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"You're the disturbance in the natural order," Arcueid stated, stopping before Viyrim. "The one existing outside proper reality constraints."
Viyrim leaned back in his chair, unfazed by her directness. "Guilty as charged. Though 'disturbance' seems a bit dramatic for someone just enjoying lunch, don't you think?"
"Your 'lunch' is warping the fabric of reality," Arcueid countered, her crimson eyes narrowing. "I can sense the fluctuations from across the city."
"A minor side effect," Viyrim waved dismissively. "Reality is surprisingly malleable once you stop treating its rules as absolutes."
Gilgamesh watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, sipping her wine with deliberate slowness. "The vampire princess finally deigns to join our little gathering. How unexpected."
Arcueid's gaze flicked briefly to the King of Heroes. "I'm surprised to find you here, Gilgamesh. Socializing with lesser beings isn't typically your style."
"Lesser beings?" Gilgamesh's eyes flashed dangerously. "Careful, True Ancestor. Even your vaunted bloodline pales in comparison to my divinity."
"Ladies," Viyrim interrupted, clapping his hands together with enough force to create a small sonic boom that rattled the café's windows. "Such delightful tension! But let's channel it into more productive activities, shall we? Like sampling Vados's latest creation."
As if on cue, Vados appeared with an elegant silver tray bearing a dish that seemed to glow with an ethereal light. "For our lunar visitor: 'Crimson Moon Soufflé' – a delicate balance of blood essences and celestial energies, designed to evoke the primal power of your ancestor without triggering bloodlust."
Arcueid's expression shifted from confrontational to surprised curiosity. "You've synthesized Type-Moon energy?"
"A reasonable facsimile," Vados explained. "Lord Viyrim consumed several lunar deities in Universe 9, which provided helpful reference points."
"Consumed?" Arcueid repeated, a new wariness entering her stance.
"Metaphorically speaking," Viyrim assured her with a smile that was anything but reassuring. "Mostly."
Despite her evident caution, Arcueid's nostrils flared slightly as the aroma from the dish reached her. Something primal flickered in her crimson eyes – a hunger that transcended mere appetite.
"Perhaps a taste before you decide whether to destroy my café?" Viyrim suggested, gesturing to the empty chair on his left, opposite from Gilgamesh. "I find culinary experiences greatly improve diplomatic relations."
Arcueid hesitated, clearly weighing her options. Then, to the surprise of many present, she gracefully took the offered seat. "A taste," she agreed. "And then we discuss your interference in this reality's proper flow."
"Such tedious concerns," Viyrim sighed dramatically. "But if it makes you happy, we can exchange cosmic small talk after dessert."
As Arcueid sampled the dish, her eyes widened slightly – the only concession to surprise her composure would allow. "This is... not what I expected."
"Disappointing?" Viyrim inquired, leaning closer with evident interest.
"Quite the contrary," she admitted. "It captures essence without corruption. A rare achievement."
Viyrim beamed at her, then shot a triumphant look at Gilgamesh. "See? The moon princess appreciates culinary artistry."
"The moon princess has questionable taste," Gilgamesh retorted, though there was more playfulness than venom in her tone.
Arcueid raised an elegant eyebrow. "Says the collector of every gaudy trinket across history."
Unexpectedly, Gilgamesh laughed – a genuine sound that caused several patrons to look up in surprise. "Oh, I might enjoy having you around, vampire. You're more entertaining than most of these mongrels."
From her position further down the table, Artoria observed the exchange with quiet interest. "The True Ancestor and the King of Heroes, finding common ground. This café truly defies all natural order."
"That's rather the point," Viyrim replied cheerfully. "Natural order is so restrictive. I prefer... creative chaos."
As the unlikely trio continued their banter, Rin leaned closer to Archer. "Is it my imagination, or is he collecting powerful women around himself?"
"Not your imagination," Archer confirmed quietly. "Though whether by design or cosmic coincidence remains unclear."
Shirou approached their table, bringing fresh tea. "It's definitely getting to be a pattern," he added, having overheard them. "Gilgamesh hasn't left his side for days. Saber comes in 'coincidentally' whenever I'm working. And now Arcueid."
"Don't forget Rider," Rin noted, gesturing toward the entrance where the Gorgon Servant had just arrived, her elegant movements drawing appreciative glances from several patrons.
"My, my," Archer murmured. "The gang's all here."
Rider approached the central table with measured steps, acknowledging Arcueid with a slight nod before addressing Viyrim. "The boundary field around your café has expanded again. It now encompasses three additional blocks."
"Has it?" Viyrim looked genuinely surprised. "Vados, are you redecorating without telling me?"
"Not intentionally, my lord," Vados replied. "However, your contentment appears to be having... expansive effects on local reality."
"How fascinating," Viyrim mused. "My good mood is contagious to the environment itself." He grinned at the assembled women. "I should be in good moods more often, don't you think?"
The sudden tension that rippled through the café had nothing to do with hostility and everything to do with a different kind of energy entirely. Even Kirei, normally impassive, raised an eyebrow from his corner booth.
"Lord Viyrim," Vados interjected smoothly, "perhaps we should demonstrate proper hospitality to our newest arrival? I've prepared 'Petrified Ambrosia' for Rider – a delicacy designed to honor her divine origins while acknowledging her current form."
The moment passed as Rider accepted the offered dish, though the subtle undercurrents remained. Shirou exchanged a meaningful glance with Archer, who shook his head slightly in either warning or resignation.
"So," Arcueid said, returning to her earlier concern. "About your impact on our reality—"
"Boring topic," Viyrim interrupted. "Let's discuss something more interesting, like why beings of tremendous power in this reality spend so much time fighting over trinkets instead of enjoying the pleasures existence offers."
"The Holy Grail is hardly a trinket," Artoria objected from her position.
"Everything is relative," Viyrim replied with a lazy smile. "I've held creation itself in my palm. Trust me, your cup, while certainly pretty, is relatively minor in the cosmic hierarchy of impressive objects."
Before Artoria could respond, the café door opened again, admitting a blast of cold air and a woman with long purple hair and a stern expression. Scáthach, Immortal Witch of the Shadowlands, surveyed the gathered company with ancient eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of countless heroes.
"Now this is getting interesting," Viyrim murmured, straightening in his seat. "The immortal witch herself, joining our little soirée."
"I sensed a disturbance in the boundaries between realms," Scáthach announced without preamble, her gaze fixed on Viyrim. "You are not of this world."
"We've established that," Gilgamesh said dryly. "The question is whether you're joining us for lunch or making tedious threats like everyone else did initially."
Scáthach's expression remained impassive, though her eyes narrowed slightly at Gilgamesh's tone. "I come seeking understanding, not conflict. Though I am prepared for either."
"Splendid!" Viyrim clapped his hands together. "Another divine woman for our collection. Vados, we're going to need another chair at the main table."
"Of course, my lord," Vados replied, materializing an ornate seat with a gesture. "For the Witch of Dun Scaith, I've prepared 'Warrior's Eternal Reward' – a dish that honors the endless battle of immortality while offering momentary transcendence from its burden."
As Scáthach cautiously took her place at the expanding table of powerful entities, Rin turned to Shirou with wide eyes. "This is getting out of hand," she whispered. "Half the most dangerous beings in our reality are now having lunch together."
