Arc I: Opening Night
Chapter 1: The Laughing Throne Emerges
Void. Infinite and colorless, the void between worlds hung still as a held breath. In that silent nothingness stood a single figure: Solus Mirthveil, lips curved in a smile both playful and arrogant. In his eyes danced the reflections of countless stars – no, of countless realities – as though he were choosing ingredients for a cocktail. With a casual snap of his fingers – a motion so small yet reverberating across creation – he stirred the void.
From Solus's fingertips spilled golden light, then a rich, rolling laughter. It was his laughter, echoing without end, carrying across the cosmic emptiness with a weight that made lesser gods shudder. That laughter became the foundation and name of his new creation. The Laughing Throne took form around him, at first a scatter of motes coalescing into beams and bricks, then walls and windows, expanding outward. He willed oak and iron, velvet and ever-burning hearthfire, and so they were.
The tavern came into existence simultaneously in not one world, but three. The fabric of reality bent like obedient silk under Solus's will. Where once there was only sky, now above three distant realms hung the impossible silhouette of a tavern – a massive structure of dark wood and golden light, suspended in the air without support. Its presence warped the clouds around it in swirling halos. Time itself hiccuped at the moment of its birth, an audible thrum rippling through each realm's spiritual veins.
In the Soul Society – the afterlife domain of the Shinigami – the sunlit morning paused. Captain Retsu Unohana, delicate fingers stilling over a parchment in her Fourth Division barracks, felt the air tremble. Her gentle smile faltered, eyes lifting to the ceiling. Deep within her, a long-buried bloodlust stirred, ancient and eager. A pressure had descended upon the Soul Society, one not felt even when the Wandenreich invaded. A spiritual pressure so vast and foreign that every captain felt their hearts pound in instinctive warning. Unohana's serene mask of the healer slipped for an instant, revealing the keen predator's gaze beneath. "What is this… presence?" she whispered, voice soft as death.
Across the Seireitei, perched atop a high tiled roof, Yoruichi Shihōin already stood alert, golden eyes narrowed at a distortion in the sky. The former Second Division captain had been enjoying a lazy afternoon in cat form when she sensed it – an immense reiatsu unlike any hollow or Quincy or familiar god. It was enough to make her tail bristle. Now in her human form, long purple-black hair fluttering in the sudden wind, Yoruichi witnessed a mirage take shape high above the Court of Pure Souls. It solidified into the impossible sight of a tavern's exterior, hanging as if the sky itself had grown an attic. "Well, that's not something you see every day," she murmured with wry humor, though her heart beat faster with excitement. Danger and intrigue – just the thing to alleviate a century of boredom.
With a flash step, she vanished, moving closer to inspect this floating curiosity. As she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, Yoruichi felt a grin tug at her lips. Whatever this was, it promised entertainment. She lived for surprises and this Laughing Throne, as proclaimed by a whimsical sign suddenly visible hanging from the tavern's entrance, was the biggest surprise yet.
Meanwhile, far beyond that plane, in a world of swords and sorcery called Orario, a goddess felt the call. Towering over Orario was Babel, the white spire that reached the heavens. Atop it, leaning on a balcony rail, Freya let silver hair spill forward as she peered into the sky. Her divine eyes – normally able to see the shining hues of souls across her city – now saw something else entirely. Above Orario, space bent and a golden light seeped through a tear in reality. A structure was forming, visible to mortal eyes now as a distant glowing speck beyond the clouds. Mortals in the streets paused, pointing upward; a low murmur of unease spread through the city.
Freya's heart thumped in her chest – a rare exhilaration she had not felt since first gazing upon the pure soul of Bell Cranel. But this was different. This presence was overwhelming – even to her, a goddess. It was as if a new star had appeared, one whose radiance threatened to outshine all else. And at the center of that radiance… was a soul? Freya's lips parted. Yes – there was a soul, or something akin to one, inside that tavern taking shape. It blazed with such intensity that her breath caught. She felt a heat on her cheeks, an eagerness swirling in her blood. What kind of being…? The goddess of beauty shivered in delight and intrigue. If Bell's soul was the pure flame that had drawn her obsessively, this one was a supernova – vast, uncontained, and enticing beyond reason. She had to meet its owner.
Without a second thought, Freya strode back inside, casting aside the guise of a simple barmaid she sometimes wore among mortals. This event demanded the true goddess. Her silver eyes gleamed with determination as she summoned a fragment of her power; normally the gods of Orario were forbidden from using Arcanum, but something told her that beyond that tear, the rules might be different. A gateway had opened atop Babel, and Freya needed only to step through.
In another realm altogether – the Monster Country Tempest, home to myriad demons and monsters under the rule of a slime-turned-Demon Lord – chaos was already afoot. Milim Nava, the Destroyer, felt the shockwave ripple through her chambers before any of the others. The pink-haired Demon Lord, who had been lazing on the roof of Rimuru's palace munching honey candy, froze mid-chew. Her red dragon-pupiled eyes went wide. A power – ancient, boundless – had appeared overhead, making the very air taste like crackling energy. "Woooah!" Milim sat up straight, her childlike voice echoing across the courtyard. Without waiting for guards or friends, she kicked off the roof and launched herself skyward, propelled by excitement. The wind whipped at her small frame as she ascended, aura flaring. She saw it then: a grand tavern suspended amidst swirling clouds above the Jura Forest.
Milim's blood raced. This aura, this place – it had to belong to someone really strong. Perhaps even stronger than her Uncle Veldora or Grandpa Veldanava… The thought made her grin fiercely. Finally, a new playmate! she thought. Perhaps a fight, or at least some fun. "Hehehe, ready or not, here comes Milim!" she shouted gleefully, creating a sonic boom as she accelerated towards the tavern's golden lights, leaving a trail of rainbow-colored Draconic aura in her wake.
Not far behind in the Tempest capital, another figure was on the move. Shion, the purple-haired Kijin bodyguard of Rimuru, had sensed the phenomenon too. She was less attuned than Milim, but the shock on her fellow monster's faces and the trembling of magicules in the air made it clear something big was happening. Perhaps an attack on Tempest? Shion's first instinct was to protect her beloved Rimuru-sama. She dashed to the highest tower, greatsword in hand, violet eyes scanning the horizon. Instead of an invading army, she found her gaze drawn upward, where light glinted off a structure among the clouds. Shion frowned in confusion, her warrior's heart pounding with anticipation. A floating building… here?
Before she could decide her next action, the streak that was Milim zoomed by overhead. Shion nearly toppled backwards at the sudden gust. "Milim-sama!" she called out, but the impulsive Demon Lord was already vanishing into the distance. Shion grit her teeth – if Milim was headed there, it could be dangerous, or at least too important to sit out. "I'm going too!" she declared to nobody in particular. Though duty told her to inform Rimuru, her pride and curiosity demanded action. Shion leapt high, channeling her immense strength to follow. Perhaps she couldn't match Milim's speed, but nothing could stop her once she set her mind. The towering ogress raced upward, determination blazing: she would meet this new anomaly head on.
And in a high plane of existence, beyond mortal ken, ripples of the tavern's birth stirred the great oceans of Ki and Dao. In the Celestial Lotus Palace under a dusky sky of a cultivation world, Empress Wuying opened her eyes from deep meditation. The incense in her ornate chamber had been trailing smoke languidly upward; now the smoke twitched, drawn sideways as if by a sudden breeze of fate. The Empress rose gracefully, silken robes flowing around a figure of imperial authority. She felt it – a tear in the fabric of the heavenly laws, a distortion in the Dao itself. Wuying moved to her balcony, overlooking her empire's endless mountains and clouds. There, above even her palace's highest spire, hung a beacon of golden light. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Someone dares disturb the heavens without my leave? Her title was no mere formality – as an immortal Empress, Wuying was said to have one foot beyond the mortal Dao. Yet this presence was unlike any tribulation or ascension she'd witnessed. It was both laughing and commanding, a paradox of mirth and dominance.
Summoning a sword that glowed moon-white, Empress Wuying sliced open reality itself – a skill only those who touched the edges of true immortality could attempt. The tear she made connected to that strange beacon. Without hesitation, she stepped through, a comet of blue celestial energy trailing behind the purple silks of her imperial gown.
Elsewhere in the same world, within the forbidden Black Jade Mountains, Yin Feixuan, the Demon Cult Leader, felt the familiar chill of fate changing course. Mid-ritual in a hall of flickering shadows, the pale-haired beauty paused, her ceremonial dagger hovering above a sacrificial altar. Something pulled at her dark heart – a promise of power or perhaps worthy adversary. The torch flames around her bent unnaturally toward the east, as if bowing. "What…?" Yin Feixuan's crimson lips curved into a dangerous smile. She sensed what the righteous sects might call an auspicious omen – but to her it was simply a challenge. The Demon Empress of the Yin-Yang Blood Sect would not be outdone by whatever cosmic trickery was afoot. Draping herself in shadows, she summoned a black mist and vanished, chasing the source of that celestial laughter with lethal intent and hungry curiosity.
