My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 610

Chapter 610: Puppy getting beaten

The sound of divine steel resonated in the air—a thin, almost musical echo that contrasted violently with Cerberus’s savage roars.

Vergil twirled Yamato between his fingers with the lightness of someone handling a feather, not a sword capable of splitting realities. The blade’s reflection captured the flames, lightning, and ice of the beast, and for an instant, it seemed as if hell itself was dancing to the rhythm of his movements.

“Come, dog,” he said, tilting his head slightly, a provocative smile growing on his face. “Show me those guardian fangs.”

Cerberus needed no further invitation.

The ground exploded beneath its paws as it leaped forward. A jump that made the entire arena tremble, scattering a shower of embers and rock fragments. The central head spat a torrent of flames, while the right head roared, firing a bolt of lightning that tore through the air in a golden flash.

Vergil vanished.

The attack hit the ground and destroyed half the arena—the explosion created a crater of fire and dust. Fragments of stone and metal flew high into the air, but before they fell, the space was cut in silence.

A metallic sound echoed from behind the creature.

Vergil reappeared, calmly, resting Yamato on his shoulder.

“Heavy, noisy, and predictable. Just like a poorly trained guard dog.”

A cut flashed through the air—subtle, almost imperceptible—and one of the chains of energy binding Cerberus’s heads dissolved into dust. The beast howled with rage, spinning its colossal body. The movement was so brutal that the ground sank beneath its paws.

The left head—the ice one—growled and, with a breath, covered the field with a sudden blizzard. Each snowflake was like a frozen blade, sharp enough to cut steel. Vergil crossed Yamato in front of his body and advanced straight into the glacial hurricane.

A single movement.

The world seemed to stop.

The icy gale was split in two directions, as if the storm itself had been cut in half. The ground behind Vergil was scarred with a perfect line of destruction. He passed through the attack, unscathed, his coat billowing with the force of the wind, his gaze unwavering.

Cerberus tried to anticipate. The other heads acted in unison—one unleashed lightning bolts in the shape of spears, the other opened its mouth to spit a flaming torrent.

Vergil spun Yamato horizontally and, with a slight smile, murmured, “Dismantle.”

The cut flashed.

The thunder spears shattered before the sound of the lightning even arrived.

The fire, upon touching him, was divided into lines that dissipated like dust.

“Faster,” he taunted. “You still haven’t convinced me.”

Laughter echoed through the arena—an unbearably calm sound amidst the chaos. The gods in the stands watched in silence.

Shiva, with four arms crossed, spoke in a low voice: “What an interesting body… using energy projection on the blade to unleash more effective invisible cuts.”

Wukong cackled, kicking the air.

“This demon is a lunatic! Look at that! He’s cutting elements!”

Hades kept his gaze fixed on the arena, expressionless, but there was something there—a faint glimmer of contained admiration.

Yama, observing from above, murmured:

“And they still say that mortals cannot touch the power of the gods… He not only touches it. He mutilates it.”

Cerberus roared—now in genuine fury.

The three heads aligned and began to gather energy. Tongues of fire, electrical sparks, and freezing mists merged into a colossal vortex in the center of their mouths.

Vergil tilted his head slightly.

“Ah… so now it’s serious.”

The air trembled.

Cerberus’s triple attack exploded, creating a wave of pure destruction. It was an impossible combination—fire, ice, and thunder fusing into a single prismatic explosion. The impact made space contort; the stands vibrated, and even some gods instinctively shielded themselves.

Hela narrowed her eyes, watching. “If he misses, he’ll be pulverized.”

The light completely engulfed Vergil.

For long seconds, nothing was visible—only a white flash covering everything. Sound disappeared, time seemed to pause.

Then, the flash parted.

Vergil was in the air, above the wave, gliding over a rift he himself had created with Yamato. His cloak moved like a wing made of fire and shadow, and a trail of bluish energy marked his path.

He descended in a perfect spin, cutting the attack in half.

The explosion split in two directions, rising into the sky like columns of fire and ice. The impact reverberated to the horizon.

Vergil landed on his knees, spun Yamato, and sheathed it with a snap.

An instant later, the energy he had accumulated was released in a silent boom.

Cerberus recoiled.

Two of the heads had deep cuts, one of them bleeding golden flames.

“You’re still standing,” Vergil murmured, wiping a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Resilient. That’s good. It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun.”