"At least they're not fighting," Shirou pointed out optimistically.
"Yet," Archer added under his breath.
---
## Chapter 9: Accidental Intimacies
The café had closed for the night—or at least, Viyrim had declared himself temporarily satisfied and the establishment had entered a dormant phase, existing in a dimensional pocket just adjacent to normal reality. Most patrons had departed, returning to their respective roles in the ongoing Holy Grail War, their ancient vendettas temporarily suspended by the unspoken neutrality of Destruction's Table.
Viyrim lounged in his private chambers adjacent to the main dining area, an impossible space that combined elements of a luxury penthouse with cosmic observation deck. Through one window, he could watch the slow dance of galaxies in a distant universe; through another, the mundane streets of Fuyuki.
"Vados," he called lazily, "today was productive, don't you think?"
His attendant materialized beside him, ever-efficient. "Indeed, my lord. Your collection of powerful entities grows impressively."
"Collection?" Viyrim raised an eyebrow above his blindfold. "An odd choice of words. I'm not collecting them. They simply appreciate fine dining."
"Of course, my lord," Vados agreed with a small smile that suggested she knew better. "It's surely coincidental that every female divine or semi-divine entity in this reality has now dined at your table and shown inclination to return."
Viyrim waved dismissively. "Cosmic curiosity. I'm a novelty."
"You are certainly unique," Vados acknowledged. "Though perhaps not in the way you imagine."
Before Viyrim could question this cryptic statement, a soft knock came at his chamber door—a surprise, as few knew of this private space's existence.
"Enter," he called, curiosity piqued.
The door opened to reveal Gilgamesh, no longer in her armor but dressed in elegant casual attire that somehow managed to be both regal and relaxed. Her golden hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, and she carried what appeared to be an ancient bottle of wine.
"King of Heroes," Viyrim greeted her, sitting up slightly. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
"I bring tribute," she announced, holding up the bottle. "From my personal collection. A vintage even older than our earlier sampling."
Viyrim gestured to a nearby table. "Vados, glasses for our royal guest."
"At once, my lord." Vados materialized two crystal goblets that seemed to contain galaxies in their depths, then bowed slightly. "Will there be anything else required?"
"That will be all for now," Viyrim replied, a slight questioning note in his voice as he sensed his attendant's amusement.
When Vados had departed, Gilgamesh approached with measured steps, studying the impossible room with appreciative eyes. "Your private domain is... acceptable," she assessed, which from her was high praise indeed.
"I'm honored by your approval," Viyrim replied with a touch of irony. "Though I admit curiosity about this after-hours visit."
Gilgamesh poured the ancient wine with practiced grace. "Gods should commune with gods," she said simply. "Away from the gaze of lesser beings."
"Is that what we're doing? Communing?" Viyrim accepted the offered glass, inhaling the bouquet with genuine appreciation.
"Perhaps." Gilgamesh took the seat opposite him, her crimson eyes studying him with uncharacteristic openness. "You intrigue me, God of Destruction. You possess power that rivals or exceeds my own, yet you channel it into... frivolity."
"Most would call it relaxation," Viyrim corrected, sipping the wine. "Mmm. This is exceptional, by the way. My earlier criticism was perhaps hasty."
A smile touched Gilgamesh's lips. "I thought you might appreciate it more in private, away from your need to maintain indifference before an audience."
"Perceptive," Viyrim acknowledged. "Though the same could be said of you, couldn't it? The imperious King of Heroes, softening in private quarters."
"I soften for no one," Gilgamesh stated firmly, though her posture remained relaxed. "I merely... adapt to the company."
"A diplomatic answer." Viyrim leaned forward slightly. "Now, tell me the real reason for this visit. Surely not just to share wine, magnificent though it is."
Gilgamesh studied him for a long moment. "Immortality becomes tedious," she said finally. "Existence stretches endlessly, and novelty becomes increasingly rare. You..." she gestured to him with her glass, "are novel."
"As are you," Viyrim admitted. "In all my travels across countless realities, I've never encountered anyone quite like you, Gilgamesh."
"Of course not," she replied with characteristic arrogance, though tempered with humor. "I am singular."
"As am I," Viyrim countered. "Perhaps that's why we find each other's company... stimulating."
The word hung in the air between them, charged with unspoken implications. Gilgamesh's eyes glittered in the starlight streaming through the cosmic window.
"Indeed," she murmured, moving to refill their glasses.
As she leaned forward, the cosmic window suddenly flared with the birth of a new star, temporarily flooding the room with brilliant light. Gilgamesh startled, the wine bottle tilting precariously. Viyrim reached out instinctively to stabilize it, his hand closing over hers.
The contact sent a visible ripple through the fabric of the room itself—divine energy meeting divine energy in unexpected intimacy. For a heartbeat, they remained frozen, both seemingly surprised by the intensity of the simple touch.
"Well," Gilgamesh said softly, making no move to withdraw her hand. "That was... unexpected."
"Cosmic resonance," Viyrim explained, though he too seemed affected. "Divine energies sometimes... harmonize."
"Is that what we're calling it?" A smile played at the corners of her lips.
The moment might have developed further had the door not suddenly burst open, admitting Artoria in a state of unusual agitation.
"Viyrim, I must speak with you about—" She stopped abruptly, taking in the scene before her. "Oh. I see I'm interrupting."
Gilgamesh withdrew her hand slowly, turning to face the King of Knights with a smile that was equal parts triumph and challenge. "Indeed you are, Saber. Divine matters were being discussed."
"Among other things, apparently," Artoria observed dryly.
Viyrim, for perhaps the first time since his arrival in this reality, appeared slightly flustered. "King of Knights, what brings you to my private chambers at this hour?"
Artoria's gaze lingered on Gilgamesh for a moment longer before shifting to Viyrim. "I sensed a disturbance in the café's boundary field. It seemed to be... expanding again."
"Ah," Viyrim nodded, recovering his composure. "Yes, Vados mentioned something about that. A side effect of my contentment, apparently."
"Your contentment," Artoria repeated, her gaze flicking between him and Gilgamesh.
"Among other emotions," Gilgamesh added with deliberate provocation, sipping her wine.
Artoria's expression tightened. "I see. And does your... contentment... typically disrupt the spiritual geography of entire cities?"
"Only when it's particularly intense," Viyrim replied with a smile that almost succeeded in being innocent. "Would you care to join us for a glass, King of Knights? This vintage predates your legends by several millennia."
A complex series of emotions crossed Artoria's face—reluctance, jealousy, curiosity, and finally, a grudging acceptance. "Perhaps one glass. To discuss the boundary issue."
"Of course," Gilgamesh agreed with exaggerated graciousness. "Purely diplomatic concerns."
As Artoria took the seat Viyrim materialized beside him—notably closer than Gilgamesh's position—the dynamics in the room shifted palpably. What had been an intimate tête-à-tête transformed into something more complex but no less charged.
"To unlikely alliances," Viyrim proposed, raising his glass in toast.
"Temporary truces," Artoria amended, accepting the goblet he offered.
"Divine convergence," Gilgamesh countered, her eyes never leaving Viyrim's face.
Outside the private chamber, Vados paused in her nocturnal duties, sensing the energies swirling within. "How interesting," she murmured to herself. "Lord Viyrim appears to be collecting more than culinary experiences after all."