At the Frozen Peak of Fairy Yue in the same realm, Fairy Yuechan – a woman known for her unparalleled beauty and her heart of ice – felt a crack in that very ice. She had sealed away emotions to cultivate the purest frosty sword intent, yet as the Laughing Throne manifested, a strange warmth bloomed in her chest. Surprised and alarmed at herself, Yuechan gazed at the horizon, where even her snow-laden skies glowed faintly gold. She knew it was folly to leave her sect's sacred ground, but something in that mirthful echo promised… something more than the lonely path of the sword. Clad in flowing white, Fairy Yuechan soared into the sky on a sword of crystal ice, following the pull of the tavern's aura like a falling star in reverse – rising toward heaven.
Within the mystical Land of Shadows, a gate opened by none other than Scáthach, the legendary Queen and mentor of heroes. Her amethyst eyes widened slightly as she felt an unprecedented ripple across her realm – a realm already perched at the edge of life and death. "This feeling…" she murmured, standing from the stone seat of her eternal solitude. For someone who believed she'd seen all that the Gods and Worlds could offer, this was new. A new gate? Not of my making. Indeed, a swirling vortex had formed unbidden at the far end of her desolate kingdom, its energies playful yet immeasurable. Scáthach's blood, long cooled by ennui, began to warm with interest. Could it be… an opponent worthy of ending her unkillable existence? Or perhaps a grand distraction from the centuries of monotony. Either way, the scent of battle and mystery reached her like an irresistible perfume. With a confident stride, Scáthach twirled her crimson spear once and stepped through the gate, not as a servant or invited hero, but as a queen answering a dare.
Far beyond, in other corners of creation, more felt the call. In a fairy-haunted Britain severed from history, a witch-queen in midnight armor rose from her throne, silvery gaze narrowed at the disturbance – Morgan le Fay would not remain idle. In a ruined French battleground, beneath a tattered flag, a dark avenger's flame flickered with uncertainty as Jeanne d'Arc Alter sensed an unfamiliar tug at her soul, equal parts threat and temptation. On the moonlit edge of a digital nirvana, a lilac-haired temptress – Sessyoin Kiara – breathed a laugh of anticipation, for that cosmic ripple promised new depths of indulgence to explore. And in a distant heavenly palace wreathed in dragon fire, Princess Long Ji of the Celestial Dragon Clan awakened from ancient slumber, her blood singing with the chance to measure herself against a power that shook the stars. One by one, each of these extraordinary women turned toward the Laughing Throne.
So it was that on this singular night, across disparate worlds, these powerful women – and many more – found themselves drawn to one nexus. A tavern born of laughter and arrogance, perched beyond place and time. The Laughing Throne's doors, heavy oak carved with leering draconic faces, swung open soundlessly in welcome as the first of these heroines arrived at its threshold. Unbeknownst to them, inside waited Solus Mirthveil, a man who considered creation his playground.
Solus reclined within on a grand chair upholstered in midnight velvet, one leg casually draped over the other, fingers steepled lightly. His tavern was ready – stocked with celestial wines and hell-brewed ales, its hearth casting a flicker of warm light over polished floors. Multicolored bottles glinted behind the bar like captured nebulae. Everything was prepared for his guests. He could feel them approaching: sparks of vibrant energy converging from the corners of the multiverse. Each was unique, a gleaming jewel of power and personality about to enter his treasure trove.
He tilted his head, listening to the tapestry of their arrivals – shocked gasps, war cries, cautious whispers – all music to his ears. Solus Mirthveil's grin widened, predatory and charming all at once.
"Let the games begin," he purred to himself, as the very first shadow darkened the tavern's doorway, heralding the start of a night that would reshape worlds.
Chapter 2: First Encounters at The Laughing Throne
A silhouette paused at the threshold, framed by the golden glow spilling from within the tavern's open door. Yoruichi Shihōin stepped inside soundlessly, barefoot and poised on the balls of her feet as if entering an enemy's lair. Her keen gaze swept over the interior. For all the tavern's impossible exterior, the inside felt surprisingly warm and inviting at first glance. Lantern-light danced on polished wooden beams. A massive hearth on one side cast flickers across plush chairs and a bar of carved mahogany. It might have been cozy were it not for the electric tension thrumming in the air – the undeniable aura of power emanating from the lone figure within.
Yoruichi's eyes immediately locked onto him. Lounging as though it were a casual evening sat a man of striking presence – the one she could only assume was responsible for that cataclysmic spiritual pressure. Solus Mirthveil, she remembered the sign outside. Up close, he looked oddly at ease in this chaos of cosmic convergence he'd caused. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he regarded her, like a king amused by a jester's arrival. Yoruichi felt a small thrill of annoyance and intrigue. It wasn't often anyone looked at her with such casual confidence. Dressed in her sleeveless orange top and form-fitting black bodysuit, she was used to commanding attention on her terms. But his golden eyes – almost as golden as hers – regarded her not with shock or fear, but with playful appraisal.
"Welcome, Princess of the Shihōin," Solus drawled, his voice rich as spiced wine. He lifted a hand in a mock-toast, an empty crystal glass between his fingers. "You're quick on your feet. I do enjoy punctual guests."
Yoruichi raised an eyebrow, folding her arms loosely. The sound of his voice sent a curious shiver through her – as if each word carried a latent energy that tickled at her skin. She hid the reaction behind a broad grin. "You know who I am. That saves time," she replied breezily. "Though I prefer just Yoruichi. 'Princess' is far too stuffy for me." She took a few casual steps forward, hips swaying with her characteristic feline grace as she pretended to examine the place. In truth, she was sizing him up. No visible zanpakutō, no obvious reiatsu signature like a shinigami or hollow, yet the sheer pressure rolling off him was intense. It prickled at her skin like static. "So, Mister Solus… I take it this lovely little pub of yours is what caused that big commotion outside?"
Solus inclined his head, not rising from his relaxed posture on the velvet throne-like chair at the head of the room. "Guilty as charged," he said lightly. He watched her with a wolfish amusement. "The Laughing Throne tends to announce itself with a bang. Apologies if I startled your people, Yoruichi." He spoke her name familiarly, almost purring it. "Though from what I know, you enjoy a good surprise."
Yoruichi chuckled, pretending a nonchalance she didn't entirely feel. She closed the distance, daringly hopping up to sit on the bar counter, one leg crossed over the other. It put her nearly at eye level with him across the room. "Life's boring without surprises," she parried. "And I can't say I've ever seen a surprise quite like this." Her amber eyes glinted. "A floating tavern bridging worlds, is it? Sounds like something Kisuke would dream up on a bad day."
Solus laughed – a low, melodic sound that made Yoruichi's stomach flutter unexpectedly. "Bridging worlds… that's one way to put it. I prefer to think of it as hosting a party for some very special guests." He set the empty glass down on a side table and finally rose from his seat in one fluid motion. Yoruichi tensed subtly – he was taller than she'd estimated, and there was a coiled strength in the way he moved. It reminded her of a hunting cat, which both piqued her interest and put her on guard.
"Easy now," Solus murmured, noticing the minute shift in her stance. He walked toward her at an unhurried pace. Each footstep was silent, yet each seemed to echo in Yoruichi's ears. She found herself uncrossing her legs, ready to spring if needed. Yet he merely stopped a couple of arm's lengths away, respecting her space with a knowing smirk. "I mean you no harm, unless harm is what you seek. I imagine you have questions."
Before Yoruichi could answer, a tremendous crash interrupted the charged silence. The entire tavern shook as the double doors exploded open, slamming against the interior walls. A whirlwind of rainbow-colored energy whooshed in, overturning an empty chair and scattering a stack of coasters from the bar. Yoruichi was on her feet in an instant, her flash step carrying her atop a ceiling rafter out of reflex. Solus merely turned, unperturbed, as the chaos resolved into a petite, pink-haired girl floating a few feet above the threshold.
"Yahoo! What is this place?!" Milim Nava shouted exuberantly. Her red eyes sparkled as she surveyed the tavern. She had one hand planted on her hip and the other still crackling with residual energy from having all but busted down the door. Milim's arrival was like a miniature hurricane – raw, unfiltered power radiated from her small frame, shaking the air. "I smelled something super fun, and here I am!" she announced.
