The Golden Griffin was universally recognized as the most exclusive, ridiculously expensive restaurant in the Eastern Human Kingdom. Getting a reservation usually required a royal decree and a six-month waiting list.
Getting a table immediately only required Demon Lord Malakor to stand in the doorway, crack his knuckles, and politely ask the maître d' if they had a high chair available.
Now, the strongest, most chaotic found-family in the universe was seated at the grand center table beneath a crystal chandelier.
Maya was sitting next to little Elara, gently tucking a pristine white napkin into the collar of the girl's oversized tunic. Elara looked around the massive, gilded dining room with wide, terrified eyes. She had never been anywhere so bright or loud.
"It's okay, sweetie," Maya said softly, her terrifying aura completely dialed back into pure, maternal warmth. "You can order whatever you want. We have the company credit card." She gestured vaguely to King Aldric's royal treasury pouch, which Leo had casually permanently borrowed.
Behind Maya and Elara, standing like the world's most intimidating Secret Service agents, were Malakor and Kaelen. They had upgraded their butler suits with crisp white gloves.
At a smaller table nearby, Demon Generals Pavan, Karthik, and Aman were awkwardly hunched over, trying to hold tiny, delicate silver forks with their massive, spiked claws to eat miniature shrimp cocktails.
"If I bite the fork by accident," Aman whispered to Karthik, his eyes darting around the fancy room, "does the Lord Leo count that as property damage?"
"Just swallow it whole," Pavan hissed, sweating profusely. "Don't cause a scene. The Lady Maya is in 'Mom Mode.' It's her most dangerous form."
Leo was lounging across from Maya, sipping a glass of glowing blue elven wine. He smiled at Elara. "So, kiddo. You like steak? Pasta? Maybe some giant sea monster? Vermithrax caught a really nice Megalodon earlier."
Elara blinked, overwhelmed. "Um... b-bread?"
"We're getting her the filet mignon," Maya decided instantly.
Just then, the head waiter—a highly strung, overly enthusiastic man named Pierre—marched up to the table. He was carrying a massive silver cloche cover, eager to present the restaurant's signature flaming appetizer.
Pierre stopped at the table and, with an overly dramatic flourish, whipped the silver cover off the tray and struck a magical flint.
FWOOSH.
A pillar of bright red culinary fire erupted from the plate for dramatic effect.
To a noble, it was a fancy parlor trick. But to a seven-year-old girl who had just been violently ejected from the Domain of the Gods, it was a terrifying flash of trauma.
Elara gasped. Her golden eyes widened in pure panic. She threw her hands up over her face to protect herself, and a shockwave of raw, unadulterated divine magic exploded from her small body.
It was a blinding wave of golden light—the kind of pure, holy energy that vaporizes demons on contact and shatters mortal architecture.
Malakor and Kaelen instantly felt their demonic blood boil. Their eyes rolled back. This was it, they thought. We survived the Vanguard, but the seven-year-old is going to accidentally smite us.
The golden shockwave expanded outward at the speed of light, threatening to blow the roof off The Golden Griffin and alert every priest in the city to a fallen god.
But before the wave could even move three inches...
Smack.
Leo didn't even put his wine glass down. He casually reached across the table with his left hand and caught the expanding sphere of divine, apocalyptic energy like he was catching a stray baseball.
The camera would absolutely capture this in slow-motion: Leo's hand effortlessly compressing the holy shockwave, squeezing the blinding light down, down, down, until it was nothing more than a small, violently vibrating ball of golden energy resting in his palm.
The restaurant patrons hadn't even noticed the flash.
Pierre the waiter blinked, staring at Leo's glowing hand. "Monsieur... what is...?"
Leo smiled cheerfully. He casually slammed the compressed ball of divine magic onto the center of the dining table. It stabilized, turning into a perfectly harmless, beautifully glowing golden table candle that illuminated the silverware.
"Ah, the ambient lighting I requested," Leo said smoothly, taking a sip of his wine. "Thanks, Pierre. Really sets the mood. We'll take the filet mignon, medium-well. And bring a basket of dinner rolls for the kid."
Pierre, entirely oblivious to the fact that he was inches away from a holy detonation, bowed deeply. "Right away, Monsieur!"
As the waiter hurried off, Malakor and Kaelen let out identical, shaking exhales, holding onto the backs of Maya's chair for physical support. Steam was lightly rising from their butler suits from the sheer proximity to the holy magic.
Elara slowly lowered her hands, looking at the glowing "candle" on the table, then up at Leo in complete shock. "Y-You... you caught it?" she whispered.
"Caught what?" Leo winked. "Just a table decoration, kiddo."
Maya leaned across the table, wiping a smudge of dirt off Elara's cheek. "You don't need to be scared of loud noises anymore, Elara. Not while we're around." She glanced over her shoulder at the two trembling Demon Lords. "Right, Jeeves?"
"N-No one shall ever startle the Young Miss again!" Malakor rasped, his demonic voice shaking. "If a waiter so much as sneezes too loudly, I will drag his soul to the Abyss!"
"Use your inside voice, Mal," Leo reminded him gently.
"Right. My apologies, Lord Leo. Soft, butler voices."