My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 604

Chapter 604: Perfect Timing
The hall teemed with colossal presences, each emanating a unique aura—some vibrant, others so silent that the air seemed to bend around them. Erebus, illuminated by black torches and ethereal lamps suspended by golden chains, vibrated with an unsettling harmony: the calm before the inevitable chaos.

Vergil walked among the tables and columns with the relaxed gait of someone who seemed completely oblivious to the weight of the divine gazes upon him. Ada followed closely, visibly more cautious, observing the figures that stood out in the hall.

“Well… it seems everyone here takes this quite seriously,” Vergil commented with a half-smile, his eyes scanning the room.

“Perhaps because it is serious,” Ada replied, crossing her arms. “You’re not in a tavern, but in a hall full of gods and chosen champions. So, maybe, just maybe, don’t provoke anyone today.”

Vergil glanced at her sideways, his smile widening. “Me? Provoke? You’re confusing me with someone else.”

“You are that person,” Ada retorted without hesitation.

He chuckled softly, neither denying nor confirming. His eyes, however, were sharp, absorbing every detail—the weapons, the gestures, the postures. There was a silent game being played there, between powers and intentions.

To his left, two giants exchanged words in an ancient language, their bodies covered in armor made of dragon bones. To the right, a pair of fallen angels argued about who would have the honor of representing the Celestial Order.

Further ahead, Hindu gods exchanged greetings with spiritual samurai, and even a pair of Norse entities—a tall woman with golden braids and a one-eyed warrior—spoke in low tones, observing the surroundings with icy patience.

Ada sighed. “I see warriors, I see weapons, I see egos… but I don’t see anything remarkable.” Vergil was about to answer when he suddenly stopped. The smile vanished, replaced by a slight frown.

“Wait a minute…” he murmured.

She looked at him, confused. “What is it?”

“Two presences,” he replied, slowly turning his face, as if feeling the weight of a déjà vu. “Very familiar.”

Ada followed his gaze. In the middle of the crowd, two figures stood out—not because of their size, but because of their energy. One was pure calm, like the surface of a lake on a windless night; the other, a whirlwind about to break loose.

Before she could ask who they were, a firm and serene voice echoed behind them.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Vergil?”

The man approaching was young, but the power emanating from him left no doubt that he was not human. He wore a white robe with gold trim, his light brown hair pulled back in a low bun. On his back, a long staff, wrapped in blue ribbons, gleamed discreetly in the light of the hall.

Vergil turned, and a genuine smile bloomed on his face. “Wu Tian.”

The name carried weight.

Ada blinked, surprised. “Wu Tian? The Monkey King’s disciple?”

“In flesh, bone, and partial enlightenment,” replied Wu Tian, ​​smiling slightly.

Vergil chuckled softly. “The last time we met, I almost killed you.”

“Almost,” Wu Tian corrected, politely but firmly. “It was a draw, if you recall.”

“A draw, huh?” Vergil crossed his arms, the challenging smile returning. “Do you still think that toy staff would stop me?”

Wu Tian tilted his head, a tranquil gleam in his eyes. “Back then, perhaps not. But today…” — he reached for the hilt of the staff — “my mastery is different. Wukong trained me beyond mere strength. Now, the staff and I are one.” “Interesting,” Vergil said, with a slight hint of provocation. “So you’re still trying to be him.”

Ada shot him a warning glance. “Vergil…”

Wu Tian, ​​however, simply smiled. “No. I’m trying to be myself. The staff is just the means.”

There was a brief silence, only interrupted by the distant murmur of conversations and the muffled growl of Cerberus, chained in golden chains near the entrance.

Vergil observed him for a moment, and then relaxed his body, smiling again. “Good to see you’ve grown. Really. But if you’re going to fight me in this tournament, I recommend you don’t get your hopes up too high.”

Wu Tian raised an eyebrow. “Hopes?”

“Yes,” Vergil replied. “So far, aside from Shiva’s children, I haven’t found anyone who really makes me want to fight with everything I’ve got.”

The answer fell like a blade in the air—calm, but sharp.

Wu Tian let out a short laugh. “You talk like someone who’s tired of winning.”

“Maybe I am,” Vergil said, looking around. “Or maybe I’m waiting for something that’s worth the effort.”

Wu Tian nodded slowly, understanding more than he let on. “Then I hope to give you that reason when the time comes.”

Ada watched them, torn between tension and mutual respect. There was something in that exchange—a connection between warriors who had tested each other to the limit.

Vergil stepped forward and extended his hand. Wu Tian looked at it for a second and then shook it firmly.

“No hard feelings from last time?” Vergil asked.

“Not at all,” the monk replied, smiling. “But next time, don’t expect a draw.”

“That’s what I expect to hear.”

They released each other, and for a moment the hall seemed to breathe with them.

Wu Tian moved away, walking towards a group of Eastern deities, greeting them with the calm of a disciple who knows his place. Vergil followed him with his gaze, a slight smile on his face.

“You liked him,” Ada said, almost as a statement of fact.

“He has the soul of a warrior,” Vergil replied. “He doesn’t fight for glory, nor for hatred. He fights because he needs to understand something that even he doesn’t know what it is.”

