The Hyoudou home had long outgrown its modest roots. What began as a cozy two-story suburban house now sprawled into a sprawling estate—annexes added by Gremory magic and Sitri engineering, gardens warded by youkai illusions, and a rooftop observatory for Elysara's astral visits.
Cherry blossoms bloomed eternally in the courtyard (courtesy of Amaterasu's parting gift from the conference), and the air hummed with the faint resonance of sacred gears, fallen wings, and draconic embers. It was a sanctuary, a nexus where worlds collided not in war, but in laughter and spilled milk.
Issei Hyoudou stood at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, flipping tamagoyaki with practiced ease. At 22, he'd filled out—broader shoulders from endless spars, jaw sharper from the weight of choices, but his brown eyes still sparkled with that boyish grin, the one that had ensnared goddesses and youkai alike.
True Excalibur and Dragon Slayer hung disguised as keychains on a hook by the door, their hum a constant companion. The Phoenix Force simmered beneath his skin, a warm undercurrent, while the golden sigil from Elysara—a navel-like vortex tattooed over his heart—pulsed gently, linking him to realms beyond.
"Mama! Look— I drew a dragon-fox!" A high-pitched squeal pierced the morning haze. Little Lirien Volkihar—Serana's daughter, four years old with raven hair streaked silver, tiny fangs peeking from her smile, and eyes like frozen emeralds—toddled in, clutching a crayon masterpiece.
Bat-like wings (half-hidden by illusion charm) fluttered excitedly, and her pale skin shimmered with vampiric dew. Serana followed, elegant in a flowing black gown that accentuated her eternal allure, one hand on her daughter's head, the other absently tracing the faint scar from her ascension.
Serana Volkihar, once the reluctant vampire daughter of Skyrim's frozen nights, now the unchallenged Goddess of All Vampires in her AU(Alternate Universe) realm—and Issei's wife by blood and bond.
She'd been brought back four years ago, in a tearful portal summoning that had shattered his then-harem's composure. The reveal—her pregnancy, the interdimensional jaunt—had been a storm: shock freezing faces, anger flaring (Rias's demonic aura had cracked teacups; Raynare's spears had nearly impaled the couch), then relief washing over like dawn after eclipse.
"Another sister for us," Asia had whispered, hugging Serana tight. Now, Lirien was the family's darling—sucking blood-popsicles for breakfast, batting at Koneko's tail during playtime, and already showing signs of draconic strength (she'd once lifted Mittelt's coffee table with one hand).
Serana scooped Lirien up, kissing her forehead. "Beautiful, my star. Show Papa." Her voice was a velvet murmur, laced with that archaic Skyrim lilt—warmed now by four years of sunlight and love.
She met Issei's eyes over the child's head, a private smile curving her lips. The pregnancy reveal had been chaos, but the birth—Lirien emerging under a blood moon, tiny wings unfurling—had sealed her place.
Serana had traded Volkihar's shadows for Kuoh's warmth, her goddess duties handled by proxies, her heart tethered to the dragon who had claimed her in a keep of ice and fire.
Issei ruffled Lirien's hair, earning a giggle and a sticky hug. "Masterpiece, kiddo. Frame it next to your brother's doodles."
From the hallway came thundering feet—four-year-old Ryu Hyoudou, Yasaka's son and Issei's firstborn from the fox empress. Wild golden hair like his mother's, draconic slits in amber eyes, and nine tiny tails that tripped him every third step.
He barreled in, clutching a wooden sword (Xenovia's "training gift"), tails wagging furiously. "Papa! Watch— I slayed the bad wolf!" He swung wildly, toppling a stool.
Yasaka swept in behind him, laughter like temple bells, her nine tails a golden cascade. The youkai queen had relocated fully two years ago, appointing a trusted nine-tailed elder as faction head—her "kind," a shadow-self woven from youki, handling Kyoto's politics while she embraced domestic divinity.
Her figure had softened with motherhood, curves even more lush, the subtle swell from Ryu's birth long faded but her glow eternal. "Ryu, careful—Papa's cooking."
She kissed Issei's cheek, tails coiling his waist possessively. The birth had been a spectacle: Ryu emerging amid foxfire auroras, his first cry summoning illusions of dragon-fox hybrids.
Yasaka's integration had been seamless—teaching the harem youkai arts, her nights with Issei a blaze of passion that once triggered a minor earthquake (blamed on "ley-line flux").
The kitchen filled: girlfriends filtering in, drawn by the chaos. Rias, in a silk robe, scooped Ryu up for a cuddle, her crimson hair tousled from sleep.
"My little warrior—did you defeat Fenrir again?" Akeno followed, violet kimono slipping off one shoulder, pouring tea with a teasing smile.
Koneko padded in silently, neko ears twitching, claiming a stool and stealing a tamagoyaki slice—her quiet affection for the children a soft counter to her tsundere bite.