The night progressed with increasing complexity as, one by one, more visitors found reasons to seek out the God of Destruction in his private domain. Rider arrived with questions about spatial distortions affecting her Master's dreams. Arcueid appeared, claiming to be monitoring the boundary field for stability. Even Scáthach materialized, ostensibly to discuss immortality's burdens with the only other eternal being she'd encountered who might understand.
By midnight, Viyrim's private chambers had transformed into an unlikely gathering of the most powerful female entities in the Nasuverse—all maintaining the pretense of diplomatic or intellectual interest while jockeying for positions closer to their host.
"This is becoming ridiculous," Artoria muttered to Rider as they stood by the cosmic window, watching Viyrim explain some metaphysical concept to an attentive Arcueid.
"Indeed," Rider agreed, adjusting her glasses. "We all sensed the energy spike from his chambers. None of us are admitting the real reason we came running."
"Which is?" Artoria challenged.
Rider's lips curved in a rare smile. "Divine beings are drawn to power that matches or exceeds their own. It's cosmic instinct, older than rational thought."
Across the room, Viyrim had somehow ended up seated on a luxurious divan with Gilgamesh on one side and Scáthach on the other, both seemingly engaged in casual conversation while inching imperceptibly closer.
"I've never seen Gilgamesh tolerate anyone in her personal space like that," Artoria observed with a frown.
"Nor Scáthach," Rider noted. "The immortal witch who has rejected heroes for millennia, suddenly finding reasons to touch a stranger's arm while making philosophical points."
As if to illustrate this observation, Scáthach's hand came to rest on Viyrim's shoulder as she leaned in to make some point about the nature of eternity.
"This is absurd," Artoria declared, straightening her posture. "We are ancient, powerful beings with responsibilities and dignities. Not... not..."
"Lovesick schoolgirls?" Rider suggested with uncharacteristic humor.
"Precisely." Artoria set down her glass with decisive force. "I'm leaving. This is beneath my station as King."
"Of course," Rider agreed. "I'll accompany you out."
Neither of them moved.
Across the room, Viyrim caught their gaze and smiled—a genuine expression of pleasure at their presence that somehow transcended his usual casual arrogance. Both women felt something shift in the cosmic atmosphere, a subtle realignment that made leaving suddenly seem like the less appealing option.
"Perhaps a few more minutes," Artoria conceded reluctantly. "To ensure the boundary field stabilizes."
"Prudent," Rider agreed. "Very responsible of you as King."
They exchanged a glance of perfect understanding—rivals acknowledging a shared predicament. Then, by unspoken mutual consent, they moved toward the divan where Viyrim held court among goddesses and immortals.
Outside the chamber, Vados listened to the harmonizing energies with growing amusement. "Well, well," she murmured. "It seems Lord Viyrim's vacation is becoming far more interesting than either of us anticipated. I wonder if he's realized yet what's actually happening."
Based on the sudden burst of flustered divine energy that pulsed through the door when Arcueid apparently tripped and landed directly in Viyrim's lap, the answer was probably not.
---
## Chapter 10: Cosmic Complications
Dawn found Viyrim alone in his chambers once more, contemplating the night's unexpected developments with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. The various divine and semi-divine visitors had eventually departed, each maintaining the pretense that their visit had been purely diplomatic or intellectual in nature.
"Vados," he called, sensing his attendant's presence nearby.
She materialized instantly, her expression professionally neutral despite the knowing glint in her eyes. "Yes, my lord?"
"Last night was... unusual," Viyrim stated, choosing his words carefully.
"Indeed, my lord. Quite the gathering of powerful entities."
"Yes, but..." he frowned slightly. "There was something else happening. Something I can't quite identify."
Vados raised an elegant eyebrow. "Something beyond the obvious, you mean?"
"What's obvious?" Viyrim asked, genuinely puzzled.
A small smile touched Vados's lips. "Perhaps it would be best for you to discover that for yourself, my lord. Some realizations are more meaningful when reached independently."
Viyrim scowled. "You're being cryptic again. I dislike cryptic."
"My apologies," Vados replied, not sounding particularly apologetic. "Shall I prepare the café for today's operations? Young Shirou will arrive soon for his morning cooking session."
"Yes, fine," Viyrim waved dismissively. "And have him prepare something especially impressive today. I feel the need for exceptional cuisine after last night's... whatever that was."
"Of course, my lord." Vados bowed slightly and departed, leaving Viyrim to his thoughts.
He rose from his lounging position and moved to the cosmic window, watching as galaxies spiraled in their eternal dance. For a being who had witnessed the birth and death of universes, who had conquered and destroyed across countless realities, these new sensations were disconcertingly novel.
"Interesting," he murmured to himself. "Very interesting indeed."
---
The café materialized that morning in a quiet corner of Fuyuki's central park, nestled between ancient trees that seemed to bend slightly away from the impossible structure, as if acknowledging its otherworldly nature. The sign swung gently in a breeze that affected nothing else, occasionally shifting its cryptic message to entice passersby.
Inside, Shirou worked diligently in the kitchen, preparing specialized dishes under Vados's watchful guidance. His skills had improved dramatically in the weeks since he'd first stumbled upon the café, incorporating techniques that blended magecraft with culinary artistry in ways no human chef had previously conceived.
"You seem distracted today," Vados observed as she inspected his latest creation.
"Saber was acting strangely this morning," Shirou admitted, focusing on the precise arrangement of mana-infused garnishes. "She kept asking casual questions about Viyrim—his habits, preferences, history. Not like her at all."
"How fascinating," Vados replied, her tone suggesting this was entirely expected.
"And when I mentioned I was coming to work early, she suddenly decided she needed a morning walk. Through the park. Where the café just happens to be today."
Vados nodded sagely. "A remarkable coincidence."
Shirou gave her a suspicious look. "You know something about this, don't you?"
"I know many things," Vados answered enigmatically. "Including that you should reduce the mana concentration in that sauce before it destabilizes."
Shirou hastily adjusted his technique, momentarily distracted from his questions. As he worked, the café door opened, admitting the first patrons of the day—a sight so unexpected that he nearly dropped his utensils.
Gilgamesh and Artoria entered together, not exactly friendly but maintaining a civil distance that would have been unthinkable weeks earlier. They were engaged in what appeared to be actual conversation rather than their usual hostile exchanges.
"—still maintain that Excalibur's design prioritizes form over function," Gilgamesh was saying as they entered.
"And I maintain that one who collects weapons rather than mastering them has little ground for critique," Artoria replied, though without her usual edge.
They paused upon noticing Shirou's stunned expression from the kitchen doorway.
"What?" Gilgamesh demanded imperiously.
"Nothing," Shirou replied quickly. "Just... surprised to see you both. Together. Not trying to kill each other."
"We have reached a temporary understanding," Artoria explained with careful dignity. "Regarding certain... shared interests."
"Shared interests," Shirou repeated slowly, his gaze moving between them. "Right."
Before the conversation could continue, the café door opened again, admitting Arcueid and Rider, also together despite having no previous connection. They too seemed engaged in surprisingly amicable discussion.
"—cannot believe you've never tried proper blood wine," Arcueid was saying. "The Brunestud vintage is incomparable."
"My experiences with blood have been less... recreational," Rider replied dryly. "Though I admit curiosity about your moon-based metabolism."