Solus chuckled and made a subtle gesture with his hand. The scattered coasters and toppled chair righted themselves at his silent command, the tavern settling once more as if welcoming the energetic destruction as part of the merriment. "And here I thought my door was open already," he quipped. "No need to break it down, little one."
Milim's gaze snapped to Solus. At first she pouted – being called 'little one' never sat well with the ancient Demon Lord who happened to look like a teenager. But as she felt Solus's aura wash over her, the pout gave way to a wide grin. She dropped to the floor with a light thud and pointed dramatically at him. "You! You're the strong presence I felt!" she exclaimed. "Hehehe, you are strong, I can tell." Without any further warning, Milim lunged forward in a blur of motion, cocking back her fist mid-leap, clearly intending to land a friendly – if bone-shattering – punch square on Solus's chest.
Yoruichi's eyes widened. This pink-haired kid was fast – almost faster than she herself could track, and the spiritual power bundled in that small fist was terrifying. On instinct, Yoruichi tensed to intervene or at least get clear of the impending impact. Solus, however, moved with blinding ease. Just as Milim's punch rocketed toward him, he lifted a single finger.
Thump. Milim stopped short, suspended in mid-air a mere foot away from Solus's chest. His finger was pressed lightly against her forehead. He had intercepted her charge so casually it almost looked like a joke. Milim's eyes crossed slightly, focusing on the finger now poking her between the brows. "Eh—?" was all she managed, legs still kicking slightly off the ground. She strained forward, but some invisible force held her frozen in place. Solus hadn't even budged from where he stood.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm," Solus said, that unflappable grin never leaving his face. "But let's keep things civil for now, shall we? There are breakables around." He inclined his head meaningfully toward the rows of glimmering bottles on the bar and the delicate lanterns overhead.
Milim hung there a moment longer, fists still clenched, processing what had happened. Yoruichi, from her perch above, was equally stunned. He stopped her cold… with one finger. A bead of sweat rolled down Yoruichi's temple. She knew how to gauge opponents, and this Solus – whatever he was – had just nonchalantly halted a strike that could have leveled a city block. The ease of it sent a thrill of both caution and excitement through her. Effortless domination indeed, she mused silently, recalling the immense pressure she'd sensed.
Then, unexpectedly, Milim burst out laughing. "Ahahah! That was awesome! You're really really strong!" she crowed. Instead of frustration, her face showed pure exhilaration. Solus removed his finger from her forehead, and Milim dropped lightly to the floor. Rather than attacking again, she bounced on her heels energetically. "Who are you? Wait, let me guess – you're the owner of this cool place? Did you make it just now? Can we fight later? Oooh! And do you have food? I'm starving!" The questions tumbled out of her in a gleeful tirade.
Solus's laughter joined hers, though his was more a refined chuckle. "I admire your spirit," he said. "Yes, I am the owner here – Solus Mirthveil, at your service." He offered Milim a small bow, which made her giggle (no one ever bowed to her so casually). "There will be plenty of time to spar, I promise. And food? But of course. What kind of tavern would this be without a feast?" With a snap of his fingers, a menu card popped into existence, hovering in front of Milim. She snatched it eagerly.
Yoruichi finally dropped down from the rafter, landing silently behind the bar. She figured if this Solus intended harm, he would have done something far worse to Milim just then. For now, she'd roll with this strange situation. Besides, the smell wafting from the hearth and the mention of food reminded her she hadn't had lunch. Still, she didn't let her guard fully down. Instead, she watched keenly while Milim squinted at the menu that had appeared, her lips moving as she mouthed foreign dish names with growing delight.
Before any further calm could establish itself, another presence quietly made itself known. A subtle shift in the air pressure, a whisper of silk on wood – Yoruichi's sharp senses picked up on it first. At the far end of the tavern hall, opposite the main door, a shadow emerged as if from thin air. It was a woman, tall and composed, stepping out of an oval portal rimmed with pale light that vanished behind her as quickly as it came.
Clad in flowing imperial robes of deep purple and gold embroidery, the newcomer carried herself with regal authority. Her eyes, a cold moonlit silver, swept over the room and its occupants. Empress Wuying had arrived. Her delicate jaw tightened slightly at the sight of others already present – she had not expected competition for the source of power she sensed. Nonetheless, she held her chin high. "Who among you is the master of this place?" Wuying asked evenly, though the undertone of command was unmistakable.
Solus turned from Milim and inclined his head politely to the Empress. "That would be me," he answered, raising a hand in a mild wave. "Solus Mirthveil, proprietor of The Laughing Throne. Welcome, Empress." He gestured to the room, as if inviting her to look around. "Please, make yourself comfortable. We were just getting started."
Wuying's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at Solus's casual tone. In her realm, even the highest sect leaders trembled when she spoke. Yet this man addressed her as one might an old acquaintance – even using her title with a lilt of amusement. "You know who I am," she stated, not asked, as she stepped further in. Her ornate hair ornaments chimed softly with each measured step. "Then you know you tread on dangerous ground, Solus Mirthveil."
Milim, still holding her menu, looked up at Wuying curiously. "Hey, who's the fancy lady?" she stage-whispered to Yoruichi, who had circled back around the bar towards the center of the room. Yoruichi shrugged one shoulder lightly, eyes still on the unfolding interaction.
Solus did not seem ruffled in the slightest by Wuying's subtle threat. In fact, he flashed a dazzling smile, inclining his torso in a courteous bow that somehow still felt teasing. "I assure you, Your Majesty, this ground might be mine, but all are equal guests under my roof. Dangerous or not, you are most welcome here."
Empress Wuying's lips pressed together, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. Solus's aura hit her fully now – an impenetrable wall of power that even her centuries of cultivation might not surmount. The realization made her heart quicken in a mix of indignation and an unexpected thrill. How long had it been since she'd encountered anyone she wasn't sure she could conquer? Still, she maintained her composure. "Hmph. We shall see." She let her sleeves fall gracefully at her sides. "If hospitality is truly your intent, then I accept it… for now."
The front doors creaked again, this time without being blasted apart. All eyes turned as a newcomer entered from the Orario side. Freya, goddess of beauty, stepped across the threshold as if onto a grand stage. Her every movement was poetry – silver hair glimmering, hips swaying in a gown of midnight black that clung to her divine form. For a moment, a hush fell. Even Milim quieted, blinking at the radiant woman. An ordinary person would have been instantly bewitched by Freya's aura of allure, but those present were anything but ordinary. Still, they felt the impact of her presence like a soft gust carrying the scent of desire.
Freya's lips curved in a gentle smile as she took in the scene: a cat-like woman behind the bar, a childlike demon lord bouncing on her heels, a proud regal beauty eyeing everyone like challengers, and…him. Her target, the reason her heart was fluttering in her chest as it never had for eons. Solus. Her gray-purple eyes locked onto him, dilating ever so slightly. In that moment, the goddess of love and longing felt a spear of emotion strike through her – intrigue, covetousness, a hint of envy at the others around him, and a deep, undeniable attraction.
Solus returned her gaze with equal intensity, but where Freya's eyes simmered with sudden longing, his danced with mirth. "Lady Freya," he greeted smoothly, "I was wondering when you'd arrive."
Freya glided forward. She did not bother to question how he knew her name – gods simply know each other, she would assume, though he was no deity she'd ever met. "I came as swiftly as I could," she said, voice musical and calm, belying the rapid beat of her immortal heart. She offered Solus a slow, bewitching smile. "It seems I'm in esteemed company already." Her gaze flickered to the others only briefly, as if noting minor details. Inwardly, Freya appraised each: The dark-skinned woman had a dangerous ease about her, the childlike girl was clearly monstrously powerful, and the robed one emanated authority and cultivation. None appeared to be simple mortals. Rivals? The thought coiled in Freya's mind, but she kept her expression cordial.
"The more the merrier," Solus replied, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Allow me to introduce everyone." He proceeded with a showman's flair. "Yoruichi Shihōin, of Soul Society's finest; Milim Nava, Demon Lord extraordinaire; Empress Wuying of the Celestial Lotus; and you, Lady Freya, Goddess of Love and Beauty from Orario." He bowed theatrically. "Truly a pantheon of remarkable women under one roof. Exactly as intended."
The introduction put a spark in the air. Yoruichi gave a little wave from where she leaned against the bar, casual but eyes keen. Milim puffed out her chest proudly at her grand title, then immediately went back to trying to decide between five different meats on the menu. Empress Wuying inclined her head stiffly when named, acknowledging the others only with a cool glance. Freya responded with a courteous nod and a serene smile – masking the competitive glint in her eyes.
"Intended, hm?" Yoruichi remarked, honing in on Solus's last words. "So you did plan all this. Care to share what game you're playing, Solus?" She tossed a coaster she'd picked up, flipping it dexterously between her fingers to show her nonchalance, but her gaze was sharp.
