My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 597

597: Preparations Done!

597: Preparations Done!

The Great Hall of Erebus, built in the depths of the underworld, was never merely a space-it was a statement.A living reminder that even amidst the darkness, elegance and power could coexist with an almost menacing perfection.

The structure rose like a palace molded by night.

The columns were of polished black marble, bathed in threads of gold that ran like living veins towards the vaulted ceiling.

Crystal chandeliers and ethereal fire hung in the air, casting light upon the mirrored floor, where every step seemed to echo for centuries.

On the walls, richly woven tapestries narrated stories of lost kingdoms, divine pacts, and forgotten wars.The sound of violins-soft, yet melancholic-filled the air, played by specters of musicians who seemed to exist only by the will of Hades himself.

It was a setting worthy of the gatherings of ancient high society-the kind of place where every gesture, every word, was a weapon disguised as courtesy.And, ironically, it was there that the gods of Heaven and the Underworld would meet.

Among the preparations, pacing back and forth with visible impatience, was Brynhildr, one of Odin’s Valkyries.

Tall, with impeccable posture and eyes sharp as a blade, she seemed out of place in that environment of crystals and rare perfumes.

Her light armor, in shades of silver and blue, contrasted with the formal attire of the underworld servants, who moved hurriedly to complete the final details.

“By Yggdrasil, this is absurd…” she muttered, crossing her arms as she watched a line of succubi hanging golden garlands.

“A Valkyrie… organizing a party.” One of the infernal stewards, a being with golden eyes and discreet fangs, bowed politely.”It’s not a party, Lady Brynhildr.

It’s a diplomatic meeting.”She turned her gaze to him, coldly.”Call it what you want,” she took a step forward, the metallic sound of her boots echoing.

“Even so, it’s still a waste of time.” The demon forced a nervous smile, not daring to answer.

Brynhildr looked around, analyzing the hall with the skepticism of a warrior who had never learned to appreciate subtleties.Everything there was excessive: the crimson curtains falling like cascades of blood, the trays of pure gold, the floating mirrors that reflected distorted images of the preparations.An exaggeration worthy of the hosts-and that’s what bothered her.

“Hades and Persephone…” she murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Of all the gods, they had to be the hosts.” A pale elf, with hair as white as the moon, hurried past her carrying a goblet with a slightly steaming violet liquid.Brynhildr stopped him with a quick gesture.”What is that?” “Lotus Nectar, Lady.

Persephone requested that it be served to the main guests.” “And what exactly does it do?” The elf swallowed hard.”It calms the nerves… and soothes the emotions.” Brynhildr let out a dry laugh.”Of course.

Perfect for a hall full of gods with centuries of unresolved feuds.” She continued walking, her long golden hair swaying behind her like a moving banner.Wherever she passed, the servants straightened up, fearing her gaze as much as that of their own masters.

The Valkyrie stopped before the main staircase-a construction of dark marble flanked by statues of female figures that seemed to observe everything with living eyes.At the top, two thrones awaited.

One, made of polished bones and silver, adorned with rubies and small chains that seemed to move on their own.The other, alive-literally-formed from golden roots and flowers that exuded a sweet and deadly perfume.Hades’ throne.

Persephone’s throne.

Brynhildr snorted, crossing her arms again.”What a wonderful combination…” she said ironically.

“Death and spring, side by side.” A feminine voice echoed near her, cold and melodious:”That’s why it works.” Brynhildr turned, finding a woman of severe and elegant beauty.

Fair skin, black hair tied in long braids, gray silk robes.

A nymph of Persephone, one of the oldest.

“It works?” the Valkyrie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” the nymph replied serenely.

“Because one cannot exist without the other.

Persephone brings the blossoming…

and Hades, the rest.

The balance is what makes this place stable.” Brynhildr gave a short laugh.”You call it balance, I call it irony.” She turned back to the hall, watching the chandeliers light up in golden tones, as if imitating the sunset.For an instant, even she had to admit-there was beauty there.

A cold, but powerful beauty.

Even so, the idea of dealing with gods from different pantheons, all in the same space, was an invitation to chaos.She knew that better than anyone.

The memories of the last “peaceful” meetings between deities still burned in the minds of the elders.Ares and Shiva had already exchanged blows before dessert.Amaterasu had been offended by the excessive brightness of Zeus’s hall.And Hermes… well, Hermes always found a way to steal something.

Brynhildr sighed and tightened her grip on the spear she carried on her back.”I’d rather be slaying demons in Alfheim than serving wine to bored gods.” Behind her, a light laugh echoed.”And yet, Odin chose you.

