My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Vergil gazed at the sky of his soul, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and disbelief. The colossal figures of Crymsaria and Nivara clashed above the spider lilies like enraged deities, elemental sparks crossing the crimson firmament. Scarlet flames and biting blizzards dueled in eternal cycles, without rest, without respite.

A sigh escaped his lips—heavy, filled with something between resignation and disbelief.

That sound was enough.

With a sudden rustle, Fenrhaem, the black-coated wolf with steel eyes, appeared beside him, like a living shadow emerging from the ground itself. The creature did not growl, did not greet him. It just stood there, silent for a second before speaking in its deep, calm voice:

"They've been like this since the moment you fell. Since your collapse, they haven't stopped."

Vergil turned his face slowly, staring at the wolf with a blank expression. "And no one tried... to stop them?"

Before Fenrhaem could answer, a familiar silhouette appeared to his left. The humanoid form of Itharine walked among the lilies, her gray skin glistening in the crimson light, her purple eyes shining with restlessness.

"We tried, of course," she replied, crossing her arms with a tense expression. "But it's useless. They never tire. Ever. There have been one hundred and fifty confrontations, Master. Exactly. And they all ended the same way: in a stalemate. There is no progress. Only cyclical destruction."

Vergil brought his hand to his forehead, massaging his temples. He felt as if his spirit were constantly being stretched and compressed by the forces colliding above him.

"How... how am I still alive with this going on inside me?"

Itharine looked at him with regret. "Because, apparently... they have merged with you."

Silence fell like a knife. Not even the rustling of lilies. Not even the distant growl of elemental thunder. Just the phrase hanging in the air, like a sentence difficult to absorb.

Vergil blinked a few times, staring at the shadow woman.

"That doesn't make sense. Fused... how? They were entities. Incomprehensible. And... opposites."

Itharine sighed, taking a step forward. "I know. But... something has changed. Since that moment when you disappeared from reality. Since everything was 'erased'. Their auras... no longer exist as they did before. They are not two distinct forces now. They are... almost one. Almost identical. The only thing that still differs... is the elemental. One is eternal fire. The other, ancient ice. But in essence... they are one source of power... You."

Vergil looked up at the sky of his soul again. The two dragons circled each other, trapped in an endless cosmic dance. Their roars were no longer cries of rage—they sounded like out-of-tune chants of the same melody.

"I know my body is really strange, but this goes beyond strangeness," he muttered. "This is the most absurd thing I've ever heard."

Without knowing why, he tried to expand his aura, as an instinctive gesture, seeking to feel them, to understand what was really happening. But what he found was the most unexpected thing of all:

Nothing.

His aura stretched out—vast, deep, pulsing like an ocean about to swallow everything. It took in the surrounding air, filled the ground, flowed through the lilies, passed through the layers of his soul like a new wind...

But it didn't touch them.

It was as if the dragons were part of the very fabric of his aura. Not as invasive presences. But as extensions.

Vergil staggered a step back, looking at his hands. "I... can't feel them. As if they weren't 'external entities'... as if... they were inside the structure of my soul. Dissolved into it."

Itharine nodded with a serious look. "Exactly. They are not inhabiting your soul. They are now part of it."

And then, as if those words had some magical weight, Crymsaria and Nivara stopped their battle. They both stopped in midair at the same time, as if some invisible force had touched both their hearts.

They felt it.

They felt him.

Vergil.

Their colossal eyes—flaming rubies and glacial diamonds—turned to the floor of spider lilies, and for a brief second, both stood motionless. The sky roared in silence. The world seemed to hold its breath.

The change was sudden.

The moment Vergil's aura expanded and spread like an invisible wave across the entire spiritual plane, Crymsaria and Nivara reacted brutally. Without warning, without hesitation, they plummeted from the skies like living meteors, their eyes flashing with fury and their claws extended—one aimed at Vergil's heart, the other at his face.

The impact never happened.

At the exact moment when the claws would cut through the space to him, the air around Vergil distorted.

As if the universe around him obeyed only his presence, an overwhelming force, invisible but unquestionably absolute, emerged. It wasn't an aura. It wasn't magic. It was as if the very concept of "touching Vergil" had been forbidden by reality.

The gravity around him tripled, quintupled, centupled. The ground shook. And in a split second, the two Empresses were torn from the air and thrown to the ground, like leaves being pulled by a black hole.

CRASH!

Crymsaria was the first to hit the ground, her claw digging into the earth before she could even comprehend what had struck her. Next, Nivara fell on the opposite side, dragging ice and snow along with her impact, roaring in frustration. Their colossal bodies tried to move, but it was useless—it was as if the gravity of a thousand suns was crushing them, without Vergil even blinking.

Even so, they fought.

Their eyes burned with fire and ice, trying to get up, resisting, sinking even further. Their wings writhed. Their claws dug in. But nothing worked. The more anger they felt, the more the pressure increased.

Until, finally, they gave up.

The gravity ceased in an instant. Not because Vergil "deactivated" it. But because he no longer needed to defend himself. The two Empresses, sovereigns of their own nature, had been tamed by something they did not understand. And that enraged them even more.

Both roared, their screams echoing through the layers of the soul like pure thunder:

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO US?!" cried Crymsaria, her voice an explosion of embers and shame.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE?!" shouted Nivara, her tone cold and cutting, but full of despair.

