"We'll be a big family then." She muttered. "Kafka will have my daughter—and maybe, just maybe, you can both be the doting aunts."
"Excuse me?!" Wisteria and Amora chorused.
"I said what I said."
"Oh, for heaven's sake." Wisteria groaned. "You're insufferable."
Amora smirked. "Says the one glowing with jealousy."
The argument might have continued indefinitely, but suddenly, a playful voice cut through the air.
"Well, well, well." The voice drawled. "I was wondering when you three would start fighting over him."
All three goddesses turned sharply, and there, leaning gracefully against a marble pillar with a cup of black nectar in her hand, stood Sephora, the Godof Darkness, her lips curled into a confident smile.
"Sephora!" Ivanova exclaimed. "Were you listening this whole time?"
"Listening?" Sephora chuckled. "Oh, darling, the entire garden could hear you three arguing. But don't worry, I don't mind joining the discussion."
Amora frowned. "You? What could you possibly—"
"Oh, relax." Sephora interrupted, waving her hand lazily. "I just thought you should know...you can all stop bickering. Because Kafka will be marrying my daughter."
"WHAT?!" All three goddesses shouted in unison.
Sephora grinned, taking a leisurely sip. "You heard me. She's beautiful, intelligent, and has just enough mystery to keep him intrigued. Honestly, I'm surprised you all didn't realize it sooner."
Before any of them could respond, another voice chimed in.
"Oh, is that what this conversation is about?" Said a cheerful, melodic tone. "Whose daughter is getting Kafka?"
The four turned again, this time to see Fiona, the Goddess of Health, walking toward them with an amused grin.
"Well, don't worry about it, ladies. My daughter will be taking that spot."
Amora gawked. "You too?!"
"Of course." Fiona said smoothly. "I can't let an opportunity like that pass by. A man who can heal the hearts of gods? I want him for my family too."
And just like that—more voices began echoing from around the garden, goddesses who had clearly been eavesdropping on the entire conversation.
"Oh, please, you're all wasting your breath!" Cried another from a nearby table. "Kafka's perfect for my daughter!"
"No, mine!"
"Excuse me, I called dibs the moment his name was mentioned!"
The once–elegant celebration had utterly fallen apart.
Music that only moments ago danced softly in the air now came to an abrupt stop as the goddesses' laughter twisted into angry shouts.
Tables rattled, tea spilled over fine tablecloths, and sparks of divine energy crackled across the garden like lightning.
Dozens of radiant beings who only seconds ago looked flawless and serene were now glaring daggers at one another.
Hands twitched, ready to summon fire, wind, and light. The scent of rage filled the air, one wrong word, and heaven's most beautiful garden would turn into a battlefield.
"It's mine!" Shouted one goddess, slamming her cup down so hard the porcelain shattered into glittering dust.
"Ha! Over my dead body!" Hissed another, her wings flaring with indignant brilliance.
"You? Please, your daughter couldn't even handle him!"
"Oh? And yours could? Don't make me laugh!"
Even the heavens themselves seemed to tremble beneath their rage. Clouds shifted overhead, lightning cracked across the golden horizon.
A few steps away, near a stream surrounded by soft pink trees, a smaller crowd of young women had gathered—the daughters of the True Gods.
They should have been terrified at seeing their mothers ready to blast each other into oblivion.
But instead—
They looked...thrilled.
Several leaned forward eagerly, eyes gleaming like they were watching the final round of some divine competition.
"Come on, Mother!" One whispered fiercely, clenching her fists. "Show them who's boss!"
Another giggled, whispering to her friend, "If she wins, that means Kafka's mine!"
"Don't hold back, Mama! For our family's honor, and my future love life!"
"Bring home the prize, Mother." Said one in a determined tone, raising her teacup like a battle flag. "For peace, for glory...and for Kafka!"
"I heard he's even better in person." Another said dreamily, resting her cheek on her hand. "Just imagine having him at home..."
The demi-gods traded glances, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.
None of them tried to stop the chaos.
In fact, they looked like they were rooting for it.
The air was seconds away from erupting. Power surged between the gods, colorful energy clashing midair. A single misplaced spark could level entire realms.
But before the first blast could be launched—
Ding! Ding! Ding!
A sharp, clear chime echoed through the air. It wasn't loud, but somehow it silenced everything.
The sparks fizzled out. Every goddess froze in place, turning toward the source of the sound.
Floating high above the celebration, her golden hair flowing like moonlight...stood Evangeline.
The God of Order herself.
Her gaze was calm and cold as she looked down upon the gathered crowd. The very sight of her was enough to silence even the most hot-headed of goddesses.
"Lady Evangeline?" One of them whispered in disbelief. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in the mortal world right now?"
"I am the God of Order." Evangeline said simply. "I appear wherever disorder begins to take root. And it's quite obvious that something like that is about to happen here." Her eyes swept slowly across the crowd. "So, I came to intervene."
The words struck the air with weight, though one goddess, emboldened by the tension, let out a small cough and spoke in a teasing tone.
