My Wives are Beautiful Demons

It wasn't fear—it was something more primal. An instinct, engraved in the core of any being with a soul. The immediate recognition that something before him was greater, older, and infinitely more dangerous.

The woman smiled. It was not a smile of joy nor of courtesy... it was a smile that knew the taste of destruction, the flavor of absolute control.

Vergil remained upright, but he felt the arcane pressure trying to push him to the ground, as if the world around the Queen was bowing to her presence.

It was like staring into the eye of a hurricane that was watching him back, not with anger, but with the curiosity of someone who decides, on a whim, whether something should live or be crushed.

"Holy shit... She has more than a thousand times my energy."

It was the only lucid thought Vergil could form before her voice pierced the air again.

"You feel it, don't you?" she whispered, still without moving her feet, as if she didn't need to. "You know exactly what's in front of you. You're damn strong. Usually people don't feel anything; after all, my energy is so great that the world around it disguises it."

She took a step forward.

The ground beneath her feet did not crack or groan; it simply obeyed, as if gravity molded itself in reverence and had no effect on her... She simply made no noise. It was real. The world disguised her existence.

"Damn..." Katharina swore under her breath, already pulling a protective sigil into the air with her fingertips.

Viviane, on the other hand, remained motionless, as if pretending to be calm was the last possible form of dignity. 'Fucking Magic Slut.' She just thought that, 'She's showing herself to him.'

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" the Queen asked, still staring at Vergil. "Or are you just going to continue measuring me with those eyes so... deliciously deadly?"

Vergil took a deep breath, his voice coming out deeper than usual... not by choice, but because of the overwhelming pressure she exerted on the room.

"You already know my name."

The queen raised an eyebrow, pleased with his boldness. Her gaze slowly descended his body, as if she were undressing him with her eyes alone. A shiver ran down his spine—and he knew she had felt it.

"Vergil..." she savored the name as if it were a rare wine. "You are even more interesting than Morgana told me."

Morgana, standing nearby, snorted silently, clearly uncomfortable—and perhaps jealous.

"I found it curious... my own daughter coming to me and asking me to erase someone from history..." The Queen spoke with a touch of irony, almost amused. She paused briefly, her lips curving into an enigmatic smile. "Vergil Kennedy..."

She savored the name as if it were a rare piece on a chessboard.

"Agares, Baal, Sitri, Lucifer... so many primordial lineages gathered in a single man." Her voice was soft as velvet, but there was steel behind it. "It's almost comical... such an irregular existence. So... unlikely."

She let the sentence hang in the air like smoke.

Then, as if assessing the decorations in a room, she turned her gaze to Viviane and Katharina. A brief, clinical look—like someone observing fine crystal glasses about to be clinked.

"And your companions...?" She said, in a casual tone, as if talking about inconvenient shadows.

"None of your business," Viviane replied coldly, without hesitation.

The queen looked at her. Then she laughed. A low, musical laugh, full of scorn and pleasure.

"Oh, my dear... everything is my business. I am here for Vergil, yes, but everything around him automatically becomes relevant. Especially... you."

She took another step forward. The shadows around the room stretched out, flickering as if they had a will of their own. The light receded from the edges of the room.

"So, how about keeping quiet, Viviane? Before my patience turns to longing?"

Viviane stared at her for a moment, serious—and then sighed, long and deeply, like someone facing an old habit.

"Seris... you never change, do you?" She said, in an informal tone that broke, for a moment, the weight of the moment.

Vergil slowly turned his face toward her, one eyebrow arched.

"Seris?" he repeated, confused.

Viviane sighed again, now with a touch of resignation.

"Her name." She gestured vaguely toward the woman before them. "Seris D'Arkhan. The Queen of Witches."

A heavy silence fell over the room. The name seemed to reverberate off the walls, like an ancient spell whispered into the ear of the world.

The silence that followed the name Seris D'Arkhan was almost physical, as if the walls of Agares Manor feared echoing any sound that might contradict it.

The Queen of Witches, however, only smiled—and this time, with something more... peculiar. There was a spark of madness in her eyes, an almost childlike gleam, like that of a child who had just found a new toy after millennia of boredom.

"Ah, Viviane... you're always so rude." Seris said, in a cheerful and out-of-place tone, as if commenting on the weather. "But now is not the time to exchange barbs; it's time to talk... about the future. About cycles."

And then, as if remembering something very important, she clapped her hands with a strange and theatrical enthusiasm.

"We have to talk, don't you think?"

And then, as if invisible thunder had exploded inside the room, everyone—Viviane, Katharina, Morgana, and even Alice—fell to the floor like puppets with their strings cut.

Only Vergil remained standing.

His demonic aura exploded in an instant. Not as an attack, but as a shield. The arcane marks on his arms glowed like living embers, forming an invisible wall of pure force around himself and the women who accompanied him.

He held them all in the air with his energy. Not with brutality, but with an almost reverent firmness—as if he refused to allow any of them to touch the ground by Seris's command.

The four were gently brought to the ground without the slightest impact. Still unconscious, yes, but untouched. No marks. No damage.

Seris's gaze changed.

Not to anger.

But to fascination.

She spun around in place, as if dancing with the weight of gravity she herself had imposed on the room. Her black dress swirled like living smoke, and her hair cast shadows wherever it passed.

"Look at that..." she whispered. "You really have something. It's not just a mistake... you're a challenge to the order of things."

She tilted her head to the side, eyes half-closed, and her lips curved into a smile that was both lascivious and maniacal at the same time.

"Vergil Kennedy... you just turned me on on five different levels of reality."

Vergil didn't respond. His expression was like ice tempered in steel: unshakable, impenetrable. But his eyes... his eyes were fixed on her like demonic stakes, trying to understand where the madness ended and the real threat began.

Alice still lay between them, like a crucial piece on the board, shrouded in silence.

Seris then stopped right in the center of the room.

"Let's talk, you and I." She pointed at him with a finger covered by a delicate black ring that looked like it was made of solid darkness. "Alone. No interruptions, no drama."

She smiled, showing her perfect, dangerous teeth.

"Or... would you rather I sing first? I can sing, you know? I once broke an entire plan with a high note."

Vergil took a step forward, his voice coming out low and steady, like thunder that refuses to shout.

"Speak up. While you still have my attention."

Seris smiled even more.

And the game had finally begun.