Irina and Xenovia arrived arm-in-arm, demonic auras mingling, Irina cooing over Lirien while Xenovia sparred mock-sword with Ryu.
Raynare lounged against the counter, smirking as she fed Mittelt a bite from Issei's pan; Kalawarner ruffled the kids' hair, her winds gently tousling without mess.
Sona entered last, glasses on, tablet in hand—ever the strategist, but her smile softened at the sight, joining Yasaka in corralling the little ones.
Asia bustled in, the eternal sister, apron tied, helping plate breakfast. "Everyone, sit! Big brother made extra for the kids." Her blonde braid swung as she hugged Lirien and Ryu, their "Auntie Asia" who healed scraped knees and told bedtime stories of saintly dragons. The Boosted Gear on her wrist was a family heirloom now, her boosts a game for the children's play-fights.
Rossweisse slipped in quietly—Rias's Knight, reincarnated three years ago after Odin's abandonment at the conference. The Valkyrie, once flat-chested and frugal, now bloomed in devilish grace: silver hair pinned with a tiara, blue dress modest but hugging newfound curves (a "perk" of reincarnation, she'd grumbled).

Abandoned mid-battle ("Useless girl, too busy with coupons!" Odin had roared), she'd been scooped up by Rias's Pawn piece—Knight for her analytical mind and rune magic. Issei had wooed her slowly: shared 100-yen shop hauls, rune-lesson "dates" that ended in blushes and kisses.
Now, she was his—tenth in the harem, her tsundere affections hidden behind stern lectures and stolen nights where her runes etched love-spells on his skin.
Breakfast was pandemonium: kids chattering (Ryu boasting of "slaying wolves like Papa," Lirien lisping about "blood-pops and stars"), girlfriends teasing (Raynare: "Our dragon's got a nursery now—next stop, divine daycare?"), laughter echoing. Issei's parents—Gorou and Sayuri—joined from the main house, fully in the know since the post-conference reveal four years back.
Gorou, ever the everyman, had taken it with a beer: "Son, as long as you're happy and not ending the world weekly…" Miki had cried, then hugged everyone, declaring "Family's family—wings or tails, all welcome."
The reveal had been a family dinner gone epic: Issei spilling the supernatural beans over sukiyaki, parents staring as wings unfurled and gears glowed.
Shock, then hugs—Miki adopting the harem as "daughters," Gorou bonding with Lucifer over fishing trips (Luke's "veiled" form a "tall foreigner"). Now, they doted on the grandkids, Gorou teaching Ryu carpentry, Miki spoiling Lirien with storybooks.
As plates cleared, Issei leaned back, arm around Rias, watching the tableau. Four years—a lifetime in devil terms. The conference had sealed peace: Khaos Brigade splintered, Cao Cao's remnants hunted down (Vali claiming his father's head in a Divine Dividing storm, breaking Trihexa's seal before it could snap— the beast slumbering eternal, God's old chains unyielding).
Heaven stabilized under Elysara, her 2% whims mending souls and stars; Hell thrived under Lucifer and Lilith, the Four Satans advisory geniuses in a realm of reformed sin.
His family: harem complete, children thriving. Serana's return had been the storm—portal-ripped from Skyrim, belly swelling with Lirien.
The reveal: shock (Rias's aura cracking china), anger (Akeno's lightning singeing curtains, Raynare's spears pinning shadows), then relief (Asia's tears, Koneko's quiet hug).
"Another little one," Rias had whispered, hand on Serana's swell. Lirien's birth under a blood eclipse had sealed it—vampiric goddess-daughter, fanged and winged, adored.
Yasaka's relocation followed: boy Ryu born amid foxfire, tails and draconic roars. She abdicated to a youki-shadow, joining the household—her nights with Issei earthquakes of passion (warded now, no more "ley-line excuses").
Rossweisse's addition: post-conference, abandoned by Odin ("Flat and frugal!"), Rias reincarnating her as Knight. Issei's courtship—budget dates, rune-spells turning to love-charms—culminated in a blushing confession under auroras. Now, tenth flame, her runes warding the home.
Elysara visited often—her child, a genderless nebula-being named Astra, three years old, bending toys into pocket universes. Due soon after the conference, born in heavenly light—Astra, sibling to all, Elysara's visits a cascade of stars and cuddles.
Vali's patricide: Rizevim dead by Divine Dividing, Trihexa sealed forever—peace's unsung hero.
Life was this: chaos and joy. Issei pulled Lirien onto his lap, Ryu clambering after. "Papa story!" they chorused.
He grinned, beginning: "Once, there was a dragon with a heart big as the sun…"
Girlfriends gathered, Asia beaming, parents watching from the door. Happily ever after—not ending, but eternal.