Ada looked at him sideways. “And you?”

“Me?” Vergil smiled. “I fight because I enjoy it.”

She sighed. “Of course you do.”

As they spoke, the surrounding environment subtly changed. The lights flickered, the air seemed to grow heavy. Previously scattered conversations gradually silenced. The vibrations of Erebus reacted to something—perhaps the approach of more divine presences, or the mere remembrance of what was to come.

From a distance, Vergil noticed two figures approaching—figures he didn’t yet recognize, but who exuded power. One carried a sword whose blade seemed made of pure liquid crystal; the other wore living armor that breathed with his body.

Ada followed his gaze, and even without understanding what she felt, she knew that those two presences were not ordinary. There was something… different. As if the air had become electric just by their presence.

“Are they going to compete too?” she asked.

“Probably,” Vergil replied, his eyes fixed. “But they’re not from here. Neither of them belongs to this plane.”

“Do you feel it?”

“I feel everything,” he murmured, a cold glint in his eyes. “And something tells me the fun is about to begin.”

Ada was about to reply, but a distant sound cut through the air—the echo of celestial trumpets coming from the upper gates, different from the previous ones. A new group of entities was arriving, and murmurs spread like wildfire.

Vergil smiled wryly. “More guests. I hope they bring something interesting.”

“You talk as if you’re about to go hunting,” Ada said, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe I am,” he replied, looking at Hades’ throne in the distance. “But for now, it’s just observation. I haven’t decided who deserves my attention yet.”

She shook her head, but she knew him too well to believe that. Vergil was always analyzing, always charting invisible routes, testing presences and forces around him.

The hall filled with voices again, but the energy there had changed. It was as if every breath, every glance, now carried a small fragment of expectation—everyone knew that this tournament wouldn’t be like the previous ones. Something was moving behind the scenes of the cosmos.

Vergil put his hands in his pockets and gave a final look at Wu Tian, ​​who was now talking to a group of celestial monks. Then he looked at Ada, the smile returning.

“Come on, love. Before the real feast begins.”

“Where to?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Wherever it seems dangerous,” he replied lightly. “Those places always hide what really matters in the shadows.”

She followed him, reluctantly, but without saying anything more. The sound of her footsteps echoed across the black stones while, above them, bluish torches lit themselves – as if Erebus himself were watching every movement.

Ada excused herself, lightly touching Vergil’s arm.

“I’m going to the restroom. Don’t cause any trouble while I’m gone,” she said, in a tone between a warning and a request.

Vergil raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

“Me? Never.”

She snorted, already walking away, and he watched the sway of her dress until she disappeared between the columns of the hall. Then he sighed, shifting his gaze to the golden staircase that led to the second floor.

The second level of Erebus was different. While the lower floor vibrated with energy and murmurs, here reigned the heavy silence of those who could destroy worlds with just a word. The air was denser, the marble floor reflected the bluish lights of the hall below, and the distant sound of trumpets was muffled – as if even hell itself respected that floor.

Most of the gods watched from above, talking in small groups, exchanging glances and silent judgments. But one of them was apart from the rest, leaning against the balcony, observing the hall from above with an air of absolute boredom.

Vergil noticed her immediately. The posture was too casual, the gaze too distant. The golden armor covered by a dark cloak hid almost everything, but the bearing… and the way the body remained balanced effortlessly… gave her away.

From afar, she looked like Odin. The cloak, the helmet, the spear resting on the railing. But Vergil knew that kind of disguise — and, especially, that energy.

He approached slowly, his boots echoing softly against the marble. The “figure” didn’t turn around.

“Beautiful view,” Vergil commented, stopping beside her. “But a little morbid for someone pretending to be the King of Olympus.”

The figure sighed. The voice was low, slightly hoarse.

“You’ve always been terrible with subtleties, Vergil.”

Vergil laughed. “Ah, so I was right.” He leaned against the balcony, shoulders relaxed, and looked sideways, his smile growing. “When I said we’d see each other again, it wasn’t supposed to be so soon, you know? Brynhildr.”

She slowly turned her face, the disguise dissolving like smoke. The golden runes around her body glowed before fading, revealing her true form.

Brynhildr sighed, crossing her arms.

“You have the worst timing in the world.”

“And the best nose,” Vergil replied. “Odin would never wear such a poorly made disguise.”

“I didn’t have much time to refine it,” she retorted, without emotion. “And, honestly, nobody here is smart enough to notice.”

Vergil raised an eyebrow. “Except me. And the gods, I think they all already know you’re not Odin. Anyway, it’s good to see you again.”

“Congratulations, you’re the first mortal to see through my disguise.” She looked at him sideways, her eyes shining under the blue light. “Why do I feel like this isn’t a coincidence?” “I don’t know, I just deduced it. After all, for a god to have no aura at all is quite strange, right?” He gave a slight smile, looking down at the hall below. “And because usually, when I meet an interesting woman, I think about her quite a lot.”

Brynhildr looked away, her lips curving into an almost imperceptible smile.

“Are you courting me, Demon King?”

“I don’t know, do you want to be courted?”