They joined the first pair at the central table, exchanging cautious greetings that, while not warm, lacked the tension that would normally exist between such powerful and naturally antagonistic entities.
"Is Viyrim not here yet?" Arcueid inquired, glancing around with poorly concealed interest.
"The lord of the café typically emerges when the mood strikes him," Gilgamesh informed her with the slightly superior air of one sharing insider knowledge.
"Which means when he finishes his morning nap," Artoria added with surprising familiarity.
Shirou's eyebrows rose higher with each exchange. He retreated to the kitchen, finding Vados calmly preparing elegant table settings as if there was nothing unusual about the gathering.
"Okay, what's happening?" he demanded in a hushed voice. "They're all acting strange. Like they're..."
"Yes?" Vados prompted when he trailed off.
"Like they're competing for something. Or someone." His eyes widened as realization dawned. "No. You can't be serious."
Vados merely smiled. "The cosmos works in mysterious ways, young chef."
Before Shirou could respond, the inner door to Viyrim's private chambers opened, and the God of Destruction himself emerged, stretching languidly. He had dispensed with his usual elaborate robes in favor of simpler attire that nonetheless emanated divine energy—a casual display of power that required no ornamentation.
"Good morning, my faithful chef," he called to Shirou before noticing the gathered women at the central table. "Oh. We have early visitors. How... surprising."
Despite his words, he didn't actually look surprised—more intrigued and perhaps slightly pleased. He approached the table with his usual confidence, though Shirou thought he detected a new awareness in his movements, a consciousness of being observed and appreciated.
"Ladies," Viyrim greeted them, dropping into his seat at the head of the table. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your collective company at this early hour?"
"Coincidence," Artoria stated firmly.
"Boredom," Gilgamesh claimed dismissively.
"Monitoring the boundary field," Arcueid offered.
"Culinary curiosity," Rider concluded.
Viyrim's smile suggested he believed none of these explanations but found them entertaining nonetheless. "Well, whatever your reasons, you're just in time for breakfast. Shirou has been experimenting with mana-infused pastries that I think you'll find quite... stimulating."
The word choice sent a subtle ripple of energy through the café, causing the lights to flicker momentarily. None of the women commented on it directly, though each shifted almost imperceptibly in their seats.
"I accept your offering," Gilgamesh declared, as if granting a tremendous favor.
"How gracious of you," Viyrim replied with gentle mockery.
As Shirou and Vados served the morning's creations, the dynamic at the table evolved in fascinating ways. What began as cautious civility between natural rivals gradually transformed into something more complex—a multilayered interaction where each participant sought to display their unique qualities while maintaining dignified restraint.
Gilgamesh regaled the table with carefully selected tales of her ancient kingdom, emphasizing her divine heritage and unparalleled achievements. Artoria spoke of chivalry and honor, her natural nobility shining through even mundane conversations. Arcueid casually demonstrated her primal power by transforming a napkin into a crystalline sculpture with a mere thought, while Rider displayed her grace through subtle, perfectly controlled movements that drew the eye without seeming to try.
Throughout it all, Viyrim observed with growing awareness, his initial confusion giving way to understanding and—more surprisingly—appreciation. For a being accustomed to cosmic adoration based solely on fear and power, this new form of attention was novel indeed.
"They're courting him," Shirou murmured incredulously to Vados as they worked in the kitchen. "Actual divine beings, Heroic Spirits, and supernatural entities... competing for his attention like... like..."
"Like beings drawn to power that matches their own," Vados completed for him. "It's a tale as old as existence itself, young chef. Even gods seek companionship with those who can truly understand their nature."
"But all of them? At once?" Shirou shook his head in disbelief.
"Lord Viyrim has always inspired extreme reactions," Vados replied with a small smile. "Usually terror and submission. This is a refreshing change, don't you think?"
Before Shirou could answer, a commotion from the main café drew their attention. The door had opened again, admitting Scáthach, who paused upon seeing the gathering already in progress.
"Well," she observed dryly, "this is unexpected."
"Is it?" Gilgamesh challenged, crimson eyes narrowing. "You seem dressed rather formally for a casual morning visit."
Indeed, the immortal witch had exchanged her usual battle attire for something more elegant, though no less striking. She acknowledged the observation with a slight inclination of her head.
"One should dress appropriately when visiting establishments of quality," she replied smoothly. "I wasn't aware that required explanation, King of Heroes."
As Scáthach took her place at the table—notably choosing the seat closest to Viyrim's right hand—the energy in the café shifted again, the silent competition intensifying. Viyrim himself seemed increasingly aware of the undercurrents, his expression cycling between confusion, amusement, and something that might almost be called bashfulness—an utterly foreign concept for a God of Destruction.
The tense atmosphere was suddenly broken by the café door bursting open with dramatic force. All heads turned to see the imposing figure of Saber Alter, darkness swirling around her like a living shroud.
"Why," she demanded without preamble, "was I not informed of this gathering?"
A collective moment of stunned silence followed this unexpected entry. Then Viyrim began to laugh—a genuine sound of delight that caused the café's reality to ripple slightly around them.
"Amazing," he declared, wiping an imaginary tear from beneath his blindfold. "Absolutely amazing. Vados, we need another chair. The corrupted king wishes to join our little breakfast party."
"Of course, my lord," Vados replied, materializing an appropriate seat with a gesture. "I've prepared 'Darkness-Infused Croissants' that should appeal to her altered palate."
As Alter took her place—choosing a position directly opposite Artoria in what seemed a deliberate challenge—Viyrim surveyed the gathered company with growing amusement and what might almost be wonder.
"If someone had told me," he mused aloud, "that my culinary vacation would result in breakfast with six of the most powerful and fascinating women across multiple reality clusters, I would have called them delusional." He spread his hands expansively. "Yet here we are."
"Indeed," Gilgamesh agreed, her gaze fixed on him with uncharacteristic intensity. "Here we are."
"The question," Artoria added, "is where we go from here."
Viyrim's smile widened, revealing perfect teeth that somehow hinted at cosmic power even in their mundane function. "Forward, of course. Always forward. Though perhaps with more interesting company than I initially anticipated."
Outside the café, reality continued to bend subtly around the establishment, the boundary field expanding to encompass more of Fuyuki with each passing hour. Within those boundaries, a new pattern was forming—one that even a God of Destruction couldn't have predicted when he first arrived seeking merely lunch and diversion.
The Holy Grail War continued in theory, but its participants increasingly found reasons to visit Destruction's Table rather than pursue their designated conflicts. The cosmic café had become more than a neutral ground—it was becoming the center of a new reality, shaped by the whims and connections of its divine proprietor.
And Viyrim, who had consumed worlds and ended civilizations without a second thought, found himself increasingly invested in this strange new experiment in cosmic gastronomy and unexpected companionship.
"Vados," he called as the morning's gathering evolved into animated conversation and subtle competition, "I believe this reality cluster might be worth preserving after all."
"How magnanimous of you, my lord," his attendant replied with perfect seriousness, though her eyes sparkled with knowing amusement. "I'm sure the inhabitants will "How magnanimous of you, my lord," his attendant replied with perfect seriousness, though her eyes sparkled with knowing amusement. "I'm sure the inhabitants will be thrilled to learn their reality has earned your stamp of approval."