Solus walked to the center of the room, hands clasped leisurely behind his back. The disparate group subtly formed a loose circle around him – whether by his subtle guidance or natural gravitation, none could tell. "No games, only an offer," he said smoothly. "This tavern exists beyond the boundaries of your worlds. A neutral ground, a meeting place, a playground… call it what you will. I opened it to meet individuals of significance – those who have transcended or broken the limits of their own realms." His eyes glinted, moving over each of their faces. "Legends. Queens. Goddesses. I'm curious what might happen when such stars collide."
Freya's smile grew as she listened. His voice was captivating; even without consciously using charm, he commanded attention as naturally as breathing. He assembled us for his own amusement? she thought. It was so audacious it made her blood warm. She, who manipulated lives for entertainment, found herself cast as a piece in someone else's scheme. It was both infuriating and irresistibly alluring. "An experiment of sorts, is it?" she asked lightly. "And what do you hope to gain from this… gathering of luminaries?"
Solus met her gaze and held it as he replied, "Why, only a memorable night, of course." His tone dripped with suggestion, a flirtatious undercurrent that was not lost on anyone present.
Yoruichi chuckled under her breath, Milim tilted her head quizzically at the subtext, and Empress Wuying's eyes flashed as she grasped the implications and perhaps felt a twinge of offense – or was it anticipation? The goddess Freya herself felt a subtle heat rise to her cheeks. A mortal man openly flirting with her would usually be laughable, but Solus was clearly no mere mortal. For once, she found herself slightly off-balance, the target of a charm offensive rather than the source.
Scarcely had the tension of that loaded statement settled when a new voice echoed from the doorway: low, calm, and edged with iron. "A curious premise. I wonder how your experiment handles uninvited variables."
In the entrance stood a woman in a flowing black Shinigami uniform, a white captain's haori draped over her shoulders. Her dark hair was tied in a long braid down her front. On her face was a serene, polite smile – yet the air around her felt like a quiet pond above unfathomable depths. Retsu Unohana had arrived, her gentle voice carrying across the tavern. Yoruichi stiffened slightly; she recognized that tone, that presence. One of the most senior Captains of the Gotei 13, the healer with the smile of a saint and the aura… of a sheathed sword.
"Unohana Retsu," Yoruichi greeted with a respectful nod. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Unohana's soft eyes flickered upward toward Yoruichi perched by the bar, then to the others. "I felt a disturbance that could not be ignored," she said kindly. She moved into the tavern with gliding steps. Some instinct made Empress Wuying and Freya both take note – there was power in this newcomer too, though wrapped in an oddly gentle package. Milim just thought the lady seemed nice (Milim wasn't great at reading hidden menace). Solus watched Unohana keenly, an intrigued smile playing on his lips. "I see I'm not the only one who answered the call," Unohana continued. "Quite the gathering indeed." She folded her hands within her sleeves, a picture of calm.
Solus gave the healer-captain a gracious nod. "The pleasure is mine. Your reputation precedes you, Captain Unohana." If he was surprised at her arrival, he did not show it. In truth, he was delighted – the more, the merrier, as he said. "Please, join us. We were just… getting to know each other."
Unohana's eyes lingered on Solus. Yoruichi noticed a subtle shift in the older woman's expression – it was brief, but in that moment Unohana's placid facade nearly slipped, like a tigress peering out from behind a mask of tranquility. Solus's presence had that effect on everyone, it seemed: drawing out their deeper nature.
One by one, each of these extraordinary figures had converged here, each with their own suspicions and hopes. Now, inside The Laughing Throne, they formed a motley assemblage of worlds and powers. Solus, at the center, radiated satisfaction. The opening chords of the night had been struck, and the melody of fates entwining was about to swell.
Chapter 3: Whispers and Wild Entrances
Unnoticed by many amid the tavern's initial commotion, a solitary figure stood in a shadowed alcove near the grand hearth. Scáthach had arrived quietly moments after Yoruichi and Milim, slipping into the hall through a violet rift that closed without fanfare. The legendary Queen of the Land of Shadows observed the unfolding scene with arms folded and back against a wooden pillar, as if she were part of the decor.
Her wine-red eyes flicked from one newcomer to the next, coolly appraising. She watched Solus deftly handle the exuberant Demon Lord's punch with a single finger, noting the efficiency and measured strength – enough to halt Milim, yet not harm her. He's holding back immensely, Scáthach deduced. That realization stirred her blood. It had been ages since she'd seen anyone play at power so effortlessly. A hint of a smile ghosted her lips.
Scáthach remained content to observe for now, a huntress sizing up both prey and fellow predators. None of the others had detected her presence yet – a testament to her craft in concealing herself. Well, none except Solus. Scáthach had caught the host glance toward her corner when she first arrived, raising his glass subtly in acknowledgment before turning back to greet the others. He knew she was there; he allowed her this vantage without comment. She respected that silent understanding.
The atmosphere in The Laughing Throne was growing heady with power. Scáthach could almost see the auras overlapping – divine energies, magical vibrations, spiritual pressures, and battle-honed killing intent. It was like standing in the eye of a storm comprised of legends. And at the center: Solus, the calm orchestrator. Scáthach felt a tingle of anticipation in her fingertips. Perhaps, by night's end, she would test this being herself. For now, she watched and waited, her warrior's intuition prickling – something was about to happen.
Near the entrance, Empress Wuying had positioned herself regally by an empty high-backed chair, quietly gauging the others with imperial detachment. Freya and Artemis – the two goddesses – were engaged in polite conversation with Solus not far away, their tones courteous but eyes subtly competing for his attention. Yoruichi and Milim had gravitated toward each other at the bar, the former pouring the hyperactive Demon Lord a cup of milk as a lighthearted peace offering ("Milk's good for growing girls," Yoruichi teased, earning an indignant huff from Milim and a giggle from Shion, who had by now found her way to Milim's side). Captain Unohana stood not far from Wuying, her hands still folded serenely in her sleeves as she listened, ever the picture of a gentle healer – though Scáthach did not miss the razor-thin edge hidden in the woman's gaze as it rested on Solus.
It was in this relative lull – a quiet moment between introductions – that the tavern's double doors eased open once more. This time, there was no dramatic blast or blinding portal. Instead, a shimmer of darkness slipped inside, hugging the edges of the room. The lantern lights dimmed as if a cloud had passed over them. Scáthach's eyes sharpened on the motion – she alone immediately perceived the intruder for what it was: Yin Feixuan, come at last, veiled in shadows.
The Demon Cult Leader's entrance was subtle where others had been grand. A thin mist, black as ink, trickled along the floorboards announcing her presence. Within that inky haze, a lithe woman materialized, pallid hair flowing around a face of haunting beauty and cruel intent. Yin Feixuan's eyes gleamed a bloody crimson as she beheld the gathering. Her lips curved into a predatory smirk. So many powerful figures… but her focus honed in on one target with singular malice: Empress Wuying.
Yin Feixuan had no love for the Celestial Empress even in their home world; to see her here only stoked old enmity. And beside Wuying stood Fairy Yuechan, the pristine ice fairy of a righteous sect – another thorn in the Demon Empress's side. To Yin, it was an irresistible opportunity. Why not eliminate two rivals under the guise of this chaos? The others might not even interfere, not knowing their histories.
With serpentine grace, Yin glided forward, her form half-dissolved into the surrounding shadows. Tendrils of darkness snaked ahead of her, silent as death, as she circled toward Wuying's back. The Empress, busy trading guarded pleasantries with Unohana, didn't notice the encroaching danger – but Scáthach did.
High above, fixed to a ceiling beam, a heavy iron chandelier suddenly began to tremble – the only sign of Yin's subtle murderous intent as she prepared a strike infused with dark qi. Scáthach pushed off the pillar, standing straight. Her instincts sang. In a flash of violet, the queen of shadows leapt, leaving only an afterimage behind.
Just as Yin Feixuan's dagger-like shard of darkness shot forward toward Wuying's unprotected flank, another spear – a crimson blur – clashed against it mid-air. Sparks of violet and black energy crackled, startling the entire room. Gasps rose as eyes turned to the source of the sudden conflict. Scáthach now stood between Empress Wuying and Yin Feixuan, her crimson Gáe Bolg Alternative extended to parry the sneaky attack. Her long, purple braid swayed as she tilted her head at the would-be assassin.