Vergil, standing among the spider lilies, his hands still at his sides, looked at them with an unusual coldness. There was something dead in his gaze—not weakness, but disinterest.

And he replied dryly: Content presented by MV|LEMP|YR.

"If I knew... why, in the name of any deity, would I tell two idiots who ruined everything?"

Silence.

The ground shook more with that simple insult than with the previous gravitational force.

Crymsaria froze in place. Nivara swallowed hard. The two looked at each other, as if they had heard something unthinkable.

No one... had ever... dared to call them idiots.

Much less a man.

For a moment, their eyes no longer expressed anger, but genuine shock. As if the insult had struck something deeper than any spell, deeper than any blade. A raw and simple truth they had never faced before.

"...Idiots...?" whispered Nivara, as if testing the sound of the word.

"He... called us... idiots...?" repeated Crymsaria, unable to believe what she was hearing.

There was a kind of disconcerting tension between them. But then, slowly, both began to change. The draconic forms broke apart into fragments of flame and ice, and the two returned to humanoid form: Crymsaria with hair as long as living embers, dressed in ornate red robes; Nivara with skin as pale as snow, with icy eyes and serene features, but now contorted with anger.

"You have the nerve," Crymsaria began, approaching with heavy steps, "to call us that after everything you've been through because of us?"

"Idiots?" Nivara said, more restrained, but with a hint of venom. "We were fighting and-"

"Shut up," Vergil said as his demonic aura increased in the room. "It seems you don't understand," he said as he grew more and more nervous.

"I don't know what the fuck happened, but if you're here, it means that something shit involving my body happened, so shut up because it's totally your fault, you two retards who wanted to kill yourselves," he said, hurling insults.

"You, I don't know who you are, but I'm going to kill you." Nivara said nervously

as she clenched her fists.

Her demonic aura grew like a black tide. Every word she said seemed carved in stone, a direct cut into the flesh of reality.

"Shut up," he said in a deep voice, his eyes fixed on them. "Both of you. Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

Crymsaria took a step forward, about to retort, but hesitated when she saw his expression.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" he continued, his voice growing louder. "Any idea of the cosmic shit you've caused?"

Nivara snorted sarcastically, crossing her arms.

"Don't blame us for—"

"Shut up! I didn't give you permission to speak," he roared, the ground shaking around him.

"You wanted to destroy yourselves. Two divine children with the power to wipe out galaxies playing at eternal death! And for what? For pride? For stupid wounds?" His voice grew heavier. "You wanted to die? Really die? Fine! Kill yourselves! But not in my soul."

Crymsaria's eyes widened in surprise at the intensity.

Vergil took two steps forward, his hands now trembling not with fear, but with pent-up frustration.

"And now you're here, fused with me, trapped inside me, and you want to continue acting like you're the queens of the universe? You two dragged me into this! I didn't even have a choice! So shut up and think for a second about what you've done, because I don't know what the hell happened. I blacked out. I woke up here. And you..." he pointed, his finger almost shaking with rage, "you were turning my soul into a battlefield."

There was a moment of silence. The tension seemed to begin to dissolve... until Nivara smiled. A thin smile. Almost cruel.

"Hmph. Do you really think you can give us orders now? That because we are... 'in you,' you own all of this? That you're in charge of me?" She took a step forward, her gaze sharp as an ice blade. "Then tell me... what would you do if I decided to go out and... kill every woman I felt close to you? One by one. Slowly. Just to see what happens to your precious control?"

The world stopped.

Vergil didn't say a word.

He simply disappeared from the spot — and reappeared in front of her with a single movement.

SLAP!

The sound of the slap echoed across the field of spider lilies like an explosion. It was sharp, violent, relentless.

Nivara's face turned with the impact. Her body was thrown to the side, staggering two steps before coming to a stop. The sound was so absolute that even Crymsaria instinctively recoiled, her eyes wide.

The mark of his hand was clear on the translucent skin of the glacial empress's face—five fingers red as burning embers against the pure white of the snow.

Vergil was motionless.

His eyes were black as abysses. His voice came out cold, empty of emotion:

"Try it. Just one more time. Mention any of them. With that filthy mouth of yours."

"And I won't hit you. I'll break you. I'll crush you with everything I have, Nivara. Soul by soul. Piece by piece. Do you understand?"

Nivara stared at him, stunned. Not from pain — but from humiliation. For the first time, she didn't seem to know how to react. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Crymsaria brought her hand to her lips in an involuntary gesture.

Vergil slowly turned his face toward her as well. "And you. Don't think you're off the hook. You two are responsible. Two idiots with too much power and not enough brains."

The silence now was like a glass dome. No sound, no wind. Not even the lilies moved.

Vergil let out a sigh—not of exhaustion, but of fury that had found an outlet.

"If you want to continue existing inside me, then learn quickly: here, you are no longer goddesses."

"You are my shadow. My part. You obey me. You are mine. Or you disappear."

He turned his back.

"Now stay there and think. And if you are ashamed enough, learn to keep quiet."

And then, without another word, he walked through the lilies.

Fenrhaem watched, his steel eyes calm as ever. Itharine, her arms crossed, looked relieved and worried at the same time.

Behind her, Nivara stood still, touching her face with her fingertips, trembling—not from the cold, but from something new: fear.

And Crymsaria... lowered her gaze. For the first time in millennia, she had no ready answer.

"The Master is scary when he's angry..." Itharine thought, "Mental note: never anger the Master."