"Don't be cheeky, Vados," Viyrim warned, though without any real heat. "I can still change my mind if the cuisine quality drops."
"Of course, my lord. Heaven forbid you make decisions based on anything but your stomach."
Viyrim narrowed his eyes behind his blindfold, sensing the subtext in her words. Before he could respond, however, a new disturbance rippled through the café's atmosphere—a pressure wave of divine energy approaching from outside.
The door burst open with enough force to bend reality slightly at its hinges. Standing in the entrance was a woman of breathtaking beauty, her golden hair shimmering with sunlight that seemed to emanate from within rather than reflect from without. Her eyes blazed with divine fire, and her very presence caused the air to heat noticeably.
"Where," demanded Amaterasu, goddess of the sun, "is the being who dared to steal rice from my divine fields?"
The café fell silent. Every head turned toward Viyrim, who sat up with sudden interest, a smile spreading across his face.
"Ah, the sun goddess herself! How delightful." He gestured expansively. "Your rice was exceptional, by the way. Perfect texture, sublime flavor. Truly worthy of divinity."
Amaterasu's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You admit to the theft?"
"I prefer 'divine sampling,'" Viyrim corrected. "And yes, absolutely. Best rice I've had in at least three universes."
The temperature in the café rose several more degrees as Amaterasu's divine aura flared. "You mock me, stranger?"
"Not at all," Viyrim assured her. "I'm paying you the highest compliment. Vados only steals from the best."
"At your direction," Vados murmured, earning a quelling glance from her master.
Gilgamesh observed the newcomer with narrowed eyes, clearly assessing the potential threat to her position. Artoria and Alter exchanged glances of rare agreement, while Scáthach shifted subtly into a more defensive posture. Arcueid merely watched with predatory interest, seemingly entertained by the developing situation.
"Your rice," Viyrim continued, oblivious to the rising tension among his other divine guests, "was so exceptional that I've been considering acquiring the source. Vados, didn't I mention something about keeping her kitchen too?"
"Indeed, my lord," Vados confirmed. "Your exact words were, 'I'll keep her kitchen too. Vados, she's mine now.'"
A collective intake of breath followed this revelation. Amaterasu's divine aura blazed like a solar flare, causing the café's windows to crack slightly from the heat.
"You dare," she said, her voice deceptively soft, "to claim ownership of me? Of my divine domain? I, who bring light to this world, who sustain life itself?"
Viyrim considered this for a moment. "Yes," he decided finally. "That sounds about right. Though I was mostly interested in the kitchen, the rest is a bonus."
For a moment, it seemed the café might not survive what was coming. Amaterasu's power gathered like a supernova preparing to explode, reality bending around her divine wrath.
Then, unexpectedly, Viyrim stood. With a casual gesture, he removed his blindfold entirely.
The cosmos looked out through his eyes—infinite, eternal, containing the birth and death of countless realities. Stars wheeled in his gaze, galaxies spiraled into oblivion, universes collapsed and reformed in endless cycles. It was destruction and creation as a unified force, raw cosmic power that transcended the boundaries of any single reality.
"You are magnificent," he told Amaterasu simply. "Truly. A divine force worthy of the highest respect. In any other circumstance, I would never dream of making such a claim."
The goddess faltered slightly, caught off-guard by both the cosmic display and the unexpected compliment.
"But," Viyrim continued, his voice resonating with power that belied his casual stance, "I am Viyrim, God of Destruction, Consumer of Worlds, Ender of Universes. I have extinguished stars far greater than you, devoured pantheons more ancient than your myths, and collapsed realities more robust than this one—all before breakfast."
He smiled, somehow both charming and terrifying simultaneously. "That said, I would much prefer to enjoy your divine cuisine than your divine essence. Won't you join us? Shirou has prepared a feast worthy of the sun itself."
A tense silence followed this speech. The gathered goddesses and divine spirits watched with bated breath, each reassessing the being they had been subtly competing over in light of this raw display of cosmic power.
Finally, amazingly, Amaterasu laughed—a sound like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Bold," she acknowledged. "Incredibly bold. Few beings would dare speak to me thus."
"Few beings could back it up," Viyrim pointed out, replacing his blindfold casually. "Though I meant no disrespect. Your rice really is exceptional."
Another moment of tension held the café in suspense. Then, with imperial dignity, Amaterasu inclined her head slightly. "I will sample your offerings," she declared, as if granting an immense favor. "And determine whether they merit forgiveness for your presumption."
"Splendid!" Viyrim clapped his hands together. "Vados, another chair for our radiant guest. The most comfortable one—she literally outshines our other divine visitors."
As Vados conjured an appropriately magnificent seat, Gilgamesh stood suddenly. "You cannot be serious," she hissed, crimson eyes flashing. "This solar upstart arrives with threats and theatrics, and you offer her a place at your table?"
"Upstart?" Amaterasu's voice could have withered continents. "I was worshipped when your humans were still huddling in caves, self-proclaimed 'king.'"
"I was two-thirds divine before your pantheon was even conceived," Gilgamesh countered. "And I earned my divinity rather than merely inheriting it."
The café's reality strained under the weight of clashing divine egos. Silverware began to vibrate on the table as conflicting auras battled for dominance.
"Ladies," Viyrim intervened, his tone balancing between amusement and warning. "Let's not destroy my café over matters of precedence. There's room enough at my table for all varieties of divinity."
His gaze swept over the assembled goddesses and divine spirits—Gilgamesh with her ancient power, Artoria and Alter with their opposing aspects of the same legendary soul, Rider with her fallen divinity, Arcueid with her lunar heritage, Scáthach with her immortal wisdom, and now Amaterasu with her solar magnificence.
"In fact," he continued thoughtfully, "I find myself increasingly appreciative of the diverse pantheon this reality has produced. Each of you brings something unique to the table—figuratively and literally."
This diplomatic observation seemed to mollify the divine egos somewhat. Gilgamesh reluctantly resumed her seat, though she positioned herself more prominently at Viyrim's right hand. Amaterasu took the chair Vados had provided, her divine light dimming to merely extraordinary rather than blinding.
"Your collection grows impressive," Scáthach observed quietly to Viyrim.
"Not a collection," he protested, though without conviction. "Merely... appreciative dining companions."
"Indeed," the immortal witch replied with knowing amusement. "And I suppose the fact that they're all divine or semi-divine females of exceptional power and beauty is mere coincidence?"
Viyrim actually appeared to flush slightly—a cosmic first witnessed by very few beings across multiple universes. "The cosmos works in mysterious ways," he muttered.
From the kitchen doorway, Shirou and Vados observed the gathering with similar expressions of disbelief.
"It's getting worse," Shirou whispered. "Or better, depending on your perspective, I guess."
"Lord Viyrim has always had an effect on powerful entities," Vados replied. "Though typically they offer submission out of terror rather than... other motivations."
"This can't end well," Shirou predicted. "Divine jealousy is the stuff of legends—literally. And he's collecting them like trading cards."
As if to prove his point, a subtle competition had already begun at the table. Amaterasu caused small solar flares to dance around her fingertips as she described traditional Japanese rice cultivation techniques. Not to be outdone, Gilgamesh manifested a small portal to display ancient Mesopotamian farming implements of solid gold. Artoria recounted tales of Camelot's feasts with noble gravity, while Alter countered with darker perspectives on the same events, each trying to capture Viyrim's attention.