"Tch… meddlesome," Yin hissed, solidifying out of the darkness a few paces away. She had been thwarted inches from her quarry. The entire tavern was now tense, combat-ready. Milim hopped off her barstool, excitement lighting up her features again. Yoruichi dropped into a low fighting stance atop the counter, ready to flash step. Empress Wuying spun around, eyes wide with anger at having been nearly taken unawares. Fairy Yuechan stepped forward from Wuying's side, her slender hand already on the hilt of her sheathed sword, face calm but eyes blazing with cold fury toward Yin Feixuan.
Solus alone seemed unsurprised. He sighed with something like mock disappointment. "Now, now," he drawled lightly, though his voice carried effortlessly through the tavern. "I invited you here to mingle, not to murder each other at first sight." Despite the chastisement in his words, he wore a slight smile – as if even this violence was all part of the night's entertainment.
Yin Feixuan sneered, not lowering the curved daggers that had manifested in her hands. "Stay out of this, outsider. This is a long-awaited reckoning." Her eyes flicked past Scáthach toward Wuying, hatred evident. "Empress Wuying, high and mighty even beyond our world, hm? Perhaps tonight the heavens will witness your fall."
Wuying's face was cold as ice, though her chest rose and fell quickly with adrenaline. Being caught off guard had wounded her pride. She opened her fan with a flick of her wrist and held it before her chin in a posture of composed fury. "Yin Feixuan," she spoke the name like a curse. "It seems even across universes, rats remain rats. Attempting an assassination in a room full of legends… have you truly lost your mind?"
Yin's smile only widened, but before she could retort, Scáthach gently spun her spear, breaking the stalemate. Her voice cut through the tension with calm authority. "If you two wish to duel to the death," Scáthach said, "perhaps save it for a more fitting arena. Right now, you risk disrespecting our host." She nodded subtly toward Solus.
Yin Feixuan narrowed her eyes at the interruption. "And who do you think you are, woman, to interpose yourself?" In her home world, few dared challenge the Demon Sect leader directly. It galled her that this stranger had intervened.
Scáthach's lips curled in a faint, mirthless smile. "Someone who's been killing would-be murderers since long before your great-grandparents were born, child." The casual claim made a few brows lift among the listeners. Yoruichi let out a low whistle. Milim whispered to Shion, "Ooo, she's scary!" with evident admiration.
Yin's face flushed with anger at being called 'child'. She tensed, shadows flaring around her. But before the conflict could escalate further, another figure barreled straight into the fray – quite literally.
"Milim! Wait for meeee!" came a hearty female shout from the doorway. A tall, purple-haired woman with a curvaceous figure stormed in, breathing hard as if she'd been running a marathon. It was Shion, finally arrived. In her single-minded rush to catch up to her Demon Lord friend, she failed to register the standoff in front of her and collided directly with Yin Feixuan.
The Demon Cult Leader let out a very undignified "Oof!" as Shion's momentum sent them both tumbling. Yin ended up sprawled on the floor, her misty aura scattering in surprise, while Shion blinked and quickly scrambled to her feet. "Ah! Sorry, I'm sorry!" Shion blurted, half-bowing. She assumed she'd simply knocked over some random patron.
Realizing she had inadvertently tackled an angry assassin, Shion's apologetic smile turned into a confused frown as Yin Feixuan rose, trembling with indignation. A few of the others stifled laughter. Yoruichi was grinning widely at the sudden comic relief; even Solus pressed knuckles to his lips to hide a chuckle.
"You lumbering oaf…!" Yin spat, mortified at the spectacle. Her pale cheeks tinged red – whether from rage or embarrassment at being toppled so easily. She flexed her fingers, summoning a coil of black flame to her palm. "I'll –"
"Shion, watch out!" Milim shouted. But Shion, battle-honed herself, had already sensed the killing intent. In a flash, she grabbed the nearest object – which happened to be a heavy oak chair – and swung it with ogre strength. The chair smashed into Yin's midsection before the woman could unleash her spell, sending the Demon Leader skidding backward across the floor. Gasps and a few snorts of laughter echoed as Yin ended up in a heap for the second time in a minute, the remnants of the shattered chair clattering around her.
Freya raised an eyebrow and murmured dryly, "Well, that's one way to take a seat." Her comment earned a stifled laugh from Yoruichi.
Groaning, Yin Feixuan pushed debris off herself. Any pretense of dignity was now thoroughly in tatters. She glared venomously at Shion, who now stood holding only the chair's handle – the rest of it splintered on impact. Shion gave an apologetic shrug, though a small satisfied grin tugged at her lips. "Reflex," she said innocently.
Before Yin could launch into another furious assault, Solus clapped his hands once. The sharp sound commanded everyone's attention like a crack of thunder. In that instant, the scattered shadows and lingering energy in the tavern dissipated as if a pressure wave had washed it clean. Yin's conjured flames winked out; the broken wood pieces from the chair flew back together and mended themselves in Shion's hands, startling her into dropping the now-intact chair. The tavern itself seemed to enforce Solus's will: No fighting, unless he permitted it.
"Ladies," Solus said, tone polite yet carrying unmistakable authority. "While I do appreciate enthusiasm, I must remind you this is a house of camaraderie tonight. There will be ample opportunity to settle personal scores or prove your strength—perhaps even with a tournament of sorts—" at this, Milim and Shion perked up, and Scáthach's eyes glinted keenly, "—but for now, let us restrain ourselves from destroying the furniture or each other."
Yin Feixuan seethed silently, but she knew a losing battle when she saw one. The power Solus had just exerted in that clap was beyond anything she could challenge. She rose to her feet, smoothing her disheveled robes with as much dignity as she could salvage, and slunk off to a corner, shooting glares at Shion, Wuying, and really anyone who dared meet her gaze. Fairy Yuechan let out a breath she'd been holding and relaxed her stance, though she kept a wary eye on Yin. Wuying nodded her thanks to Scáthach for the intervention, which Scáthach answered with a simple nod of her own before retaking her shadowed leaning post.
Shion, oblivious to much of the subtext, cheerfully trotted over to Milim. "I finally made it! Rimuru's gonna scold me for running off, but how could I miss this?" She threw a friendly arm around the smaller girl's shoulders. Milim beamed, offering Shion a sip of her milk, which Shion accepted with a grin. "So what'd I miss?" Shion asked, as if she hadn't just flung a cult leader across the room.
Solus shook his head, smiling despite himself at the ogress's brazen nonchalance. This was chaos indeed, but it was his chaos. Exactly as planned.
The door to the Orario side portal shimmered again, drawing everyone's attention anew. This time, a pale silver light preceded the entrant. Artemis stepped through, her arrival quiet yet commanding in its serenity. The goddess of the moon and hunt held a silver bow in her hand, though she kept it lowered as she took in the room. Her turquoise hair, gently glowing, framed a face of ethereal beauty and resolve.
Freya's eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Artemis. It was not often one saw the virgin moon goddess on the mortal plane – and by the stunned look on Artemis's own face, she hadn't expected to find Freya here either. A brief, charged silence fell between the two deities. Their histories were not deeply entwined, but conceptually, they were foils: one celebrated mortal love and passion, the other eschewed it for chastity and duty.
"Freya." Artemis acknowledged her fellow goddess with a polite nod, though her posture was stiff. She respected Freya's power, but distrusted her capricious ways. "I sensed an imbalance… I see now you were drawn here as well."
Freya offered a radiant smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "Artemis. It has been a long time." She glanced briefly at the bow in Artemis's hand. "No monsters to hunt here, I'm afraid."
"Perhaps not," Artemis replied evenly, "though I know better than to assume anything in a place like this." Her gaze drifted to Solus, and her breath caught. The mortal-looking man emanated a presence unlike any god she knew. If Freya's allure was like a warm, irresistible breeze, Solus's was a gravity well – impossible not to be drawn toward. Artemis felt a faint blush on her cheeks and quickly schooled her features into neutrality. "You must be the one responsible," she said to Solus.
Solus stepped forward with an inviting smile. "Guilty as charged," he replied, echoing his earlier words to Yoruichi. "Solus Mirthveil, at your service. And you, unless I miss my mark, are Lady Artemis. Welcome to The Laughing Throne." He bowed gallantly.
Artemis inclined her head, cautious but courteous. "Thank you… for the invitation, if it can be called that," she said softly. "I was compelled to come. I trust there is a purpose to all this?" Ever direct, the huntress goddess wasted no time.
"All in due course," Solus answered. His tone was smooth, yet carried just enough teasing mystery to make Artemis bite back further questions.
A metallic clink announced the arrival of another behind Artemis. A slim young woman with golden hair and golden eyes stepped out from behind the goddess, having quietly followed in her wake. Ais Wallenstein, the Sword Princess of Orario, had come as well. She stood gripping the sheath of her rapier, gaze alert but also awestruck by the power in the room.
