The swinging kitchen door closed behind her with a soft whump.
Pearl barely made it three steps before she grabbed her stomach with both hands.
"You noisy menace!" she snapped. "Do you want him to find out I turned his target into lunch?!"
"What I want," the oni growled, voice echoing wetly from inside, "is to get out of here and introduce your smug face to my club!"
"Well, that's not happening," Pearl shot back. "You forfeited your right to weapon use when you tried to rob me blind."
"You tricked me with hospitality! 'Oh, please have a seat, weary traveler, eat as much as you like.' And then BAM, you ambush and swallow me whole in the back room!"
"That's called strategy," Pearl retorted. "You should try it sometime instead of just screaming your way through life."
"At least I HAVE a life!"
"And I'm trying to use it as fertilizer for my next batch of stew."
"THAT'S NOT HOW STEW WORKS!"
"Oh, trust me, I'm very creative."
Electricity surged again, prickling along her insides.
"Don't you—"
The blast hit, even stronger.
"GAAAH—!!"
Pearl collapsed to one knee, claws scraping against the tiled floor. Her wings fluttered, scales crackling with residual energy. Her tail blade slammed into a cabinet, rattling the dishes.
"HOW'S THAT, YOU CHEAP DINER DRAGON?!" the oni shouted. "FIVE STARS FOR ELECTRICAL SERVICE?!"
"If you fry one more organ," Pearl hissed, body trembling, "I swear I will… I will… burp you into the stratosphere…"
"You can try!"
They wrestled like that: dragon against captive, predator against prey who refused to act like prey. The afternoon sun slid lower outside, sending longer stripes of light through the small kitchen window, cutting across Pearl's heaving form on the floor.
Out in the dining room, faint thumps and muffled yelling seeped through the wall.
Mercer closed the menu slowly, listening.
"…This feels above minimum wage," he murmured.
A particularly loud CRASH rang out.
He stood.
"Miss Pearl?" he called toward the kitchen. "I heard a loud noise—do you need help?"
Inside, Pearl was sprawled half on her side, one hand braced on the tiles, the other clamped desperately around her stomach. Her wings trembled. Sweat beaded at the edges of her scales.
"I'M FINE!" she yelled back, voice cracking. "Just… a small accident! Stay out there!"
"YOU CALL THIS SMALL?!" the oni screamed. "I'M IN VOLCANIC PRISON!"
"SHUT UP!" Pearl bellowed at her stomach. "YOU ARE MAKING THIS WORSE!"
She gritted her teeth and tried to force her stomach to work faster, pouring more heat, more magic, more acid into the chamber. The oni's answer was to unleash even more electricity, turning the environment into a warzone of muscle, magic, and stubbornness.
They slammed into stalemate.
Pearl panted, every breath a strained growl.
"…Okay, that's it," Mercer muttered. He pushed through the kitchen door.
"Miss—"
He stopped.
The elegant dragoness, graceful owner of the Dragon's Den… was sprawled on the floor like she'd been in a bar brawl with gravity. Her stomach bulged and wriggled in obviously wrong ways, as if someone inside was shadowboxing for their life. Her apron was rumpled, her expression flustered and pained.
Her aura of untouchable poise had taken a direct hit.
Pearl's head snapped up, eyes wide with horror.
"I… I can explain," she said hoarsely.
Her stomach shifted again, a visible elbow-shaped bump pressing out for an instant.
"…It's not," she added weakly, "…what it looks like."
Mercer stared for a moment, then let out a slow breath.
"All right," he said calmly. "I'm just going to accept that it is exactly what it looks like… and fix it."
He raised his hands. Pale threads of light began to spin into existence around his fingers, luminous and fluid.
Inside, the oni paused mid-thrash.
"…Hey. What is that?"
Pearl blinked, still gasping.
"You… can help?" she asked, stunned.
Mercer offered a small, reassuring smile.
"I know a spell for… internal extraction," he said. "Hold still."
Pearl tried. The oni did not.
"DON'T YOU DARE LET RANDOM STRANGERS CAST MAGIC ON ME!" she shouted. "I DIDN'T SIGN A WAIVER!"
"You also didn't sign your bill," Mercer muttered.
