My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 608

Chapter 608: Don’t worry, I accept the punishment.
The silence that followed was almost physical.

Dense. Cutting.

Vergil’s words hung in the air like obsidian blades—sharp, cold, and impossible to ignore.

None of those present dared to breathe for a moment. Even the souls trapped in the walls of Erebus—the same ones that had previously murmured Hades’ name—now seemed silent, watching.

The tension crackled.

Hermes was the first to react.

“Arrogant to the end, huh?” he said, wiping the blood from his lip, his gaze flashing with provocation. “You speak as if you weren’t on divine ground, mortal. Do you really think your flames can protect you from the wrath of the heavens?”

Vergil slowly turned his face towards him, his crimson eyes flashing with a calm that was worse than any fury.

“Do you want to test it? As far as I know, the flame of Olympus is no longer the possession of your pantheon, do you really want to talk about flames that can protect?”

The tone was low, but enough to make the messenger’s silver wings involuntarily retract.

Hermes opened his mouth to reply, but another voice interrupted him—deep, resonant, full of ancient power.

“Enough.” Shiva had spoken.

His presence expanded, silently, and the air seemed to vibrate between the god’s four arms, which now slowly crossed in a gesture of authority.

“He did not lie. Dionysus provoked. The result was a direct consequence of his own arrogance. There is no just punishment when the offense first comes from the one who considers himself untouchable.”

Susanoo, who was watching leaning against a broken column, let out a hoarse laugh. “Finally someone said the obvious. The drunkard got what he deserved. If it were me, I would have done worse.”

The nearby Olympian gods reacted in silence, their faces rigid, some filled with indignation, others with something close to discomfort. Wukong, casually swaying on his golden cloud above the hall, merely yawned.

“I already warned you. It’s not his fault if the idiot chose to play with fire and ended up becoming divine barbecue.”

Hermes gritted his teeth. “Are you all just going to ignore this? He murdered an Olympian god within Hades’ domain!”

“Murdered?” Wukong’s laughter echoed, amused. “Really, big mouth? He just undid a temporary mistake. Gods don’t die, remember? You’re reborn, you multiply, you consider yourselves eternal. So what are you complaining about? He just gave you a practical reminder of mortality.”

Hercules lowered his head. He didn’t dare contradict him.

He knew, deep down, that the celestial monkey was right.

Yama, still leaning against the balcony, watched in silence. Her smile had vanished, replaced by an indecipherable expression. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, but carried a weight that made even the flames of Erebus flicker.

“So that’s it? The council of deities now bows to the logic of a demon?”

Shiva slowly turned his head towards her.

“It’s not a matter of bowing, Yama. It’s a matter of justice.”

She tilted her head, resting her chin on her hand.

“Justice…” she repeated, almost as if savoring the word. “Curious to hear that from a destroyer.”

Before anyone else could speak, Hades raised one hand.

The gesture was minimal—but it was enough to silence everything.

The air only moved again around him, the shadows molding themselves to each word.

“Enough of the discussions.”

He looked at Vergil.

“Your words have logic, and your action—though impulsive—was a response to an affront. There is no law, in this or any realm, that condemns a mortal for defending what he loves.” Virgil lowered his head slightly, in respect.

But then, from the balcony above, Yama spoke again. This time, her voice sounded like a judgment.

“There is no law that condemns him…” she paused, and her eyes again shone in shifting shades of gold and red. “…but there is balance.”

Virgil looked up, staring at her.

“Balance?”

Yama straightened her posture. The entire hall seemed to darken slightly.

“When a god falls at the hands of an inferior being, something must be given in return. It is the ancient rule, older than the gods themselves. The demons and mortals who interfere with the divine balance… must lose something.”

Ada, still shaken, took a step forward.

“He only defended me!” — her voice wavered, but the tone was firm. — “Dionysus tried—”

“I know,” Yama interrupted, with a gentle but cold gesture. “And that is precisely why he will not be destroyed.”

Yama’s eyes fixed on Vergil again. Her voice echoed like the distant sound of funeral bells:

“Even the kings of hell must pay the price when they violate the natural order.”

Silence reigned for an instant… until a soft voice, yet laden with authority, cut through the air.

“I disagree.”

Everyone turned.

The woman stood in the shadows—elegant, motionless, like a statue that breathed darkness. The temperature dropped once more, and even the fire of Erebus seemed to hesitate before her.

Vergil looked up, and a rare smile curved his lips.

“I expected to find you at a more… favorable moment.”