Freya's smile curved up when she noticed Ais. Oh? Little Ais made her way here too. The goddess of beauty had long been aware of Loki's prized child – the girl who had, unintentionally, made Freya feel pangs of jealousy over Bell. To see Ais here was a surprise. For her part, Ais looked warily at Freya, conscious of the goddess's overwhelming charm aura but resisting it through sheer focus.
Lefiya had insisted on coming, but Ais had convinced her and the rest of Loki Familia to stay behind – she needed to see this through herself, she'd argued. In truth, Ais felt the same pull as the others, a magnetic whisper of promise that a new challenge lay here. And Ais lived for challenges; anything that might make her strong enough to one day defeat the One-Eyed Dragon was something she had to pursue.
She stepped forward, meeting Solus's eyes. The moment she did, Ais felt her heart skip a beat. She had expected a fearsome warlord or a terrifying monster from the aura she sensed. Instead, this handsome, relaxed man regarded her kindly, even warmly. She didn't know how to deal with that. Ais was inexperienced with warm male attention – the only boy near her was Bell, and he usually was the flustered one. Now the tables were turned; she felt an inexplicable heat rise in her face.
"Welcome, Ais Wallenstein," Solus greeted gently. "Or should I say Sword Princess? I'm flattered Orario's mightiest adventurer graces my hall."
Ais's cheeks definitely felt hot now. She cleared her throat softly. "Just Ais… is fine. And I'm… not the mightiest," she answered in her soft, terse way. That was likely Finn or Ottar by reputation, she thought – she didn't consider herself the best, only someone striving.
"How modest," Solus chuckled. "In any case, you are among peers here." He gestured around at the assembled extraordinary women. Ais followed his gesture and dipped her head politely to the room in general, unsure of etiquette. Yoruichi flashed the shy-looking girl a friendly grin. Milim waved enthusiastically ("Hi hi! I'm Milim!" she called, causing Shion to elbow her, whispering, "Not so loud, Milim…"). Empress Wuying gave a small nod of acknowledgement; being from a world without concept of otherworldly adventurers, she merely saw Ais as another armed youth. Artemis stepped aside to stand near Solus, inadvertently closer to Freya – the two goddesses instinctively flanked him on either side now, like night and day personified. Freya reached out and gently twirled a lock of silver hair around her finger, watching Artemis and smirking when Artemis stiffened at her proximity.
In the wake of Artemis and Ais's arrival, a brief calm settled over the tavern once more. The main hall was now lively with nearly a dozen of the most formidable women across existence: some nursing drinks (Yoruichi slid Ais a cup of water to welcome her, which the swordswoman accepted with a small bow), some shooting daggers from their eyes (Yin Feixuan in her corner, separated from the others by choice; she glared whenever her gaze met Wuying's or Shion's, rubbing her ribs sourly), and others quietly chatting (Unohana had struck up a gentle conversation with Fairy Yuechan about the art of healing; the old captain's kind aura made even the icy fairy relax slightly).
Solus watched over it all, moving among the clusters of guests like a king among courtiers, though it was he who served them. With a wave of his hand, he summoned forth spectral servants – glowing humanoid figures that carried trays of exotic refreshments. Goblets of fine wine poured themselves; platters of fruits and delicacies appeared on tables for picking. The smell of ambrosia and spice filled the air.
"Please, everyone," Solus announced, "enjoy yourselves. This is, after all, a tavern beyond time. Relax. Drink. Talk." He flashed a grin. "The night is still young."
Scáthach finally moved from her spot, drawn perhaps by the offer of wine. She approached one of the floating trays and took a goblet. As she did, Unohana's soft voice spoke nearby, "Your spear is magnificent. I confess I've rarely seen such fluid skill." The purple-haired lancer turned to find the gentle Soul Reaper at her elbow, offering a serene smile.
"High praise, coming from the famed healer of Soul Society," Scáthach replied. She did not mention that she sensed the true beast lurking behind Unohana's calm exterior – but her red eyes flashed knowingly, and Unohana's smile gained a secretive edge, as if acknowledging the unspoken understanding. A warrior's respect passed between them.
At another corner, Shion was enthusiastically devouring a large hunk of roasted meat that the spectral servants had provided ("Mmm! Rimuru never had this in the fridge!" she mumbled between bites). Milim alternated between gulping sweets and peppering Ais with questions: "So, you're an adventurer? Are there cool fights in your world? You have a dragon to fight? I love dragons!" Ais, a bit overwhelmed by Milim's energy, answered quietly about the Dungeon and the One-Eyed Black Dragon, which made Milim practically vibrate with excitement at the idea of a legendary dragon battle. Artemis looked on with a fond smile at the bubbly Demon Lord – the girl reminded her a bit of certain overly eager young adventurers she'd guided long ago.
Freya, meanwhile, took a sip of divine wine, her gaze seldom leaving Solus as he moved about playing gracious host. Each time someone engaged him – be it Artemis asking about the vintage of the wine, or Wuying coolly questioning how he acquired such rare delicacies – Freya felt a tug of possessiveness. She sidled closer to Solus whenever he was free, eventually catching his arm in a gentle hold. "Perhaps you might sit a moment, Sir Solus," she purred, her voice like liquid velvet. "Even the host deserves a rest."
Solus looked down at Freya, amused. "Concerned for me, Lady Freya?" he teased. "How kind." He did allow her to guide him toward a couch by the fireplace. Freya's heart fluttered in triumph as she sat gracefully at his side – only for that feeling to be immediately tested as Artemis strode up and, with all the innocent frankness of a huntress, offered Solus a beautifully wrought silver goblet. "Here. A drink for our host," Artemis said, her eyes earnest. She had chosen a nectarine nectar, a symbol of the moon's grace, to present. Solus accepted it with thanks, while Freya's smile tightened almost imperceptibly.
On Solus's other flank, Artemis took a seat as well, composed yet faintly blushing when Solus toasted, "To wondrous company," and clinked her goblet. The goddess of the moon had to admit, privately, that sitting so near a man – especially one radiating such masculine allure – was a novel experience for her. She could feel the warmth on her skin where his sleeve brushed hers. It was… not unpleasant, to her own slight alarm.
Freya, sensing Artemis's subtle shyness, smirked and leaned in towards Solus, lightly resting a hand on his shoulder as she laughed at something he said. Artemis bristled and scooted a fraction closer on the other side.
Solus enjoyed every second of this wordless tug-of-war for his attention. He made sure to give both women an equal share of charming remarks. To Artemis, he spoke of the beauty of the moonlight filtering through the tavern's stained-glass window (which indeed now showed a full moon no matter that it was night in only some worlds). To Freya, he complimented the glimmer of her silver hair by the fire's glow, saying it rivaled the starlight. Each goddess felt uniquely attended to, and each couldn't help but glow under his praise, while casting sidelong glances at her counterpart.
Watching this interplay from across the room, Yoruichi snickered softly into her cup of sake. She murmured to Scáthach, who stood nearby, "Look at those two. Like housecats curling up to the one warm spot."
Scáthach sipped her wine, eyes keen. "Jealousy can be an amusing playmaker," she replied in a low tone.
Not far away, Empress Wuying and Fairy Yuechan had taken seats at a small round table. Wuying's pride was still smarting from Yin's attempt, and she kept stealing glares at the demoness. Yuechan gently laid a hand on her Empress's arm, offering a calming presence. The fairy's tranquil aura was a balm; Wuying exhaled and nodded. "This place tests my patience," Wuying murmured to her. "But… that man, Solus… have you ever felt anything like this energy, Yuechan?"
Yuechan shook her head, her silky black hair swaying. "Never, Your Majesty. It's as if… as if even the heavens themselves bend around him." She cast a curious glance at Solus, seeing him laugh softly at something one of the goddesses said. Though Yuechan was a cultivator who had forsworn passion, she could not deny a strange tug in her soul when she looked at Solus – a whisper that perhaps enlightenment was not the only path to power; perhaps devotion could be another. She quickly lowered her gaze, focusing on the cup of snow lotus tea a spectral servant had poured her.
The boisterous laughter of Shion cut through the gentle murmur of new conversations. She was recounting to Milim (with dramatic reenactment) how she once cleaved a giant centipede demon in half to save a comrade. Ais listened in too, quiet but fascinated by tales of monsters from another world. In turn, Shion begged Ais to tell the story of her deepest dungeon dive, which Ais shyly began to do, finding the enthusiastic ogress and demon lord an unexpectedly encouraging audience.
