Despite everything I’d done—and the things I was now strong enough to do—I still had enough manners not to spend the night with all five of my fiancées in the Imperial Palace.
Even I had limits. Even I had tact.
So instead, I teleported us to my private penthouse. The one Reika maintained with obsessive precision, where every surface gleamed and every detail reflected the care she poured into creating a sanctuary for the people she loved.
After tucking Stella into her room—her small body finally surrendering to the exhaustion of an emotionally overwhelming day—and getting down to business for hours, I stood in my bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror that had witnessed so many moments of my previous life.
My eyes were a little more tired than I remembered. My jaw sharper. There was an edge to my face that hadn’t been there before, carved by years of hunting demons in alien landscapes where mercy was a luxury that got you killed. The scars were subtle but present—thin lines that spoke to blades that had come too close, burns that had healed imperfectly despite advanced magical treatment.
"I can’t believe I did that," I muttered under my breath, though the words carried satisfaction rather than regret.
Behind me, through the bedroom’s open door, I could see them. All five of them, asleep together in the massive bed that had been designed to accommodate exactly this situation. Limbs tangled in silk sheets, peaceful expressions softening the exhaustion they rarely let anyone see during their waking hours. After two years apart, one thing had been painfully clear the moment we reunited—distance had made everything sharper, not duller. And we’d all missed each other more than we had allowed ourselves to realize.
Rachel lay curled against the pillows, her golden hair spread like sunlight across the dark fabric, one hand still reaching toward where I had been lying. Cecilia had claimed the center position with unconsciousness, her blonde hair a stark contrast against the pale sheets. Seraphina maintained perfect posture even in sleep, though her silver hair had fallen across her face in a way that made her look younger, more vulnerable. Rose had positioned herself near the edge, while Reika had somehow managed to curl into the smallest possible space despite the bed’s generous proportions.
They were warriors, leaders, heirs to great legacies that would shape the future of entire continents. But tonight, they had simply been women who wanted to hold the man they loved, to reassure themselves through touch that he had truly returned.
I changed into clean clothes, the familiar fabric of home feeling strange against skin that had grown accustomed to the harsh textiles of an alien world. As I dressed, my eyes fell on my hands—specifically, the five rings that gleamed on my fingers, each one pulsing faintly with traces of mana that spoke to promises made and bonds that transcended normal human relationships.
But there was a sixth ring, one that I wore on a different finger. One that represented a promise I hadn’t been able to keep.
I reached for Elara’s ring, the white aetherite band that had been crafted to honor her healing abilities and the dignity she had deserved as my wife. The therapeutic energy woven into its structure still pulsed with gentle warmth, but now it felt like an echo of something lost rather than a connection to something present.
She wasn’t here. She would never be here again.
But forgetting her wasn’t the answer. Quite the opposite.
I slipped her ring off my finger and threaded a silver chain through it, hanging it around my neck where it rested near my heart. The weight was slight but significant—a reminder of what sacrifice meant, of why the people still in my life mattered so much, of the price that had been paid for the power I now possessed.
It wasn’t about guilt. Guilt was useless. It was about purpose.
Moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of Avalon City, I looked out at the lights that sparkled like earthbound stars in the darkness. Millions of people living their lives, unaware that their continued existence depended on decisions made by individuals they would never meet. The weight of that responsibility had once felt crushing. Now it felt like gravity—constant, essential, and strangely comforting in its inevitability.
And here, in this bed, five extraordinary women had chosen to wait for someone who might never have returned. They had transformed themselves into forces of nature during my absence, reaching power levels that should have taken decades to achieve, all because the alternative was feeling helpless while someone they loved faced impossible odds.
Each of them was part of a constellation I could never allow to fall.
The thought crystallized into something approaching absolute certainty. Yes, I knew they would fight beside me when the Second Calamity emerged. None of them were the type to wait quietly while I went to war against world-ending threats. But that didn’t change my role. It didn’t change what I had decided long ago, reinforced by every demon I had killed on Xerion Prime.
I would be at the forefront. I would bear the brunt. I would take the heaviest steps first.
Because I was the strongest now. By far.
And I wasn’t going to waste that advantage.
There was a kind of quiet pride in that realization. Not the loud, arrogant kind that demanded recognition or applause. The deep kind. The kind that settled in your bones and let you sleep at night, knowing the people you loved were safe because you stood between them and everything else that wanted to hurt them.
But before I could face whatever nightmare was gathering in the fragments of the Heavenly Demon’s dispersed essence, there were older promises to keep. Debts that predated my journey to another world, obligations that had been waiting patiently for my return.
One week. I would give myself one week to reconnect with the life I had fought so hard to return to. Seven days to remember what normal felt like, to let Stella adjust to having her father back, to allow my parents and sister to process the changes two years had wrought in their son and brother. Seven days to explore how my relationships with five remarkable women had evolved during our separation.
After that, duty called from the Western Continent.
Jin Ashbluff had been waiting years for me to repay him for his help I got using a mana oath. His sister Rin, corrupted by her innate miasmic Gift, needed to be rescued before she would be executed and healed.
Then there was Kali Maelkith, whose family’s Grade 6 art had been stolen by the Savage Communion and the leverage I had used to get her help with building Ouroboros through mana oath.
Most importantly, there was the Axe King.
The Pope of the Savage Communion, leader of the cult that worshipped ogres. Eight years ago, I had challenged him to single combat to pique his interest in order to save Grand Marshal Meilyn Potan. He was delighted in seeing my talent and wished for me to fight him in eight years.
The thought brought a smile to my lips that held none of the warmth I felt when looking at my sleeping fiancées. This was the smile of someone who had spent two years learning exactly how to kill opponents who should have been unkillable. The Axe King was powerful—low Radiant-rank, with decades of combat experience and magical artifacts that enhanced his already formidable abilities.
But I had killed Void-Singer Maethis. I had slaughtered seventeen Marquises who specialized in forms of destruction that defied normal magical theory. I had awakened a Third Gift that allowed me to rewrite reality itself through narrative force.
The Axe King would fall. Not easily, perhaps. Not without cost. But inevitably.
And his defeat would send a message to every other threat gathering in the shadows: Arthur Nightingale had returned, and the world’s protectors were no longer content to simply defend. We were taking the offensive.
’Planning already?’ came Luna’s amused voice in my mind, her presence gentle but alert. ’Most people take more than one night to readjust to domestic life.’
’Most people don’t have seventeen demon marquis kills and a continental reputation to maintain,’ I replied silently, still watching the city lights below. ’Besides, you know as well as I do that the Western Continent won’t stabilize itself.’
Behind me, I heard the soft sound of someone stirring in the bed. Turning, I saw Reika’s violet eyes reflecting the city lights as she watched me with the kind of patient attention that characterized her approach to everything important.
"Can’t sleep Master?" she asked softly, careful not to wake the others.
"Just thinking," I replied, moving back toward the bed where she waited with arms already reaching to welcome me back into the warmth they had created together.
"About what?" she asked as I settled beside her, automatically adjusting to accommodate my presence without disturbing the others.
"About keeping promises," I said simply, pulling her close as exhaustion from an emotionally overwhelming day finally began to catch up with me. "About making sure this peace lasts."
"It will," Reika said with absolute conviction that spoke to faith rather than mere hope. "Because you’ll make sure it does."
As sleep finally claimed me, surrounded by the people who made everything else worthwhile, I felt the kind of deep satisfaction that came from knowing exactly what needed to be done and having the power to do it.