The woman inclined her head, the dark veil moving like living smoke.

“And yet, here we are, Demon King.”

Hela.

The ruler of Helheim.

The Shadow of the North.

Her gaze swept across the hall until it met Yama’s. An enigmatic smile—cold, yet courteous—formed on her lips.

“You seem to have forgotten how hierarchy works, ill-tempered little girl.”

The words weren’t shouted.

They were declared.

And their weight spread through the hall like an invisible wave of power.

Yama straightened, the gleam in her eyes flickering between gold and crimson. The flames around her reacted, rising as if reflecting her contained anger.

“Enlighten me with your lack of understanding, Hela.”

Hela took a step forward. Each step caused the marble beneath her feet to freeze into fragments of black ice.

“Enlighten?” she let out a soft, joyless laugh. “No, my dear. I enlighten nothing.”

The entire hall fell silent.

Hela raised her gaze to Yama and then turned back to Vergil. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper that carried the weight of a hundred thousand condemned souls:

“Dionysus… a low-ranking god. No throne, no dominion, no legacy. An Olympian parasite sustained by the faith of the weak. And yet, you speak of punishment?”

She raised her hand, and an emerald-green aura spread behind her like an ethereal veil, revealing the outline of a throne made of ice and bones.

“While this man…” she pointed to Vergil, and the air trembled “is one of the Kings of Biblical Hell. Bearer of the title of Lucifer. One of the pillars of the balance between light and darkness in your dimension.”

Hela’s eyes gleamed intensely, and the shadow of a raven crossed the ceiling, tearing through the darkness.

“Do you truly dare to put an insolent drunkard on the same level as an infernal sovereign?”

The words sounded like steel being forged.

“The Demon Kings and the Archons are the axis that keeps the underworld stable. Without them, not even your dead would have anywhere to go. And yet, you speak of balance?”

Her gaze returned to Yama, sharp as a blade.

“A King does not bow to a drunken wretch, Yama. And much less to a judge who has forgotten her own position in the divine hierarchy.”

The silence that followed was almost palpable.

Vergil remained silent for a few seconds, his gaze shifting between Hela and Yama. The hall still trembled slightly—not from destruction, but from the sheer presence of the two rulers of the underworld.

Then he laughed.

It was a short, dry laugh, laden with irony and self-confidence.

A sound that broke the tension and made several deities look at each other, confused—as if the demon were mocking the situation itself.

Vergil ran a hand through his hair, still letting out an amused sigh. “Defended by Hela, huh… I think I can die in peace now—again.”

Hela raised an eyebrow, her smile almost imperceptible.

“Don’t get used to it, Demon King. I just hate seeing someone trying to dictate the rules of hell without understanding how it works.”

Vergil slightly inclined his head in thanks—respectful, but with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Fair enough. But since the subject is punishment…”

He took a step forward, and the demonic energy expanded again, swirling around him like a living mist.

“…I accept.”

The murmur was immediate.

Hercules stared at him, surprised. Shiva merely observed, curious. Even Yama seemed to frown for a moment, uncertain whether Vergil was serious or mocking.

“You… accept?” she repeated, her tone suspicious.

Vergil smiled—a smile that bordered on defiance.

“Of course. Every crime needs punishment, right? So…”

He extended his hand and pointed to the back of the hall—to the shadows where something enormous moved. Chains rattled, and a subterranean roar echoed.

Cerberus.

The three-headed guardian dog of Erebus, its fangs bound in adamantine chains and ancient runes. Its eyes burned like live coals, and each breath made the ground vibrate.

“I’d love to fight that little dog,” Vergil said, with a lazy, provocative smile. “After all, he’s been quite insolent towards me since I arrived.”

The monster’s three heads rose simultaneously, their eyes gleaming with pure contempt.

A low growl reverberated through the walls—followed by another, and another.

Then, a trio of colossal barks exploded into the air, each echoing like thunder.

The sound was almost a reply: “Come on, you bastard.”

Vergil’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with pure exhilaration.

“Ah… I like opponents with personality.”

Hades, for the first time, allowed himself a discreet half-smile.

“You certainly have courage… or stupidity, I haven’t decided which yet.”

“Both,” Vergil replied, slowly spinning Yamato between his fingers, the air around him trembling with the sound of steel. “But if I’m going to pay a price, it might as well be with style.”

The chains binding Cerberus began to break, one by one, clanging like war bells.

The roar that followed was the kind of sound that made even the shadows recoil.

“Alright. If that’s what you want.” Hades, who had been silent, spoke.