Across the room, a lone spectral servant glided forward, bearing a tray laden with crystal goblets of ruby-red wine. It moved with unusual grace, almost a sultry sway, as it neared the couch where Solus sat flanked by Freya and Artemis. Scáthach, ever perceptive, felt the hairs on her neck rise. Something about that 'servant' felt… wrong. Its form flickered at the edges, the light bending oddly around it. A thrill of dark energy – tantalizing and dangerous – radiated from its vicinity, subtle but present.
Solus lifted his head slightly, golden eyes gleaming with sudden amusement as if he too sensed the deception. Freya was in the midst of leaning against his shoulder, attempting to draw his attention wholly to herself, when Solus gently raised a hand to pause her. Artemis, noticing his change in demeanor, followed his gaze to the approaching servant. The silver-haired goddess's brow furrowed, instincts of the hunt detecting a concealed predator.
In the span of a heartbeat, the spectral servant's shape melted away like mist. In its place stood a voluptuous woman draped in a revealing kimono-like robe of violet and black. Sessyoin Kiara had arrived, and as always, she chose to make an entrance on her own terms. The tray of wine hovered unsupported in the air as Kiara dispelled her disguise, her violet eyes alight with mischief and unholy desire.
"Ara, forgive my little trick," Kiara cooed, her voice a honeyed contralto that sent shivers of mixed pleasure and alarm through those present. She placed a hand over her ample bosom as if in apology, though the smile on her luscious lips was anything but penitent. "I simply couldn't resist slipping in quietly to observe such… interesting souls at play." Her gaze danced over Freya and Artemis perched on either side of Solus, and her smile widened knowingly.
Freya instantly bristled at the newcomer's audacity and the overt sensual aura that rolled off Kiara like an intoxicating perfume. It was rare that Freya felt upstaged in charm, but this woman was like a walking embodiment of temptation. Artemis felt an instinctive dislike; every alarm bell of her chaste nature rang out facing Kiara's overt sensuality. Several others reacted too – Unohana's calm eyes narrowed just a fraction, recognizing a dangerous aura; Yoruichi muttered "What have we here…?" under her breath, tensing; Ais simply blushed and looked away, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer adult atmosphere Kiara exuded.
Solus, however, greeted Kiara with a slow clap that broke the stunned silence. "An impressive entrance," he lauded, not at all perturbed. "Sessyoin Kiara, I presume. I've been expecting you." He flashed a daring grin. "Took you long enough to join the party."
Kiara's eyes half-lidded in delight. She glided forward, not bothering to hide the sway of her hips or the sultry appraisal in her stare. "I do apologize," she purred, "I was simply savoring the array of… delights on display." She looked around at the gathered women like a connoisseur eyeing a banquet, and more than a few felt the urge to shudder or glower in return. Kiara finally let her gaze settle on Solus. "But I see the main course is as delectable as advertised."
Artemis rose abruptly, placing herself partly between Kiara and Solus as if warding off a corrupting evil. "Mind your tongue," the moon goddess said sharply. "Who are you to speak so rudely in another's establishment?"
Kiara chuckled softly, covering a giggle with her sleeve. "How sweet, a chaste moon goddess playing guard dog." She inclined her head, mocking yet graceful. "Sessyoin Kiara, humble nun… or at least, I was one, once. To answer your question – I'm someone who goes wherever sinful pleasure and salvation in one can be found. And I can smell both clinging to our dear host." She licked her lips subtly, eyes flicking up and down Solus as if undressing him in her mind.
Freya stood as well, positioning herself on the other side of Kiara, effectively flanking the temptress. Her smile was blade-thin. "I don't know what you think you smell on him," Freya said icily, "but know that some treasures are beyond even a devotee of lust."
Kiara seemed positively thrilled to be hemmed in by the two goddesses. "Oh my," she simpered, "the Virgin and the Harlot, united in protectiveness. How delightful." Both Artemis and Freya flushed – one in anger, the other in outrage – at Kiara's brazen labels. Before either could retaliate, Solus gently rose to his feet behind Artemis, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. With his other hand, he reached out and – to everyone's surprise – lifted Kiara's chin lightly with two fingers, forcing her gaze up to meet his.
Kiara's breath caught, her confident facade flickering as Solus's golden eyes bored into hers from inches away. "You'll find, Kiara," Solus said softly, his voice dropping into something almost dangerous yet thrilling, "that here, I am the only devil who holds sway." The air between them crackled with a private intensity. Kiara's pupils dilated; for perhaps the first time in her existence, she felt an unfamiliar flutter of… submission? Her entire being, trained to ensnare and dominate through pleasure, suddenly found itself at risk of being ensnared.
Solus smiled, seeing the recognition in her face. He released her chin, turning away casually as if she were no more threat than a kitten. "Be a good guest now," he tossed over his shoulder, returning to his seat. Artemis stepped back beside him, heart pounding from the momentary confrontation. Freya let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, impressed and gratified by Solus's handling of the interloper.
Kiara stood frozen for a heartbeat longer, a blush of excitement creeping across her cheeks. Then she laughed – a light, musical sound. "Of course, my host," she acquiesced, bowing with perfect elegance. "I only live to serve… for now." Her eyes flashed with renewed reverence and obsession as she backed away to find a seat, her thoughts swirling. What a man this is… far more than man. The black hole of Solus's dominance had begun pulling Kiara into orbit as surely as it had the others.
As Kiara melted into the congregation, Freya exchanged a glance with Artemis; an unspoken accord passed between them that, whatever their rivalry, they would not allow Kiara free rein. Artemis gave a subtle nod, and Freya smirked in agreement. One alliance forged in the face of a common seductress.
The tavern settled once more after Kiara's dramatic appearance, though the air felt charged, as if a thunderstorm was on the horizon. Scarcely had everyone resettled, however, when an icy gust blew through one of the still-open portals. The lantern flames flickered blue and a thin layer of frost suddenly coated a section of the floor. Milim paused mid-story, her eyes sparkling anew. "Uh oh, I know that chilly aura…" she muttered.
From the Tempest-side doorway stepped a tall, elegant woman with snow-white hair cascading down her back. She wore a gown that seemed woven from winter itself – pale blues and silvers – and her blue eyes were as piercing and cold as a clear winter sky. Behind her trailed another woman with verdant hair and a composed, stern expression, clad in a tailored suit-like uniform that marked her as an attendant. The white-haired beauty surveyed the room with dispassion, and where her gaze swept, tendrils of frost bloomed on the wood before gently fading. It was Velzard, the White Ice Dragon – one of the True Dragons of Milim's world. Beside her, Misery, Primordial Green and loyal maid to Demon Lord Guy, maintained a respectful step behind.
Velzard's frosty entrance drew immediate reactions. Milim hopped off her seat and waved vigorously despite the chill bumps forming on her skin. "Auntie Velzard!" she exclaimed with a mix of excitement and sheepishness. Shion hastily swallowed her mouthful of food and moved slightly in front of Milim, unsure if this newcomer was friend or foe.
Velzard's blue eyes appraised Solus, who inclined his head respectfully. "True Dragon Velzard. An honor to meet you," Solus said with genuine warmth. "Your reputation precedes you as the strongest of ice and winter."
Misery silently took up position to Velzard's flank, her posture protective though her face remained a mask of calm. The green-haired primordial's sharp gaze catalogued each person quickly – lingering a second on Guy Crimson's rival Milim, then on Solus, the unknown factor.
Velzard nodded slightly at Solus's courteous greeting, but she did not smile. Frost crept along the floor a few inches around her feet, a subconscious release of her enormous magical aura. "So, you are the one who has bent space and drawn us all here," she stated. "Explain yourself." There was no anger, only regal command. In her long life Velzard had seldom met anyone she couldn't intimidate or freeze out. She intended to see what mettle this tavern-keeper had.
Before Solus could reply, Empress Wuying interjected with a soft scoff, "It seems everyone demands answers from our host this evening. Perhaps we should let him speak once, clearly, instead of repeating himself for each new arrival?" Her patience was thin, but her words held reason.
Solus chuckled and raised a placating hand. "Fair point. I have been rather busy making introductions." He turned to Velzard, meeting her chilly stare with a genial expression. "Lady Velzard, to put it succinctly: I created The Laughing Throne as a meeting ground for extraordinary beings such as yourself – to share stories, forge unlikely bonds, and perhaps enjoy a bit of harmless sport." His eyes twinkled. "No harm is meant to your realm or any other. Think of this as a… vacation from the ordinary laws of the universe."
Velzard's frown softened by a degree. She was not fully convinced, but neither did she sense deceit. "Hmph. I do not recall asking for a vacation," she murmured. But Milim's carefree laughter at Solus's explanation was oddly infectious, and the White Dragon found her wariness easing against her will.
Misery stepped forward and bowed politely to Solus. "Demon Lord Guy sends his regards," she said evenly. "He suspected an event of this magnitude would draw… notable figures. I am here as an observer on his behalf."