The God of Destruction himself seemed simultaneously overwhelmed and delighted by the attention, his cosmic confidence momentarily replaced by something almost endearing in its bewilderment.
"Your breakfast, my lord," Vados announced, breaking into the competitive storytelling with perfect timing. She floated an elaborate tray to the center of the table—dishes designed to complement each divine guest's unique nature while harmonizing into a cohesive feast.
"Magnificent as always, Vados," Viyrim praised, visibly relieved for the distraction. "Ladies, shall we set aside matters of divine precedence and enjoy the true purpose of this establishment?"
The shared meal gradually eased tensions, though the competitive undercurrent remained. Each goddess or divine entity found reasons to direct questions or observations to Viyrim, seeking his exclusive attention in subtle ways.
"I'm curious," Amaterasu said during a momentary lull, "what brings a God of Destruction to this particular reality? Surely not just rice, exceptional though mine may be."
"Initially, boredom," Viyrim admitted candidly. "After conquering and destroying across countless universes, one seeks novel experiences."
"And now?" Arcueid prompted when he didn't elaborate.
Viyrim's gaze swept across the assembled company, lingering briefly on each divine face. "Now... I find myself unexpectedly invested in this reality's unique offerings."
"Its cuisine," Gilgamesh clarified, though her tone suggested she suspected otherwise.
"Among other delights," Viyrim agreed with a smile that caused several divine beings to shift imperceptibly closer to him.
The moment of tension-laden harmony was interrupted by the café door opening once again. This time, a young woman with purple hair entered hesitantly, her eyes widening as she took in the impossible gathering of divine entities.
"Sakura," Rider acknowledged, rising slightly. "Is everything alright?"
"I... I was looking for you," Sakura Matou explained, still staring at the assembled company with undisguised awe. "Shinji is... causing problems again."
Rider immediately moved to her Master's side, protective instincts engaged. "What has he done?"
Before Sakura could answer, the air around her shimmered strangely. A shadow seemed to pass across her features, momentarily transforming her expression into something darker, older, hungrier.
Viyrim sat forward abruptly, his cosmic senses tingling. "Interesting," he murmured. "Very interesting indeed. Vados, are you seeing this?"
"Yes, my lord," his attendant confirmed from nearby. "The human girl appears to be host to something... other."
The divine gathering had gone silent, each entity sensing the anomaly in their own way. Arcueid's crimson eyes narrowed, recognizing something primal and predatory. Amaterasu's light dimmed slightly as if encountering an opposing force of nature. Even Gilgamesh appeared momentarily disconcerted.
"Come here, child," Viyrim called gently, his voice carrying cosmic authority that was somehow reassuring rather than threatening.
Sakura hesitated, looking to Rider for guidance. The Servant nodded slightly, though she remained vigilantly at her Master's side as the girl approached Viyrim's table.
"You carry a passenger," Viyrim observed, studying her with senses that penetrated far deeper than physical sight. "Something ancient. Something hungry." His head tilted slightly. "Something divine, or once-divine, corrupted by time and circumstance."
Sakura paled, her hands trembling slightly. "I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do," Viyrim countered gently. "The shadow within you. The darkness that hungers. The void that consumes." He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'm quite familiar with cosmic corruption. I've caused enough of it myself."
The divine guests exchanged glances of varying concern. Artoria in particular appeared troubled, her sense of justice clearly conflicting with the revelations about Sakura.
"Can you... see it?" Sakura whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Yes," Viyrim confirmed. "Though 'see' is perhaps the wrong word. I sense it—one cosmic entity recognizing another, albeit one that has been... restricted. Confined. Imprisoned within human form."
"Dark Sakura," Rider supplied quietly. "The manifestation of All the World's Evil, channeled through my Master due to the Matou family's... experiments."
A ripple of disgust passed through the divine gathering. Even Alter, corrupted herself, appeared angered by this revelation.
"Such violation is beneath contempt," Gilgamesh declared with surprising vehemence. "Even in my darkest reign, I would not have permitted such treatment of my subjects."
"The Matou legacy is stained beyond redemption," Artoria agreed grimly.
Viyrim, however, was focusing on Sakura herself rather than the circumstances of her condition. "You contain multitudes," he told her with unexpected gentleness. "Power beyond mortal comprehension, yet you maintain your essential humanity despite it all. Quite remarkable."
Sakura blushed at the praise, clearly unused to being valued rather than feared for her condition. "It's not... I don't want..."
"Of course you don't," Viyrim agreed. "Few desire to become vessels for cosmic corruption. Nevertheless, you manage it with surprising grace."
He glanced at Vados, a silent communication passing between them. His attendant nodded almost imperceptibly and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Join us," Viyrim invited, gesturing to an empty chair that materialized beside Rider. "I believe Vados is preparing something that might help temporarily quiet your passenger."
"You can't remove it?" Artoria asked, surprising herself with her concern for the girl.
"Cosmic corruption at that level is deeply integrated," Viyrim explained. "Removing it improperly would likely destroy the host entirely. However," he added with a reassuring smile for Sakura, "there are ways to manage such things. Food being one of the more pleasant methods."
Vados returned with a small, elegant plate bearing what appeared to be a perfectly formed dark chocolate truffle, though it gleamed with an inner light that suggested far more complex components.
"Void Pacification," she announced, placing it before Sakura. "A specialized creation designed to temporarily satisfy cosmic hunger without strengthening it."
Sakura looked to Rider again, who nodded encouragingly. "It's safe," Viyrim assured her. "I've consumed far worse corruptions than yours for breakfast."
With hesitant movements, Sakura sampled the offering. The effect was immediate and visible—a tension she likely didn't even realize she carried seemed to leave her body, her posture relaxing as if a great weight had been momentarily lifted.
"Oh," she breathed, eyes widening in surprise. "It's... quiet now. The voices are still there, but... distant. Muffled."
"As I suspected," Viyrim nodded in satisfaction. "Your particular corruption responds to cosmic essence—recognizing a superior force, as it were."
"Thank you," Sakura said with genuine gratitude, a smile transforming her features from merely pretty to truly beautiful.
Several of the divine guests shifted uncomfortably, perhaps recognizing a potential new rival in Viyrim's growing collection. Gilgamesh in particular glared at the human girl with poorly concealed annoyance.
"It's temporary," Viyrim cautioned. "But Vados can prepare more. You're welcome in my café anytime, vessel of darkness."
"That's... not the most flattering nickname," Sakura noted with surprising humor.
Viyrim laughed, genuinely delighted by her response. "Fair enough. What would you prefer? 'Shadow Maiden'? 'Void Princess'? 'Harbinger of Cosmic Hunger'?"
"Just Sakura is fine," she replied with a small smile.
"Boring but functional," Viyrim agreed. "Very well, Just Sakura, consider yourself an honorary member of our little gathering."
"Speaking of which," Arcueid interjected, her tone carrying a hint of jealousy, "I believe we were discussing your interest in this reality's 'unique offerings' before this interruption."
"Ah yes," Viyrim nodded, returning his attention to his divine guests. "As I was saying, I find myself increasingly appreciative of this reality's... diversity."
His gaze lingered on each divine face in turn, somehow making each recipient feel individually acknowledged despite the group setting. It was a cosmic gift few gods possessed—the ability to make even other divine beings feel uniquely valued.