It must be because you’re the only one who can intimidate a god without raising a weapon.” Brynhildr recognized the voice – Hermes, always appearing when no one called him.He was leaning against one of the columns, elegant in a gray suit that contrasted with the golden gleam of his wings.

“If you came to mock, choose another target, messenger,” she replied without looking.

“I wouldn’t mock someone who’s keeping this meeting of divine egos together,” he said, amused.

“They say even Ares was afraid to complain about the place after you silenced a succubus with a look.” Brynhildr gave him a wry smile.”He learned quickly.” Hermes laughed.”That’s good.

You may need to repeat the lesson.

The guests are starting to arrive soon.” Brynhildr took a deep breath, straightening her body.Outside, the distant sound of trumpets resonated, marking the beginning of the arrival of the divine chariots.The doors of the Great Hall slowly opened, and the air was filled with perfumes, lights, and ancient presences.

“May Odin grant me patience…” she murmured, adjusting her cloak.

“Because if I lack it, I’ll have to compensate with violence.” Hermes laughed, already walking away.”A piece of advice, Valkyrie: smile.

Even if it seems like a threat-the gods love to pretend that everything is in harmony.” She rolled her eyes, but for a moment, a small, sharp smile escaped her lips.”Oh, don’t worry, messenger,” she said, lowering her voice.

“I know very well how to smile… especially before the war.” And so, the hall shone brightly as the first guests crossed the golden threshold.Gods, kings, and monsters-all masked by formality, all ready for the spectacle.

And in the center, Brynhildr watched, steadfast, knowing that behind the luxury and courtesies, the real feast would be one of intrigue.A celestial ball on the brink of chaos-and she, the Valkyrie in charge of keeping the gods well-behaved.

… [Paris.] The beating heart of the Earth, where luxury and decadence mingle with a divine naturalness-and perhaps that was why Aphrodite had chosen that place to call home since she abandoned Olympus.

The sky that morning was covered with pink clouds, reflecting the golden light of the rising sun on the stained-glass windows of one of the oldest buildings in the city.

Inside a high-ceilinged apartment, with arched windows and translucent curtains dancing in the wind, the goddess of love remained motionless before a table laden with letters, crystal glasses, and an oval mirror adorned with pearls.

The lightness of the environment contrasted with her gaze-serene on the outside, restless within.

Aphrodite was the very personification of timeless charm.

She wore a champagne-colored silk robe, the fabric flowing over her skin like liquid.

Her long, golden hair was loose, falling over her shoulders like a shimmering waterfall.

Even among mortals, she didn’t need to try to be noticed; but there, alone, the radiance she exuded seemed slightly dimmed-as if something was missing.

That’s when a faint metallic sound echoed across the table: the small silver mirror began to emit a bluish glow, and a message appeared on its surface, etched in lines of energy.

It was short, but enough to make her gasp: “That man, Hercules, seems to be coming to the event before the tournament.

Sapphire asked me to warn you.

I don’t understand why, but… Anyway, just a heads-up.” For a moment, the silence was absolute.

Aphrodite stared at those words, the reflection of her golden eyes shimmering in the mirror.

After centuries, his name echoed in her mind again-Hercules.

A name that carried weight, strength, and memories.

She slowly put down the cup she was holding, and a small, melancholic smile formed on her lips.

“Finally…” she murmured, almost to herself.

“So the great hero has decided to leave his exile.” Aphrodite moved away from the mirror, walking to the window.

Outside, Paris was waking up.

The cobblestone streets came alive with the distant sounds of cafes opening, and the scent of fresh flowers rose from the balconies.

For a moment, she remembered another time-when she walked among mortals not as an exile, but as a revered goddess.

When love was still something pure, and not a weapon or a currency.

Leaving Olympus hadn’t been an easy choice, but it was inevitable.

She had endured too many wars, betrayals, and manipulations from Zeus and the other gods.

And when Hercules-the most loyal of Olympus’s sons-decided to abandon it too, something inside her changed.

At first, she didn’t understand.

How could the ultimate symbol of divine glory simply turn his back on everything he had fought to represent?

But, with time, she began to understand.

Deep down, she knew he had grown weary-not of the fight, but of the corruption behind it.

And now, Vergil said he would return.

Aphrodite turned to the mirror, touching it with her fingertips.

The blue glow disappeared, but the feeling of anticipation remained.

“Hercules,” she whispered.

“I want to talk to you…”