Solus nodded to Misery. "You're as welcome as any guest, Lady Misery." His use of her name without introduction confirmed to the room once again that nothing escaped his knowledge. Misery simply smiled a tight little smile and remained by Velzard's side, hands folded.
Scarcely had the chill of Velzard's aura begun to dissipate when yet another portal manifested – this one swirling with emerald green light and the sound of distant bells. A tall woman stepped through, draped in robes of midnight and deep emerald. A delicate crown of black iron rested atop her long, wavy hair the color of a storm-touched sea. She carried a staff of gnarled wood that glinted with faerie glamour. Every step she took exuded authority and ancient power. Morgan le Fay had arrived.
Morgan's cold blue-green eyes surveyed the tavern and its motley assortment of occupants. The air around her crackled faintly with enchantment. Unlike others who showed surprise or curiosity upon entry, Morgan's beautiful face showed primarily displeasure. She had been ripped from her kingdom – albeit a kingdom in an alternate Britain that lay on the brink – by an irresistible summons. To be confronted with a merry scene of chatter and feasting grated on her temper.
"So," Morgan said, her voice echoing slightly as if multiple harmonics overlapped, "this is the spectacle that drew me from my throne." She lifted her chin, regal and intimidating. "Who among you is responsible? Step forward and explain why I should not turn this place into an ice-bound tomb."
Ais instinctively slid into a defensive stance upon the newcomer's threat; Shion growled softly, hand on her greatsword. But Solus moved calmly forward, emerging from between Freya and Artemis to stand in clear view of Morgan.
"That would be me, Queen Morgan," he answered evenly. His tone remained friendly but gained a subtle edge of challenge. "Solus Mirthveil, at your service. And you are a guest in my home – albeit one who arrived late."
Morgan's eyes flashed at the mild chastisement. All her life – in every life – she had seized respect by force; being talked down to by a smiling stranger was novel and irksome. "You dare–" she began, magic flaring as a frigid wind swirled around her staff. The tavern's temperature plummeted a few degrees, windows frosting at the edges.
Yet before she could unleash whatever arcane judgment she had in mind, another voice cut through like a crack of thunder: "Hah! You call that cold, lady? Let me show you fire!"
From the Soul Society portal, which had remained open, burst forth a column of hellish flame. It poured into the tavern and coalesced into the form of a woman armored in black and red, a tattered standard fluttering behind her – a flag bearing a dark fleur-de-lis. Jeanne d'Arc Alter, the Dragon Witch, had entered the fray with characteristically explosive flair. Her golden irises blazed and a wicked grin split her face. Clearly, she had overheard Morgan's threat and taken it as an invitation to mayhem.
Morgan glared sidelong at the interruption. Ice crystals and the Dragon Witch's infernal embers clashed mid-air, hissing into steam. "What manner of wraith are you?" Morgan spat, affronted that someone would steal her dramatic thunder.
Jalter planted her banner spear-tip on the floor with a clang. "The one who'll burn that pretty face off if you don't watch it," she snarled, still riding high on rage. In truth, Jeanne Alter was furious at being compelled here; it dredged up memories of being summoned and used. She had no love for obeying others' calls. Seeing all these smug faces only fueled her anger. At least a fight would make her feel better.
The tension skyrocketed. Two potent witches from different worlds squared off, ice and fire crackling in the air. Unohana subtly moved in front of some of the more human guests like Ais and Shion, in case blasts started flying. Yoruichi crouched, ready to flash step at a moment's notice.
Solus stepped right between Morgan and Jeanne Alter, raising his arms mildly as if mediating a lovers' quarrel rather than a clash of potentially apocalyptic magic. "Ladies, ladies," he said with playful admonishment, "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but if you unleash a cataclysm in my tavern, I'll have no choice but to spank."
A beat of stunned silence met that remark. Yoruichi snorted aloud, unable to contain her laughter at the sheer audacity. Milim nearly spat her drink, cackling, "He said spank!" Freya's eyes went wide in amusement and a hint of… intrigue at the thought, while Artemis blushed furiously. Kiara fanned herself, clearly entertained. Even Morgan and Jeanne Alter were so taken aback that their gathering spells faltered.
Jeanne Alter recovered first, her cheeks tinged red not with embarrassment but with indignant fury. "Y-you dare speak to me that way?!" Flames whooshed around her, though less intensely than before as her concentration was shaken.
Solus turned his gaze to her, and in it was a steely authority that contrasted his jesting words. "I dare, and I will, if necessary," he said softly. Jeanne Alter felt that gaze pierce straight through her rage to the wounded pride beneath. It left her breathless for a moment. She had faced kings and gods without flinching, but something in this man's eyes made her feel like a misbehaving girl before a stern tutor – and a disturbingly alluring one at that. She grit her teeth, stepping back begrudgingly. "Tch. Fine," she spat, crossing her arms. "But I'm not putting out my flame entirely." A small wreath of fire still danced around her form, like an agitated aura.
Morgan, meanwhile, observed this exchange keenly. It told her much: Solus was no mere tavern master. He had single-handedly diffused an altercation she was about to escalate. And he had done it by sheer presence and audacity, not even overt magic. She tightened her grip on her staff, then let the conjured frost dissipate with a sigh. "I will stay my hand… for now," she conceded, tossing her hair with a haughty air to pretend the whole thing hardly mattered. She was secretly relieved no one called her bluff of freezing everyone; she sensed that might not have ended well for her.
"Splendid," Solus said brightly, as if they'd all just agreed on a game of cards. "Now that we're all present and (mostly) peaceful, let's continue the festivities." He gestured grandly, and a fresh round of spectral servants appeared with drinks tailored to the new arrivals – a goblet of finest fae wine for Morgan (which she accepted after a suspicious sniff), and a tankard brimming with what smelled like spiced blood for Jeanne Alter, who took it with a defiant huff.
Off to the side, Fairy Yuechan murmured to Wuying, "Such powerful personalities… it's a wonder this building still stands." Wuying shook her head in half-dazed agreement. Never had she seen so many apex figures from completely different realms in one place, let alone interacting under a single man's thumb.
In a quieter entrance, almost unnoticed amid the previous fireworks, a dark portal of swirling reishi opened near the ceiling. From it dropped Tier Harribel, landing in a crouch atop a sturdy ceiling beam. The tanned Arrancar rose gracefully to her full height, observing the tavern below through ocean-green eyes. She had sensed no immediate combat upon arrival – perhaps thankfully, given she saw two women who clearly were Soul Reapers among the crowd – so she refrained from drawing her blade. Instead, Harribel silently evaluated the situation.
Yoruichi's sharp senses picked up the subtle spiritual pressure. She glanced upward, spotting the lone Arrancar. "Well, well," Yoruichi called out casually, raising her sake cup in greeting, "the Hollow realms send their regards too?"
All eyes followed upward. Harribel realized concealment was futile and stepped off the beam, landing in the center of the floor with feline agility. The sudden appearance of an Arrancar – a former Espada no less – put Unohana and Yoruichi on subtle alert. Freya and Artemis simply saw another beautiful warrior joining the fray; they sensed her inhuman nature but not the specifics. Shion and Milim, unfamiliar with hollows, were merely curious why part of Harribel's face was covered by a jaw-like mask fragment.
Solus approached Harribel with calm courtesy. "Welcome, Tier Harribel," he said warmly. "Queen of Hueco Mundo, I'm pleased you came."
Harribel eyed him steadily. She was a woman of few words. "I came to ensure whatever this is would not threaten my domain," she answered bluntly. Her voice was low and collected. "Now I see… it is something else entirely." Her gaze swept the diverse crowd.
Unohana gave Harribel a gentle smile and slight bow. "You needn't worry. This man seems intent on keeping things…civil," she said, amusement in her tone at that understatement.
Harribel studied Unohana (sensing something fearsome behind that gentle facade) and Yoruichi (who smiled openly at her). No hostility was directed at her specifically, a welcome change from her experiences with Soul Reapers. Perhaps this truly was neutral ground. She turned back to Solus. "If my presence is accepted… I will stay. I'm curious," she admitted softly.
Solus responded by taking her hand – the one not resting on her zanpakuto – and bowing to lightly brush a kiss across her glove. "Your presence is a gift, Lady Harribel." His gallant gesture made Harribel's teal eyes widen almost imperceptibly. She was used to deference among her Arrancar subjects, but not this kind of courtly charm. A strange heat bloomed under her brown skin, and she glanced away, unsure how to respond.
A chorus of various conversations soon filled the tavern once more. All who were fated to be here on this Opening Night had arrived. The grand fellowship of impossible souls had been formed, however tenuous.