The Holy Lord and the Demon Dragon froze in place for a good while.
If Ron hadn't told them to sit down, they might've stood there until the tavern closed.
Soon, Lucoa came over, placing two bottles of liquor before them.
"Your drinks. Enjoy."
"Thank you!" The Holy Lord bowed deeply, almost pressing his head to the table.
Beside him, the Demon Dragon mimicked him, posture low and tense.
Ron chuckled. "So, training your 'alt account' last night—did Demon Dragon mess it up again?"
Before the Holy Lord could reply, the dragon snorted.
"This old man was just one step away from finishing last night."
"What a shame. Hell's full of my eyes now—don't think you can sneak in any side quests."
He paused, grumbling, "Should've pinned you to the wall when I had the chance…"
The Holy Lord's face darkened mid-drink. His fingers twitched, but he forced himself to hold back.
He changed the subject quickly, lowering his voice.
"Boss… that woman—who exactly is she?"
Ron lit a cigarette, smiling faintly.
"One of the creators of Mesopotamia. A supreme deity."
"To be precise, she's the Feathered Serpent Goddess—ruler of culture and its spread."
"No wonder…" The Holy Lord and Demon Dragon exchanged a shocked glance, nodding slowly.
Everything made sense now. Just meeting her eyes earlier had felt like falling into an endless abyss, as if they themselves were nothing but grains of sand.
Just then, a crisp chime snapped them back to reality.
Ding-ling!
The tavern door swung open.
Under their gaze, Silvers Rayleigh strode in with his usual swagger, shouting as he entered,
"Ron! Bring me a drink! Last night was my finest battle yet! Half an inch into enemy lines, hundreds of rounds fought—Shakky was pouring water by the end!"
Ron snorted. "I can't listen to this nonsense anymore. Using 'Tiger Whip Wine' as a compensator now? You've really lost your shame."
"Even I'm starting to feel secondhand embarrassment."
Rayleigh sighed. "Come on, you can't blame an old man for staying prepared."
"Prepared?" Ron snickered. "You mean clinging to what's left."
"Bah! You're still wet behind the ears." Rayleigh grumbled as he stomped toward the counter.
But the moment he saw the Holy Lord and Demon Dragon sitting there, his steps halted.
His heart skipped a beat. He'd met them once before—but those demonic faces and the aura around them...
It was like standing before monsters that had crawled straight out of Hell. Cold. Malevolent. Suffocating.
Ron hurried over, dragging Rayleigh to a seat beside them.
"They're friendly. Don't be scared."
Rayleigh's face went dark. Friendly?
He'd sooner believe they snacked on people every morning!
The Holy Lord smiled thinly. "I heard from the boss—you drink Tiger Whip Wine too. Having... issues?"
"One of my abilities is curing all ailments in this world."
"I can't promise to make you young again, but I can at least help you last a few more rounds."
He forced a pleasant tone and even managed a stiff smile, though his deep, resonant voice still made Rayleigh's spine tingle.
Truthfully, the Holy Lord was only being polite out of respect for Ron—and because of Lucoa and Yoruichi's presence.
If he could befriend the tavern's patrons, maybe—just maybe—one of them could help him escape Hell and return to Blue Star.
Slim odds, sure. But worth a try.
"Really?" Rayleigh's cloudy old eyes suddenly gleamed.
"Of course." The Holy Lord raised a clawed hand, resting it on Rayleigh's shoulder.
In an instant, a bright white light flared.
Rayleigh felt warmth flood through him, like soaking in a hot spring.
All the injuries and hidden ailments from decades of battles vanished.
He even felt… those two tired organs and his "ammunition reserves" being gently rejuvenated.
His fighting spirit soared.
But then—
The feeling stopped.
Abruptly.
As if someone had yanked him out of paradise and dropped him straight into hell.
"What the—? Why did it stop?!" Rayleigh scowled.
This wasn't healing! He'd just gained a few extra seconds on the battlefield, that's all.
All his dreams of future romance, a full ammo belt, and two indestructible kidneys—shattered!
"Strange… that shouldn't happen." The Holy Lord scratched his head in confusion.
Ron laughed. "Even a noble steed can cure all ills—but not that one. Kidney deficiency's not a sickness, old man. Accept your fate."
"Sigh…" Rayleigh exhaled, slumping over his drink.
Poor, broke, and old—and still cursed with desire.
Worst part? His body couldn't even back him up anymore.
If Roger saw him now, he'd laugh himself to death.
Just as Rayleigh sank into despair, the tavern door burst open again.
A gray-furred wolf burst in, hurrying to the counter.
"Boss! I brought you the second-generation enlargement–shrinkage pills!"
"They can change the size of any body part—at will!"
"Good work." Ron nodded, pleased. He turned to Rem behind the bar.
"When Grey Wolf leaves, pack him a sheep. No—two."
"Yes, Master." Rem smiled sweetly and nodded.
Rayleigh perked right up. His heart pounded. His blood boiled.
Adrenaline surged through him.
Two sheep… for that kind of miracle drug?!
He stared at the bottle of pills in Ron's hand, eyes burning with desperate longing.
"Want one?" Ron asked.
Rayleigh nodded frantically.
"One Devil Fruit for five pills. Fair trade, isn't it?" Ron grinned.
"Surely the Dark King, right-hand man of the Pirate King, has at least one Devil Fruit lying around?"
Rayleigh's face darkened. His teeth ground together as he spat out each word:
"Brat… that's daylight robbery!"
Advance Chapters available on Patreon
patreon.com/ZoroTL442