Kuroka watched the scene unfold, her golden eyes narrowing with feline intuition. She knew exactly how deep her little sister's feelings for Shuo ran. So, she couldn't help but interject:
"Shuo Nangong, Shirone is still a kitten. Hands off, nya!"
Shuo shot her a sly grin, his gaze lingering on Kuroka's sultry curves. His voice dripped with playful mischief:
"Oh? So I can't touch Koneko-chan? Guess I'll have to settle for you instead. Sister cat-girls—what a perfect set."
"Senpai, you pervert!"
Koneko's cheeks flared red, her glare equal parts indignation and embarrassment. She puffed out her cheeks, looking so cute that Shuo almost forgot to tease her further.
Kuroka, on the other hand, just licked her lips, eyes sparkling with wicked amusement.
"Fine by me, nya~ With your bloodline, our kittens would be the strongest in the Three Realms. I'd say that's a win-win."
As a nekomata in full mating season, Kuroka's interest was more than academic. Shuo, with power surpassing even the Dragon Gods, was the ideal mate.
Koneko could only stare at her sister in disbelief. They'd barely reunited, and Kuroka was already trying to steal her man.
Shuo laughed, rubbing his chin. "Well, that settles things."
He turned to Bikou, who'd been watching from a safe distance. "Kuroka's staying with me. Any objections?"
Bikou swallowed hard, his bravado evaporating.
With that look, what am I supposed to say? Object? Not if I value my limbs.
He managed a weak smile, nodding in defeat.
Kuroka giggled, her voice teasing. "Bikou, you've gone soft! Just tell Vali I'm with Shuo now, nya~"
Bikou rolled his eyes. Easy for her to say—she wasn't the one who'd have to deliver the news. Still, messenger duty was better than being collateral damage. He shrugged and slipped away.
With Bikou gone, Shuo led Koneko and Kuroka back to the Maou's party. The Rating Game tournament was just days away, and preparations were in full swing.
Koneko, as Rias's peerage member, would be fighting. Shuo escorted Kuroka to the spectator stands, keeping her close.
At the entrance to the conference hall, the guards bowed deeply.
"Lord Nangong, the Maou and the other leaders are waiting for you."
Inside, the heads of the three great factions had already gathered.
Azazel, ever the laid-back troublemaker, greeted Shuo with a grin.
"Yo, Nangong. Been a while."
He still remembered Shuo fleecing him for a few artificial Sacred Gears, but he didn't hold a grudge. Shuo's strange powers were worth the price.
Archangel Michael offered a warm smile.
"Shuo-kun, thank you again for your help last time. Heaven's system is finally back on track, and we've welcomed a new generation of pure angels."
The relief in his voice was genuine—Shuo's intervention had lifted a burden Michael had carried for centuries.
When Michael noticed Kuroka, his eyes narrowed in surprise.
"Shuo-kun, is that the SS-class stray Devil Kuroka, wanted by the Underworld?"
All eyes turned to Kuroka.
For once, the infamous wildcat looked rattled. Being stared down by the most powerful beings in the Three Realms would do that, even to her.
Shuo waved off their concerns.
"She's with me now. Consider her tamed."
He gave them a quick rundown of the situation.
Sirzechs whistled, eyebrows raised.
"So even Bikou, with Sun Wukong's bloodline, joined the Khaos Brigade? That's unexpected."
Shuo shrugged. "Don't worry about Bikou and his crew. They just want to fight strong opponents. They're not real threats."
The others nodded. Compared to the true terrorists in the Khaos Brigade, Vali's group were just kids playing at war.
"By the way," Shuo added, turning to Sirzechs, "about Kuroka—I'd appreciate it if you could lift her wanted status."
Sirzechs didn't hesitate.
"Consider it done."
Kuroka could only stare, stunned. To see the Maou and the other leaders treating Shuo with such respect—it felt like a dream.
A gravelly voice interrupted the moment.
"Hmph! Don't you youngsters know to greet your elders?"
The conference room door swung open. An old man hobbled in, accompanied by a striking young woman.
The man wore a battered hat, an eyepatch over his left eye, and his long white beard and hair spilled over a plain black robe. He leaned heavily on a cane, his posture betraying a lifetime of battles.
Beside him, the silver-haired Valkyrie stood tall in gleaming armor, twin ahoge sprouting from her head like antennae.
Shuo recognized them instantly. Odin, chief god of the Norse pantheon. And behind him, Rossweisse, his personal Valkyrie bodyguard.
Azazel's grin widened.
"Well, well, if it isn't the northern country's cranky old man."
Odin snorted, settling into a sofa and stroking his beard.
"Long time, fallen brat. Every time I see you lot playing nice together, I get a headache. What are you scheming this time?"
Azazel shrugged. "We're not like you stubborn country gods, old man. The young should break boundaries, not cling to the past."
Odin scoffed. "Spoken like a loser who lost his God and Devil Kings. Just a bunch of brats playing at being important."
Azazel shot back. "Coming from you, that's rich. If you weren't so old, I'd call you out for talking nonsense."
Odin grumbled. "You're all just children playing house, fallen troublemaker."
Shuo watched the exchange with amusement, while Kuroka gaped.
Was this really how gods acted? They sounded more like bickering street thugs than divine beings.
Sirzechs, looking thoroughly exasperated, finally stepped in.
"It's been a long time, Odin-sama."
Odin nodded, then eyed Sirzechs.
"Ah, Sirzechs. Here to observe the Devils' Rating Games, are we? A Lucifer bloodline inheritor who's also the White Dragon Emperor and a terrorist… what a tragedy for Devilkind."
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