"This café was meant to be a temporary diversion," he continued, "a brief culinary vacation before moving on to new conquests. Instead, it has become..." he paused, searching for the right word, "...a nexus. A gathering point for powers and personalities I find increasingly fascinating."
"Fascinating enough to stay?" Scáthach asked directly, her ancient eyes assessing him with immortal perception.
Viyrim hesitated, genuinely uncertain—perhaps for the first time in eons. "I... haven't decided."
"What factors would influence such a decision?" Amaterasu inquired, her divine light brightening with interest.
Again, Viyrim's gaze swept the table, lingering momentarily on each divine face. "Continuing stimulation," he admitted finally. "Novel experiences. Worthy... companions."
The word hung in the air, charged with implications that transcended mere dining partnerships. An almost palpable wave of divine interest surged around the table, reality itself bending slightly under the collective focus of so many powerful entities.
"I believe," Gilgamesh said with deliberate casualness, "that this reality could provide ongoing interest for a being of your caliber. With the right guidance, of course."
"From someone who understands true divinity," Amaterasu added pointedly.
"And eternal existence," Scáthach contributed.
"And the balance between light and darkness," Artoria and Alter offered simultaneously, then glared at each other.
Viyrim looked momentarily overwhelmed by this unified front of divine interest—a God of Destruction finding himself, ironically, at a loss. "Well," he managed finally, "that's certainly... encouraging."
From their vantage point near the kitchen, Vados and Shirou observed the divine courtship ritual with mixed reactions.
"This is getting out of hand," Shirou muttered. "Half the Holy Grail War's participants are trying to date your boss instead of fighting each other."
"A significant improvement over mutual destruction, wouldn't you say?" Vados countered with a small smile.
"Maybe," Shirou conceded. "But what happens when a God of Destruction decides to start a divine harem in the middle of Fuyuki? The consequences could be..."
"Entertaining?" Vados suggested.
"I was going to say 'catastrophic,'" Shirou corrected her. "Divine jealousy has destroyed civilizations in the past."
Vados patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, young chef. Lord Viyrim may be new to this particular form of conquest, but he's conquered entire reality clusters before. I'm sure he can manage a few divine admirers without causing too much collateral damage."
As if to directly contradict her confidence, a flash of golden light suddenly erupted at the main table as Gilgamesh and Amaterasu's auras clashed over some perceived slight. Viyrim hastily intervened, somehow managing to compliment both divine beings simultaneously while keeping them from obliterating the café.
"Mostly sure, anyway," Vados amended with a sigh.
---
## Chapter 11: The Lucky God
Midnight found Viyrim floating in his private meditation chamber, a pocket dimension adjacent to the café that reflected the cosmic void he often retreated to when requiring contemplation. Stars wheeled slowly around him, galaxies spiraled in the distance, and the gentle hum of universal constants provided a soothing background to his thoughts.
"Vados," he called, sensing his attendant's presence at the dimensional threshold.
She materialized beside him, perfectly poised despite the lack of conventional gravity. "Yes, my lord?"
"Today was... unusual," he began, searching for words to describe the unprecedented developments in his divine existence.
"Indeed, my lord," Vados agreed neutrally. "Your collection of divine admirers grows quite impressive."
"Not a collection," Viyrim protested automatically, though with diminishing conviction. "They're simply... interested in the café. And its cuisine."
"Of course, my lord. The seven goddesses and divine entities who competed for your attention throughout the day were merely enthusiastic about the menu."
Viyrim scowled, an expression that had caused solar systems to implode in the past but merely earned an indulgent smile from his long-suffering attendant. "Your sarcasm is noted, Vados."
"I live to serve, my lord."
He sighed, cosmic energy rippling outward with the exhale. "I don't understand it. I've visited countless realities, encountered innumerable divine beings. Usually, they either challenge me for dominance or cower in terror. This... attention... is unprecedented."
"Perhaps because you came not as conqueror but as connoisseur," Vados suggested. "You've shown appreciation rather than dominance, interest rather than intimidation."
"I've destroyed universes," Viyrim muttered, almost petulantly. "I'm the God of Destruction, not some... some..."
"Object of divine desire?" Vados supplied helpfully.
Viyrim actually sputtered—another cosmic first. "That's not—I didn't—they aren't—"
"With respect, my lord, they absolutely are." Vados's tone became more serious. "You possess power that rivals or exceeds their own, yet you've shown interest in their unique qualities rather than merely their submission. For beings accustomed to either worship or warfare, such appreciation from an equal—or superior—is intoxicating."
Viyrim fell silent, contemplating this perspective. "It's... flattering," he admitted finally. "But potentially problematic. Divine jealousy has unmade worlds before."
"Indeed," Vados agreed. "Though there may be alternatives to choosing just one."
"Meaning?"
"Many pantheons throughout the multiverse feature divine entities with multiple consorts," Vados observed clinically. "Given your status as an entity outside this reality's normal constraints, conventional limitations need not apply."
Viyrim stared at her. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"
"I merely offer cosmic observations, my lord." Vados's expression remained professionally neutral despite the amusement dancing in her eyes. "Your happiness is, after all, my primary concern."
Before Viyrim could respond to this outrageous statement, a disturbance rippled through his private dimension—someone was attempting to enter. Someone with considerable power.
"Interesting," Vados murmured. "It appears one of your admirers has tracked you to your private sanctuary."
"That should be impossible," Viyrim frowned. "This pocket dimension exists outside normal spacetime."
"Divine determination can overcome many barriers," Vados noted. "Shall I deny entry?"
Curiosity overcame caution. "No," Viyrim decided. "Let's see who's bold enough to seek me in my private domain."
With a gesture from Vados, the dimensional barrier thinned. Through it stepped Gilgamesh, her golden armor replaced by flowing robes of crimson and gold that complemented her eyes. She carried what appeared to be an ancient bottle, its surface etched with symbols predating written language.
"King of Heroes," Viyrim acknowledged, recovering his composure. "This is unexpected."
"Is it?" Gilgamesh challenged, her eyes taking in the cosmic void with appreciative assessment. "Did you think I would allow the sun goddess to outmaneuver me? Or that immortal witch to claim precedence?"
"I wasn't aware there was a competition," Viyrim replied, though his tone suggested otherwise.
Gilgamesh's smile was both predatory and alluring. "There is always competition for the finest treasures, God of Destruction. And you have proven yourself... worthy of inclusion in my collection."
"Your collection?" Viyrim raised an eyebrow. "I believe you've confused our respective positions, King of Heroes. Gods don't belong in collections—they make them."
"Perhaps," Gilgamesh conceded, approaching with measured steps that somehow functioned perfectly in the zero-gravity environment. "Or perhaps the rarest treasures are those that collect each other."
She extended the ancient bottle. "A peace offering. Wine pressed from grapes grown in the Garden of the Gods, before humanity's creation. It has never been sampled by mortal lips."
Despite himself, Viyrim was intrigued. He accepted the bottle, examining it with senses that penetrated far deeper than physical sight. "Impressive," he acknowledged. "Truly ancient, even by divine standards."
"I thought you might appreciate it," Gilgamesh said, satisfaction evident in her tone. "Unlike some of your other... admirers... I understand the value of quality over mere power."