The beast responded with a roar that shook the air. Its aura expanded, covering the arena in living darkness. Cerberus’s energy was ancient—not just destructive, but instinctive, primal. The power of a being born from the will of death.

Vergil’s eyes shone brighter.

The smile vanished.

“Alright…” he said, lowering Yamato and flexing his hands. “No mercy, then.”

Fire and wind began to swirl around his body again. But this time, something had changed. His blood—the demonic essence—burned, mixing with the darkness. The ground cracked beneath his feet.

What emanated from Vergil was no longer just power.

It was dominion.

The space around him warped, and a gigantic form began to emerge behind him—the outline of a dragon made of black flames and crimson wind. The ethereal roar echoed like an ancestral memory.

Shiva stood up.

“He’s… manifesting his soul.”

Ada covered her mouth, frightened and fascinated.

Hela simply smiled.

“Finally, you’ve stopped playing around.”

Cerberus responded in kind.

Its three heads glowed simultaneously, and its energy exploded. The ground melted, and the air became dense as lead.

The arena no longer looked like a battlefield—it was a divine nightmare, where fire, ice, and thunder intertwined, molding the very air into pure destruction.

Vergil advanced.

The sound of the cut was inaudible—an instant of absolute silence before the devastation.

He crossed the field, and the fire dragon that accompanied him followed, roaring in unison. Cerberus attacked simultaneously, opening all three mouths, spitting out its fury.

The impact was apocalyptic.

An explosion of pure energy engulfed everything. Flames reached the heavens, thunder shook the earth, and ice cracked the air. The light was so intense that many of the spectators looked away.

When the smoke began to dissipate, two silhouettes were still standing.

Vergil, breathing slowly, his coat torn in several places, blood dripping from a cut on his shoulder—and Cerberus, kneeling, its three heads panting, eyes half-closed.

The ground around them was destroyed. No trace of the original arena remained; only craters, fissures, and liquid fire flowing from the edges.

Vergil ran a hand across his face, wiping away the blood, and smiled again.

“You’re tougher than I expected. That’s good. I almost…” he chuckled—a low, hoarse, sincere sound—”…almost had to put in some effort.”

Cerberus tried to stand up. One of the heads roared, but the sound failed—a hoarse, tired noise.

Vergil took a step forward and unsheathed Yamato once more.

“But I think that’s enough, guardian. Your job is done.”

One last cut.

It was too fast to be seen, only felt—like the movement of time itself being interrupted.

When he sheathed the sword again, Cerberus’s central head stopped in mid-air, frozen… and then, slowly, fell, dissolving into black smoke before touching the ground.

The other two bowed, howling softly, in submission.

Vergil stood there, motionless, his gaze fixed on the beast kneeling before him.

“It wasn’t a punishment,” he said calmly. “It was a reminder. Of who I am.”

Silence.

Not even the wind dared to move.

Hades rose from his throne, observing the scene.

His expression was unreadable—something between respect and discomfort.

“Then it is done,” he finally said, his deep voice echoing through the arena. “The test has been completed. And Erebus acknowledges your strength, Demon King.”

Vergil looked at him and gave a slight smile.

“I hope next time you choose an opponent with a little more stamina.”

Wukong laughed loudly. “That son of a bitch is crazy! What the hell was that!”

Shiva simply closed his eyes, as if engraving a lesson in stone.

Hela, from afar, crossed her arms and murmured something that only Ada heard:

“And to think he hasn’t even fought seriously yet.”

The flames around the arena began to die down.

Erebus slowly returned to what it was—the gloomy temple, the heavy air, the silence of souls.

Vergil sheathed Yamato, looked at the charred ground, and let out a short laugh.

“Chaos impossible to deny,” he repeated, remembering his own words. “I think I succeeded.”

Cerberus, wounded but alive, lowered its head before him.

For an instant—a brief and almost imperceptible instant—it seemed that even the guardian of the underworld recognized him.

And above, in the stands, no god dared to make a joke.

They had all understood.

Vergil wasn’t just a demon with a sword.

He was a calamity dressed as a man.

“Looks like I scared you,” Vergil said, laughing. “I’ll see you at the tournament, my dear competitors.” He spoke and bowed, disappearing and reappearing beside Ada.

“Let’s go, they probably want to kill me now.” Vergil said smiling but felt something on his arm. He looked… “What the hell… I used too much energy…” he said, seeing his hand trembling and small wounds from the pressure of holding Yamato.