My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 613
Chapter 613: End of Event
The impact of the Judgment Cut End still vibrated in the air—not just in the arena, but in the very fabric of reality. The dimensional tear remained as a glowing scar floating in space, a silent testament to something that shouldn’t exist.
A cut capable of rupturing a dimension.
A feat incomprehensible even to gods.
The demonic energy in the environment still dispersed, like cosmic dust seeking a place to rest after being molded beyond possibility.
It was, at first glance, a dimensional blow.
But it wasn’t just that.
Vergil had manipulated the very existence of demonic energy, using every fragment present in the world—as fulcrums, as lines of tension—to weave an impossible blow.
Shiva watched in silence.
He had seen transcendental attacks, ancient techniques, forbidden arts.
Nothing compared.
The mind of the god of destruction replayed the movement repeatedly, analyzing each microscopic cut, each fold of space. The more she saw, the less she understood.
‘That lunatic…’ thought Shiva, unable to contain her bitter admiration.
But it wasn’t him who stepped forward.
It was Susanoo, the Goddess of Storms.
Her eyes were fixed on the spot where Ryōmen had ceased to exist—not in horror, but in pure fascination.
For her, that was the pinnacle.
Not just of demonic technique.
But of swordsmanship.
The beginning and end of a supreme art—the absolute expression of a swordsman who, by all divine standards, should have spent ages perfecting himself.
And yet, the boy was twenty years old.
She couldn’t contain herself.
“When did you create this?” Her voice cut through the silence, impatient, hungry for understanding.
Vergil, still with his hand resting on Ada, turned to the goddess as if the matter were obvious.
“Now.” Susanoo narrowed her eyes, disbelief tearing across her face.
“That’s impossible.” No emotional wavering, just the cold truth of a deity who knew the weight of the ages. “Techniques like that aren’t born in minutes.”
Vergil raised an eyebrow, indifferent to the astonishment around him.
He didn’t explain.
He didn’t soften his stance.
He didn’t justify himself.
He simply repeated, with the same tranquility he had when executing the strike… “I created it now.”
And for the first time, the gods realized:
He wasn’t boasting.
It was simply the truth.
Vergil took a deep breath, as if tearing through a dimension, reducing a champion to nothing, and plunging the entire pantheon into absolute silence were just another tedious detail of the day.
He gently adjusted Ada beside him with unexpected delicacy, while the demonic energy surrounding him subsided, converging into a tense calm—the calm of a volcano that had simply decided not to erupt today.
“I’m leaving,” he said, with the nonchalance of someone who had just finished a casual training session. “I expect you all at the tournament.”
He turned to walk toward the exit, already leaving the fragmented arena behind.
But Yama’s voice burst forth, laden with rage, disbelief, and… something else.
“YOU KILLED A COMPETITOR!” She took a step forward, the ground beneath her feet trembling with the pressure of her aura. “That’s a direct violation of the—”
Vergil stopped.
Not abruptly, but with the calculated slowness of a predator who had sensed something unsettling behind him.
The entire arena seemed to hold its breath.
His shadow distorted on the ground, growing larger, as if trying to rise from the surface and materialize.
He turned only his face.
That alone was enough to make the atmosphere collapse into absolute silence.
His blue eyes cut through Yama like blades sharp enough to split worlds.
“Now shut up,” he said, his voice low, without raising his tone. “And be grateful I didn’t kill you, you bitch.”
It was as if thunder had struck the center of the arena, but without sound.
Only impact.
Yama took a half-step back, his eyes trembling—not from the insult, but from the sudden and terrifying realization that he was telling the truth.
That he could, that he wanted to, and that only a momentary choice had stopped him.
“Finally, Brynhildr, could you take me on the Byfrost back to the Biblical Underworld? I need to prepare to win the Celestial Tournament,” he asks, looking at the beautiful Valkyrie.
The last particles of Judgment Cut End still floated in the air, like stardust searching for where to fall, when Vergil simply… changed.
In the blink of an eye.
A moment before, he was the very embodiment of calamity—the man who split a dimension, who threatened a goddess like one threatens an insect.
The next… he looked like someone who had just woken from a good night’s sleep.
He turned to Brynhildr with a quiet, almost gentle half-smile.
“Finally, Brynhildr, could you take me on the Bifröst back to the Biblical Underworld? I need to prepare to win the Celestial Tournament.”
A collective silence crackled.
Not a tense silence—but a stunned, complete silence.
It was like watching a cataclysm transform into a sunset in the blink of an eye.