"A thinly veiled criticism of your rivals," Viyrim observed with amusement. "Though not entirely inaccurate."
With a gesture, he created a small floating table between them, complete with two goblets that appeared carved from crystallized starlight. "Shall we sample this ancient vintage together?"
As they shared the truly exceptional wine, their conversation flowed with surprising ease—two ancient, powerful beings finding unexpected common ground in their experiences of divinity, power, and the burden of eternal existence.
"You understand," Gilgamesh said at one point, her crimson eyes meeting his cosmic gaze directly, "what the others cannot. The isolation of true power. The tedium of immortality without worthy companionship."
"Loneliness isn't typically a condition associated with gods," Viyrim admitted. "But perhaps it should be. Worship is poor substitute for understanding."
"Precisely," Gilgamesh agreed with unexpected passion. "Adoration without comprehension becomes hollow. Fear without respect becomes tiresome."
Their goblets clinked together in shared sentiment, divine energies harmonizing in subtle, pleasing ways that caused the pocket dimension to shimmer slightly around them.
The moment might have developed further had the dimensional barrier not rippled again, admitting another visitor without warning or invitation.
Amaterasu stepped through, her divine light temporarily dimmed to avoid overwhelming the cosmic space but no less magnificent for the restraint. She carried what appeared to be a small, exquisitely crafted box of gleaming wood.
"Am I interrupting?" she inquired with feigned innocence, though her eyes narrowed at the intimate tableau before her.
"Yes," Gilgamesh stated flatly.
"Not at all," Viyrim countered simultaneously, cosmic manners overriding honesty. "The King of Heroes was just sharing an exceptional vintage from her collection."
"How quaint," Amaterasu remarked, approaching with solar grace. "I bring something rather more significant. A gift worthy of a God of Destruction."
She presented the wooden box, which seemed to pulse with contained power. When Viyrim accepted and opened it, a small rice ball sat within—unremarkable in appearance but radiating divine energy that could be felt even in the cosmic void.
"Rice from the fields of the sun itself," Amaterasu explained. "Grown in divine light, harvested by immortal hands, imbued with the essence of creation rather than mere sustenance."
Viyrim's cosmic senses confirmed her claims—this was no ordinary food but condensed divine power in edible form. "A magnificent offering," he acknowledged sincerely. "Thank you, Goddess of the Sun."
Gilgamesh's expression darkened at Viyrim's evident appreciation. "Rice," she said dismissively. "How provincial compared to the drink of the gods themselves."
"Food sustains," Amaterasu countered smoothly. "Wine merely intoxicates. Which gift shows greater care for the recipient's wellbeing?"
Before this divine argument could escalate, the dimensional barrier rippled yet again. This time, Artoria and Alter stepped through together—a surprising cooperation that suggested temporary alliance against common rivals.
"We sensed divine energies gathering," Artoria explained, her gaze taking in the existing company with obvious disappointment. "It seems we were... not the first to seek your counsel, God of Destruction."
"Counsel," Gilgamesh repeated with barely disguised scorn. "Is that what you're calling it now?"
Alter's darkness swirled ominously. "Watch your tone, King of Heroes, or discover how corruption affects even divine flesh."
The dimensional pocket vibrated with rising tension as divine auras began to clash. Viyrim looked to Vados with an expression approaching panic, but his attendant merely smiled benignly, clearly unwilling to rescue him from his self-created predicament.
Before he could formulate a diplomatic response, the barrier rippled three more times in rapid succession, admitting Arcueid, Rider, and Scáthach in quick order. Each carried gifts of their own—Arcueid with what appeared to be crystallized moonlight, Rider with an ancient amphora, and Scáthach with a small vial of luminescent liquid.
"This is ridiculous," Gilgamesh declared, golden portals beginning to shimmer into existence around her. "The God of Destruction requires no such desperate courtship from lesser entities."
"Lesser?" Amaterasu's divine light flared dangerously. "Your arrogance exceeds even your divinity, child-king."
"Both of you overestimate your importance," Scáthach stated coldly, immortal power gathering around her. "I walked between worlds when your pantheons were mere whispers in the cosmic void."
As divine auras clashed and reality strained under their collective power, Viyrim found himself in the utterly foreign position of peacemaker rather than destroyer. "Ladies," he began, raising his hands placatingly, "while I'm flattered by your attention—"
The dimensional pocket suddenly lurched sideways, cosmic geometry folding in ways that defied conventional physics. All present—even Vados—looked startled as space itself seemed to hiccup around them.
"What was that?" Arcueid demanded, her predatory senses on high alert.
"Reality strain," Vados explained, finally intervening. "The combined divine energies of eight exceptionally powerful entities—nine including Lord Viyrim—are causing dimensional instability."
As if to emphasize her point, space lurched again. This time, the movement sent the divine visitors tumbling in the zero-gravity environment, cosmic dignity temporarily forgotten as they collided with each other and, inevitably, with Viyrim.
What followed could only be described as divine chaos. Gilgamesh crashed into Viyrim from one side while Amaterasu collided from the other. Artoria and Alter, attempting to stabilize each other, instead spun directly into the growing tangle of divine limbs. Arcueid, using her superior reflexes, managed to avoid the initial collision only to be caught by another spatial distortion that sent her tumbling into the group from above. Rider and Scáthach, despite their legendary grace, found themselves similarly ensnared in the cosmic pileup.
The result was Viyrim, God of Destruction and Consumer of Worlds, buried beneath a tangled mass of divine women, each scrambling for dignity and position while reality continued to hiccup around them.
"This is—" Viyrim gasped, finding himself in the unprecedented position of being physically overwhelmed. "Ladies, please—"
His protests were cut short as another dimensional shift sent them tumbling again, rearranging the divine pileup in new and increasingly compromising configurations. Hands grasped for stability and found unintended targets. Divine bodies pressed against each other in ways that transcended mere physical contact, auras mingling in combinations that sent ripples of energy cascading through the pocket dimension.
"My lord," Vados observed from her safely maintained distance, not bothering to hide her amusement, "I believe the humans have a term for this situation: 'The lucky pervert scenario.'"
"Not helping, Vados!" Viyrim called from somewhere beneath Gilgamesh's golden hair and Amaterasu's solar radiance, while trying to avoid Artoria's armored elbow and Arcueid's accidentally extended claws.
The dimensional pocket gave one final, dramatic lurch before stabilizing. As the divine entities disentangled themselves with varying degrees of embarrassment and indignation, Viyrim emerged from the bottom of the pile looking thoroughly disheveled—his normally immaculate robes askew, his blindfold hanging around his neck, his cosmic hair standing in every direction.
For a being who had maintained perfect composure while destroying entire universes, his current state of divine disarray was nothing short of revolutionary.
"Well," he said, attempting to recover some semblance of cosmic dignity, "that was... unexpected."
"Your dimensional pocket appears to have stabilized, my lord," Vados informed him helpfully. "Though I recommend against housing so many divine entities in such close proximity again without proper metaphysical reinforcement."
The divine visitors straightened their attire with supernatural speed, each pretending the undignified incident hadn't occurred while simultaneously shooting accusatory glances at their rivals.
"I believe," Scáthach said finally, breaking the awkward silence, "that this demonstrates the need for a more... structured approach to these gatherings."
"Agreed," Artoria stated firmly