It began with silence.
Then a scream.
Then steel.
The village's outer wall lit up with fire as arrows of crimson flame cut through the night sky. Explosions cracked along the training ground, and before the alarms even rang, figures cloaked in shadow slipped through the dark like ghosts. Assassins—high-level, trained in void arts and teleportation—struck fast and without warning.
But Kujo was already awake.
His eyes snapped open the moment he felt the air shift. His instincts, honed by too many betrayals and battles, had kept him from sleeping deeply since the war declaration. He grabbed his gear and leapt to the rooftop just as the first explosion hit.
Kyrie was already airborne, blades drawn and wings spread wide. "They're inside the perimeter!"
Fiore appeared beside him in a blink, eyes blazing. "South barracks. Zafira and Chusi are heading there. I'm staying with you."
Dimara emerged from the shadows, carrying Setara protectively as she ran toward the command tower.
Below, dozens of black-clad enemies surged into the streets, blades aimed for vital points, spells primed to cripple defenses. But they weren't ready for what met them.
Zafira unleashed golden runes that trapped enemies mid-leap, Chusi tore through three at once with fang and claw, and Setara began coordinating a counteroffensive through magical relay nodes, sending reinforcements to the breaches.
In the east wing, where the barracks stood, Seraka—the desert knight—stood alone.
And held the line.
Armor dented, blade chipped, breath ragged, she didn't budge an inch as waves of enemies descended on her. She fought like a wall of iron—impenetrable, unyielding—cutting through assassins with brutal precision, refusing to retreat a single step.
At the heart of the village, Kujo fended off two elite assassins at once, his shadow claws slashing through dark mist. One ducked behind him, blade aiming straight for his back.
He felt the cold breath of death on his neck—
Then it stopped.
Aeva stood behind him, one hand raised, her eyes glowing with unnatural pink light. The assassin froze in place, mouth agape, body twitching.
"Forbidden charm magic," she said, licking her finger. "Nasty stuff. Illegal in most circles. Effective everywhere."
The assassin collapsed, twitching and convulsing.
Kujo turned to her, breathing hard. "You just drained his soul."
"Only a piece," she purred, stepping closer. "He deserved worse."
"You weren't supposed to be out here."
"I said I was staying close for emergencies. This seems like one." Her eyes flashed. "Besides, you almost died. I couldn't let that happen, not when I just got comfortable."
He didn't answer, already turning back toward the fighting. But the worst had passed. With coordinated force from all six girls, the enemy units fell one after another. Their forces were fast and deadly, but not built for prolonged conflict—not against a village of monsters who had something to protect.
The last assassin fell just before dawn.
Bodies were cleared.
Wounds tended.
Barricades restored.
The sky was just starting to lighten when Kujo finally returned to his quarters.
Only to find Aeva already waiting—again.
This time she wasn't lounging.
She was kneeling on the edge of his bed, arms folded under her chest, hair loose and glowing faintly in the rising light.
"You could've died," she said, voice quiet.
"I didn't."
"Because of me."
He paused at the doorway. "Yes. You helped."
She walked to him slowly, placing her hand on his chest, fingers splayed wide. "I don't do things for free, Kujo."
"I figured."
She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "I want to thank you."
"You already did."
"No. Not properly." Her lips brushed his jawline. "Let me do it my way."
He opened his mouth to protest—but her arms were already around his neck, her body pressed flush against his.
She kissed him, deep and sultry, with all the raw charm her magic couldn't force—because it didn't need to.
"You saved me too, you know," she whispered. "Letting me stay. Giving me a chance. That means something."
She leaned back, tugging him gently toward the bed.
"No more running tonight, Kujo. You're mine for at least one hour."
He didn't fight her.
Not this time.
The strategy meeting was supposed to be serious.
With new tribes arriving—gargoyles from the volcanic spires, centaur emissaries from the southern plains, and several unaffiliated beastfolk seeking asylum—the need for diplomatic planning had never been greater. The Demon King's forces hadn't moved since the failed ambush, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time.
So Kujo did what any overburdened, slightly exhausted leader would do.
He called a meeting in the village hot springs.
The idea, in theory, was sound. Steam soothed the nerves. Heat relaxed the muscles. A calm setting might make it easier to think through complicated matters of diplomacy, logistics, and alliance-building.
But he underestimated one critical factor.
His harem.
"You didn't say it was a private meeting," Kyrie chirped, stepping into the steaming water completely nude, wings tucked tightly behind her.
"I said strategy," Kujo replied flatly, eyes instinctively snapping away from her bare chest.
"That is my strategy," she said with a wink, floating toward him.
Fiore entered next, silent and already in the pool before anyone could protest. Her expression was unreadable, but the water barely covered her curves, and she made no attempt to hide her position—right at Kujo's right side.
Setara followed, notebook in one hand, her towel gone before her foot even touched the water. "I'll be taking notes," she said, cheeks pink, eyes determined not to look directly at Kujo's chest.
Chusi cannonballed in with no warning, water spraying across the entire spring. She surfaced with a laugh, her soaked body pressing right up against Kujo's side like it belonged there.
"Perfect place for a war council, boss."
Zafira arrived more quietly, robes folded neatly at the edge of the spring. She slid into the water with all the grace of a royal courtesan, her long white hair floating around her like silk.
Finally, Dimara emerged from the shadows at the edge of the rocks, completely nude, tendrils already curling into the water as she stalked toward Kujo with a sly grin.
"Didn't want to start without me, did you~?"
He rubbed his temples. "This is supposed to be a war council."
"It is," Zafira said calmly, settling beside him and draping an arm over his shoulder. "We're just making sure you're… relaxed while planning it."
Fiore's eyes narrowed. "You're too close."
"So are you," Kyrie said, sliding between them and latching onto Kujo's arm.
"You're all in the way," Chusi added, crawling halfway into his lap. "I got here first."
Setara scribbled something, then stopped mid-word when Dimara slid into Kujo's other side and wrapped a slick tendril around his leg underwater.
"This is getting us nowhere," he muttered.
"Because someone can't stop groping," Fiore growled.
"Accident!" Chusi grinned. "Totally!"
Kujo tried to stand up—only to slip on a submerged bar of soap. He flailed, caught Dimara's chest, fell backward into Zafira's lap, and ended up with Kyrie's leg wrapped over his shoulder trying to stop him from slipping further.
Setara splashed her notebook, cursed, and nearly dropped her pen as Chusi's tail smacked the back of her head.
"It's like a wet war zone," she muttered.
By the time the flailing stopped, Kujo was buried in a steaming pile of thighs, breasts, wings, and very unstrategically placed body parts.
"I hate all of you," he mumbled.
"You love it," Dimara purred, nuzzling his cheek.
"I can't think like this."
Zafira pressed a calming hand to his chest. "Then don't. Just feel. We can plan once the heat dies down."
"Good luck with that," Setara muttered. "The heat's not the problem."
Kyrie pulled herself closer, sighing dreamily. "This really is the best strategy session ever."
"New rule," Kujo groaned. "Next meeting… full armor only."
"You'll still get tackled," Fiore said.
"…Yeah."