My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 611

Chapter 611: A cowardly attack
Wukong’s laughter still echoed as the air crackled.

A deep, heavy hum filled Erebus—so dense that even the flames seemed to hesitate. The shadows around Vergil lengthened, and a sudden chill swept through the space.

Ada turned, her eyes wide. “Vergil… what is this?”

Before anyone could react, the attack came.

It wasn’t lightning, nor fire, nor ordinary magic. It was something worse.

A wave of dark energy—pure negation, the antithesis of existence.

It wasn’t coming toward Vergil.

It was seeking him out.

As if the universe itself wanted to extinguish him.

The sound of the impact was a muffled thunderclap.

Vergil instinctively spun Yamato, opening a rift of demonic energy to try and contain the attack, but he was already exhausted.

The blow struck him from the side, tearing his body from shoulder to abdomen.

The ground beneath his feet cracked. Blood gushed in thick, red gushes, evaporating as soon as it touched the hot soil. His suit was destroyed, hanging in tatters.

“VERGIL!” Ada screamed—a sound of pure despair.

He staggered a step back. His hand clutched the wound, blood trickling through his fingers.

His body trembled—not from fear, but from physical failure, from the collapse of the energy that sustained him.

“No…” he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost soundless. “This… isn’t possible.”

The energy around him still vibrated—alive, malevolent, pulsating.

A fragment of the attack pierced the ground and distorted space, as if Erebus himself bowed to the power that had been unleashed.

In the stands, chaos ensued.

Wukong fell silent, his eyes wide.

Hela jumped to her feet, her gaze icy.

Shiva clenched his fists, feeling the weight of that force.

Hades rose from his throne, his expression finally changing.

“What… is this?!”

Yama stepped forward, his face grim.

“This is not divine power… this is existential negation. An energy from outside this plane.”

Ada knelt beside Vergil, her hands trembling.

“Vergil! Look at me! HEY!”

She grabbed him, trying to staunch the bleeding with her own hands.

But the wound wouldn’t close.

The regeneration, the flame that had always burned within him, was dead.

Not even the infernal energy responded anymore.

Vergil breathed with difficulty. Each exhalation made the blood bubble between his teeth.

Even so… he laughed.

Low, hoarse, sarcastic.

“Heh… someone… finally… with the courage…” He coughed, blood staining his chin. “…to attack me from behind.”

Ada looked up, desperate, her eyes scanning the arena. “Who did this?! WHO WAS IT?!”

A laugh echoed amidst the echoes of chaos.

Deep. Deformed.

It was neither human nor divine.

The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, as if space itself mocked Vergil’s existence.

From atop the bony stands, the air buckled. Hades’ runes trembled, and a body descended slowly—sustained by chains of dark energy that twisted like serpents.

The figure landed before them with a dull thud, cracking the ground beneath its feet.

A man—or something close to it.

It had four arms, muscular and covered in incandescent markings. Four eyes, two golden and two black, which moved independently, observing everything with divine disdain. And two mouths—one on its face, which grinned arrogantly, and another… open at the waist, displaying long, twisted teeth like blades. From both mouths, escaped A thick, almost liquid breath, brimming with power and scorn.

“So this…” His voice echoed in two tones—one from his upper mouth, the other, deeper, from his lower mouth. “…is the famous Demon King? What a disappointment.”

Ada recoiled instinctively, the air around her shifting as if the body of that being distorted Erebus itself.

Vergil, still kneeling, raised his gaze with effort. His red eyes trembled, but not from fear—from contained rage.

The being tilted his head, a bored expression on his face.

“I expected more… honestly.”

He extended one arm, as if holding an invisible insect.

“You seemed taller in the stories.”

Vergil tried to lift Yamato, but the arm barely responded.

The blade clinked on the ground, stained with blood.

The being laughed again, and the mouth at its waist followed the sound, creating a grotesque harmony.

“Weak. Pathetic. Chaos Incarnate is nothing more than a tired and dirty man.”

The flames around them flickered. Even the shadows of Hades hesitated to approach that presence.

Yama took a step forward, its golden eyes narrowing. “Enough.”

The being slowly turned its gaze to her—or rather, one eye.

“Enough?” It laughed, leaning forward like a curious predator. “You said you wanted a test. I only started the warm-up.”

“I told you you’d face him in the tournament, not now.” Yama’s voice carried a grave tone, but there was a spark of irritation there—a spark of something more personal.

The being laughed. “Ah, of course. Rules. Protocols. Balances.” Mouths parted in a double smile. “But he was distracted… and I don’t like to wait.”

“You dare attack within my domain without permission?!” Hades rose from his throne, and his voice thundered through Erebus.

The being merely looked at him—with an insolent calm.

“Your domain? Oh, Hades… this plane is just another point on a map that I can redraw whenever I want.” The golden eyes narrowed. “Don’t test my patience. I am not one of your dogs.”

A heavy silence filled the arena.

Wukong, normally playful, maintained a serious expression.