He stepped closer and gently pressed his glowing hands toward Pearl's stomach. The luminous threads seeped through her scales like mist. Inside, they coiled around the oni in smooth, binding loops.
"Hey—HEY! PERSONAL SPACE!" Kurohana snarled. "What is this? Unhand me, weird spaghetti magic!"
Mercer drew in a breath, then clenched his fists and pulled.
There was a twisting sensation—not just physical, but conceptual, like something being ripped out of the idea of "inside." Pearl gasped, feeling a sudden rush of emptiness. The weight that had been lodged in her stomach since earlier that day was just… gone.
Out in the dining room, something heavy hit the floor with a wet THUD.
Pearl sagged back, dropping onto her side. One trembling hand moved to her now-flat belly.
"Empty…" she whispered. "Oh, thank the flames…"
She let her head thump gently against the wall, breathing hard.
"You actually did it," she murmured, looking at Mercer with dazed disbelief. "How…?"
Mercer lowered his hands, the last bits of light fading from his fingers.
"Trade secret," he said lightly. "Later. For now, just… breathe."
He gave a small nod and stepped back into the dining area.
The late afternoon light had shifted deeper, painting the diner in richer oranges and long shadows. In the middle of the floor, dripping slightly and breathing hard, stood a tall, red-skinned woman. Her wild hair fell in jagged waves around her face; twin horns curled from her skull. A massive spiked club lay beside her, still faintly crackling with electricity.
Her eyes—sharp, feral, furious—locked onto Mercer.
He blinked.
"Oh," he said. "You must be the one who's been fighting adventurers."
She swung her gaze fully to him, glower intensifying.
"You," she growled. "You're the one who sent those idiots after me?"
Mercer raised both hands in immediate surrender.
"Nope," he said quickly. "Not me. I actually came here to recruit you."
She faltered, her scowl shifting to suspicious confusion.
"…Recruit?"
"Yep." He nodded, letting his hands lower slowly. "For my future guild."
She narrowed her eyes, electricity flickering faintly along her arms.
"You're weird," she decided.
"Accurate," he said easily. "But I'm serious."
Behind him, Pearl leaned heavily against the kitchen doorframe, one hand braced on the wood, the other resting on her now-quiet stomach. Her hair-spines were slightly messy; her wings drooped a little from exhaustion. Still, she watched with sharp, interested eyes.
The oni rolled her shoulders, flexed her fingers, and glanced past Mercer at the dragoness.
"You," she snapped at Pearl, voice crackling like distant thunder. "You owe me a real fight."
Pearl snorted.
"You owe me a pantry," she countered. "Between the two, I think I'm still more in debt."
The oni bristled.
"I was going to pay—"
"With what?" Pearl interrupted. "Thunderstorms and attitude?"
"I HAVE CURRENCY!"
"You had a club and a temper."
Mercer cleared his throat, stepping between them slightly before round two started.
"Right," he said. "Introductions. That usually helps."
He smiled up at the oni.
"I'm Mercer Bloodheart," he said. "Magician. Future guild master of something I plan to call the Covenant of Fire. I came out here specifically hoping to find you."
She stared at him like he'd sprouted extra heads.
"…You came looking for me?" she asked. "On purpose?"
"Yes."
"And after seeing me get eaten and spat back out, you still want to recruit me?"
"Well, technically she didn't spit you out," Mercer said. "I pulled you out."
Pearl coughed into her fist, looking away.
"Minor detail," she muttered.
The oni folded her arms, electricity crackling gently along the spikes of her club as she picked it up again.
"And why," she asked slowly, "would you want someone like me in your guild?"
"Because you're interesting," Mercer said without missing a beat. "Strong. Unique. Society barely has any information on oni. You're exactly the kind of person I want standing with me when things get worse out there."
He extended his hand, eyes bright with that stubborn little spark his bedtime stories had planted in him years ago.
"I'm trying to build a guild where monsters, dragons, humans, and everything in between can stand together," he said. "For survival, friendship, and unity. And I'd really like you to join."
Pearl watched quietly, towel still in her hand, stomach finally still and calm. The oni stared at that outstretched hand for a long moment, the afternoon sun glinting off the metal of her club.
Outside, Omnilith turned another inch toward evening.
Inside the Dragon's Den, the Covenant of Fire took its first breath.