"Intervene? Oh, come now, Lady Evangeline. Forgive my impertinence, but even you couldn't possibly stop all of us from fighting, could you? There are far too many of us here."
A few nervous chuckles followed. The idea of Evangeline trying to stop over a hundred true gods mid-fight was...well, almost impossible.
But Evangeline didn't argue. She only inclined her head slightly.
"You're right." She said calmly. "There's no way I could stop you from fighting. Not through force, at least."
The crowd of gods murmured, exchanging puzzled looks.
"But..." Evangeline continued, her voice steady and clear. "I can stop the reason you're all about to fight."
"And how..." One of them asked hesitantly. "...do you intend to do that?"
Evangeline's eyes scanned the crowd, unblinking, before she finally said,
"By reminding you of one simple fact."
Every goddess fell silent.
She paused, letting the tension stretch just long enough before speaking the words that would end the chaos entirely.
"Kafka's mother..." She said. "...isn't some ordinary deity. She's not someone who would ever let anyone's daughter marry him. She's Lady Vanitas."
And before anyone could respond, Evangeline's form shimmered, and she vanished from the spot entirely, leaving only silence in her wake.
For a moment, no one moved. The words hung in the air like thunder.
Then, slowly, the gathered gods began to exchange looks, wide-eyed, pale, utterly dumbfounded.
"...Oh my." Someone whispered. "I completely forgot."
"Me too." Another said weakly. "How could I forget who his mother is?"
"The son is just too charming." One goddess groaned, clutching her face. "I forgot for a moment that Lady Vanitas is...well...Lady Vanitas!"
Murmurs rippled across the divine crowd.
"There's no way she'd ever let her son marry any of our daughters." One goddess said, shaking her head.
"Not unless she came with him—"
"—which is even worse!" Another interrupted, shuddering. "Imagine Lady Vanitas as your in-law. I'd rather face a cosmic beast bare-handed."
A nervous laugh spread through the crowd as the fiery auras died down. The sparks vanished, the divine pressure eased, and the heavenly garden slowly returned to its usual elegance.
Wisteria exhaled softly, lowering her shoulders.
"Lady Vanitas was already the strongest among us before." She said gravely. "I wouldn't even dare to argue with her over something as trivial as marriage."
"And now that she's the ruler of the entire universe...trying to ask for her son's hand is like asking for a death wish." Amora nodded, looking both impressed and nervous.
Ivanova sighed with a wry smile.
"How could I forget that? It's just...those two are so different. I can't even link them together in my mind. Kafka is gentle, warm, almost mortal in his heart, and Lady Vanitas is..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Terrifying."
The gods chuckled awkwardly, their earlier passion cooling into reluctant humility.
"Well..." Amora said after a pause. "I suppose our daughters will be disappointed."
Wisteria smirked faintly. "Better disappointed than dead."
Ivanova snorted. "That's one way to keep the peace."
Their laughter was nervous but genuine. Peace returned to the divine gathering, just as Evangeline had intended.
But just then someone asked hesitantly, "But...will Lady Vanitas and her son even be coming today?"
The moment she said it—
PABAPUM!
A loud trumpet blast echoed through the sky, shaking the clouds themselves.
Every god turned upward.
Then came a booming voice, clear and resonant, that filled the heavens:
"Announcing the arrival of Lady Vanitas, the True Sovereign of Life and Death, Ruler of the Heavens and the Mortal Realm, and her son, the Incarnation of Lust, Lord Kafka!"
A collective gasp rippled through the divine crowd.
High above, the clouds split apart, and from them emerged a sight so grand it silenced even the most talkative goddess.
A colossal dragon, its scales shimmering in radiant gold and crimson, soared through the heavens. It was massive, stretching for kilometers, its wings blotting out the sun as it descended gracefully toward the sacred tree.
Dozens of angels accompanied it, their instruments echoing a celestial symphony.
Valkyries flew in elegant formations, scattering flower petals of light across the air.
Trails of divine energy spiraled around the dragon's wings as it glided lower, the heavens themselves parting in reverence.
It was a display of sheer majesty, overwhelming, untouchable, absolute.
And atop that divine beast stood Lady Vanitas herself, magestic and serene, her long hair flowing like starlit silk.
Beside her stood Kafka, calm yet unmistakably striking, the focus of every gaze.
All across the heavenly garden, the gods and demigods could only stare, wide-eyed, speechless.
Even Wisteria, Amora, and Ivanova found themselves in awe.
Amora then let out a low, amused laugh as the divine dragon circled the skies.
"Only Lady Vanitas would dare to make such an entrance." She murmured.
Ivanova nodded slowly.
"You're not wrong. If anyone else tried something like that, the other gods would have been seething with irritation, calling her arrogant, pompous, trying too hard to act almighty."
"But Vanitas?" Wisteria added with a wry smile. "She doesn't care. She doesn't need to care. Everyone fears her, not the other way around. If she wants to descend on a dragon wreathed in starlight and moons, she can do it. She's earned it."
"It suits her too, doesn't it?" Amora chuckled, swirling her cup. "The God of Vanity, making an entrance that declares 'I am the world's reflection.' It's...almost poetic."