Hela and Shiva exchanged glances—both recognized the energetic signature.

Yama clenched his fist, and finally, the name came out of his mouth like a verdict: “Ryōmen, my champion.”

The name echoed like a sentence.

Ada’s eyes widened. “Champion…?”

Ryōmen grinned, revealing too many rows of teeth. “Champion, servant, instrument—the titles change, but the pleasure remains the same.” He looked at Vergil with disdain.

“Should I fight this in the Heavenly Tournament? What a joke.”

Vergil, panting, let out a low sound—a bloody, broken laugh. “Heh… talks too much… for someone… who needs… four arms… to feel important.”

Ryōmen tilted his head, and all his eyes gleamed.

“Even bleeding and broken, you still dare to provoke. I like that.” He took a step forward, and the ground creaked beneath his weight. “Maybe I’ll break every bone in your body right now… and see how long you can last without passing out.”

“No.” Yama’s voice sounded like a blade.

Ryōmen stopped.

All eyes turned to her. The air around them grew thick, and even sound seemed to disappear.

“You hurt him outside the rules,” Yama said coldly. “And for that… you will make amends.”

Ryōmen smiled… a smile divided between her two mouths. “Make amends? How? Do you want me to heal him?” He chuckled, the sound mingling with the deep growl of his lower mouth. “He would die before I finished the first syllable of the incantation.”

“No,” Yama replied.

“You will keep him alive until the Tournament. Whole. Strong.” Her tone changed—laden with divine authority. “Because when the confrontation happens… I want him to destroy you.”

The words reverberated through Erebus.

Ryōmen’s smile froze for an instant—then transformed into a low, slow laugh, like the sound of a current dragging in the depths of hell.

“You want him to destroy me?” He bowed to Vergil, his face almost touching his. “Then, Demon King… survive. I want to see you crawl to the Tournament. I want to see what chaos does when it understands that the abyss can also smile.”

Vergil, bloodied, looked at him with disdain.

Surprisingly, Vergil’s body began to heal.

Slowly, the deep fissures in his skin closed, blood flowed again, and the regenerated tissue seemed to burn with a vivid black light. The demonic energy, once exhausted, now rose like a raging storm.

No—furious was an understatement.

This was primordial wrath, chaos itself awakening in agony and revolt.

The ground around him trembled, and a dragon-like shadow slid beneath him, expanding until it touched the ceiling of Erebus. Hades’s containment runes began to vibrate.

Within his soul, in the depths of his soul’s Dimension… Itharine, the Shadow Dragon, watched everything with eyes like a scene…

Her voice whispered, deep and tense, echoing within the demon’s mind:

“Master… come out of there now. Your soul… is beginning to crack.”

But even as she spoke, she herself fell silent… Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The two oldest presences in the draconic world had stopped.

Nivara, the Platinum Empress, and Crymsaria, the Crimson Empress, stood motionless, side by side.

The crimson flame and the supreme cold that always clashed now oscillated in unison. Both looked in the same direction… at him.

Vergil.

The very spiritual space trembled under the gaze of the two dragon goddesses.

Then, Nivara’s voice roared through the heavens of the soul, each syllable resounding like thunder piercing worlds:

“Boy! I don’t care about my pride, use my power! Now! Kill this worm!” The ancient ice roared behind her, a sea of ​​blue crystals bowing in reverence to her fury.

And, for the first time in millennia, Crymsaria agreed with her rival.

The fire surrounding her burned even more intensely, revealing her demonic red eyes, filled with hatred and rage.

“YES! Take everything from me if you must, but destroy that bastard! Now!”

For a moment, even Itharine recoiled.

The two Dragon Empresses, eternal enemies, had reached an agreement—something that hadn’t happened since… no, it had never happened!

The spiritual air burned and froze simultaneously. The essences of Nivara and Crymsaria began to intertwine—fire and ice, creation and ruin, two impossible forces coexisting for only one common purpose: to annihilate this creature.

Vergil’s body reacted immediately.

The veins of demonic energy in his body glowed blue and red simultaneously, alternating in violent pulses.

His blood evaporated, transforming into flames and crystals at the same time.

The ground split open, and the symbol of the Twin Dragons—fire and ice intertwined—shone beneath their feet.

Ada, still holding him, felt the touch of heat and cold cutting through her skin.

“Vergil…” she whispered, sensing something far greater than power—something divine, ancient, uncontrollable.

Vergil’s eyes snapped open.

A blazing gold in one.

An icy blue in the other.

His voice was low, hoarse, but laden with the authority of one who speaks to gods and monsters: “So… even you two agreed?”

In the spirit world, Crymsaria smiled—a wild smile, made of pure flame.

Nivara merely responded with a cold stare, but the glint in her eyes said the same thing: do it.

Vergil stood.

The blood that flowed disappeared before touching the ground.

The wounds closed in seconds.

The power of two dragon-emperors now merged with the demonic essence of the Demon King.

The next moment… Vergil became even stronger.