Brynhildr, accustomed to armies, battles, storms, and blood… froze.
She truly froze.
The blush rose up her cheeks so quickly that even her armor seemed to heat up.
He was… too handsome.
Not the destructively handsome of before—the cold-eyed predator.
Now it was something worse.
The slight smile, the gentle, almost casual tone.
The contrast between the absolute demon and the tranquil man.
A charm that dismantled defenses that not even gods had foreseen needing.
Ada, beside him, narrowed her eyes slowly, very slowly, staring at the Valkyrie with that typical “keep looking like that and I’ll rip your head off” expression.
Brynhildr noticed.
She almost choked on her own breath, straightened her posture, and cleared her throat, the blush still there, but now trying to appear professional.
“Of course… it’s… it’s better if we go outside. The Bifröst doesn’t open inside the arena.”
Her voice faltered on the first word, and Ada shot a deadly look.
Brynhildr straightened her posture even more, as if she were about to faint from tension. Vergil simply nodded, smiling as if he hadn’t noticed a thing.
But before they could take a step, a voice echoed loudly.
“Wait a second.”
Shiva.
The god of destruction walked towards Vergil with his usual composure, but there was something different—a faint gleam of sincere respect.
Something rare.
He stopped in front of the boy and, without any ceremony, threw something.
Vergil caught it easily:
a small crystalline core, dark as obsidian and pulsating with energy.
“When you want to become stronger,” said Shiva, with a smile that only a warrior of ages could give, “look for me. Kali will enjoy fighting with you.”
The air seemed to ripple.
Everyone knew what that meant.
Shiva didn’t invite anyone into his domain.
And Kali… well, those who knew, knew.
Vergil kept the core naturally.
“Thank you. As soon as the tournament is over, I’ll stop by your pantheon.”
He said it like someone promising to visit a friend for coffee—and Shiva smiled even wider.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
But it wasn’t just Shiva.
Another voice, firm and charged with electricity, emerged from behind him.
“And so do I.”
Susanoo crossed her arms, standing there with that air of an impatient warrior.
Her eyes still burned with the memory of the blow.
“If you want to improve your sword techniques, go to Japan after the tournament.”
She pointed to the ground, as if marking a point on a map.
“Go through the yokai gate and find me. If you’re willing to train seriously… I can transform your blade into something that even the heavens will fear.”
The entire arena seemed to tremble again—not because of the technique, but because of the idea.
The Goddess of Storms had just invited a demon to learn her ancient techniques. Vergil simply smiled.
“After the tournament, I’ll stop by there too.”
Susanoo raised an eyebrow, surprised by the promptness of the reply.
But in the end… he smiled back.
He wasn’t being arrogant.
He was just telling the truth.
**
And then something almost comical happened:
Everyone present—gods, valkyries, warriors, even Hades and Wukong—
watched Vergil as if observing an incomprehensible natural phenomenon.
Two minutes before, he was an existential threat.
A monster that tore dimensions apart.
The presence that made Yama recoil like a warned child.
Now…
Now he seemed just a relaxed, almost charming young man, with a gentle smile and a tranquility that made anyone forget that he had just erased someone from existence.
Wukong was the first to laugh.
“That boy is really dangerous…” he murmured, chuckling softly. “And the worst part is that half of us here are starting to like him.”
Hades crossed his arms, trying to maintain composure, but definitely intrigued.
Even Shiva tilted his head as if trying to understand how that boy could alternate between cataclysm and good humor so quickly.
Ada, meanwhile…
Ada was just holding his arm tightly, ready to stab with her gaze anyone who stared too long.
Brynhildr, still blushing, involuntarily saluted—not because it was necessary, but because it was the only way to keep her body functioning.
“Let’s go outside,” she repeated, more firmly now.
Vergil nodded, holding Ada’s hand.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
And so he began to walk out of the arena, surrounded by incredulous, respectful, fearful… some even admiring glances.
Part of absolute calamity.
…
“Friend,” Katharina said, looking at her cell phone, where there were several pictures of Vergil and Ada together.
“I…” Roxanne tried to say something but didn’t even know how to react to the various comments about Vergil on supernatural social media. She had been reading for an hour about Vergil causing enormous chaos and threatening Yama with death…
They didn’t even know it yet, but… Vergil killed a God while they were at home wasting time on social media.
“Rox…” Katharia said and showed a photo… “This isn’t…”
Roxanne’s gaze turned very nervous… “Why the hell is a Valkyrie blushing near our husband?”
The “Whores near Vergil” alert started beeping in both Katharina and Roxanne.