My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 614

Chapter 614: Back to normal life
The explosion shook the air.

BOOM!

It wasn’t an ordinary explosion—it was the smooth, brutal impact of the Bifröst colliding with the mortal plane. The Norse runes burned on the garden floor like blue embers, forming a perfect circle with interwoven patterns that snaked like living serpents. The cosmic rainbow shone for an instant… and then dissipated, leaving only shimmering smoke.

Vergil emerged first.

Yawning.

As if he’d just stepped off a crowded bus, not returned from a divine conclave where he’d split reality in two and humiliated a champion of the gods.

“Woo…” he murmured, stretching like a lazy cat as he traversed the incandescent runes.

Ada followed close behind, adjusting her hair, still with that protective look she only had when she was beside him.

Brynhildr stood on the runic circle, the Nordic aura still pulsing around her feet. The wind tugged at her blonde braids as she watched the two walk away.

“Boy.” Her voice called to them before they were too far away. “Be careful.”

Vergil and Ada stopped.

Brynhildr stepped forward, her face serious, and added:

“What you did today hasn’t yet been processed by the gods. But when it is… the weight of responsibility will fall on your shoulders.”

The silence grew heavy for a second.

Vergil responded only with a sigh. Then he turned his face to her, lazily, almost amused.

“Your innocence is admirable, Odin’s War Valkyrie.”

Brynhildr frowned. “Innocence?”

Vergil turned completely—and, for an instant, that cold glint in his eyes returned. Not violent… but too logical. Too lucid.

The gaze of someone who sees behind myths, behind masks… behind deities.

“Do you really think I didn’t notice the absurd number of useless gods gathered in that place?”

Brynhildr opened her mouth, but didn’t answer. She didn’t even know how.

“They used Dionysus as bait to gauge the competitors’ potential.” Vergil continued, his voice calm, too apathetic for the gravity of the matter. “They wanted to see who would be able to oppose the gods without hesitation.”

He took a step closer to her, his hands in his pockets, as if discussing finances—not divine conspiracies.

“Do you think it’s a coincidence that Shiva was watching? Susanoo didn’t interfere? Hela only appeared at the end…? They could all have stopped it before it started.”

Brynhildr swallowed hard. The fact that she hadn’t thought of that hurt her.

Vergil sighed and concluded with that brutal simplicity that was uniquely his:

“If I really wanted to send a message, I would have killed all the minor gods in that place.”

Ada didn’t even blink. She knew he wasn’t exaggerating.

Vergil continued:

“Dionysus was enough. It was all I needed to make it clear that messing with me comes at a high price.”

His eyes narrowed.

“And before you think otherwise… I didn’t exaggerate.”

Brynhildr finally found her voice:

“No… exag—?”

Vergil interrupted her in a serene tone.

“Dionysus will return. He’s an Olympian god. They always return.”

His gaze turned cold. “If I erased someone from another entire pantheon… the mythologies would collapse. Lines of reality, spiritual mantles, cosmic cycles… everything would fall.”

The silence grew even denser.

“I wanted to avoid this,” Vergil concluded. “I want peace. Just peace. And with my people.”

He looked at Ada, and she returned the look with a small smile—tense, but sincere.

Vergil turned his gaze back to Brynhildr.

“Then don’t talk to me about responsibility.”

He gave a slight nod.

“Their responsibility for their own traps is not mine.”

And he turned to enter Sapphire’s mansion as if he had just returned from a supermarket.

Brynhildr stood there, the Bifröst runes still emitting their final glow, staring at the man who had defied gods… and who still claimed to want only peace.

And it was at that moment that she finally understood:

The greatest threat was not his power.

It was the fact that he didn’t want to use it.

Because, if he wanted to—

No small pantheon would survive…

Vergil was already on the wooden balcony leading to the mansion when he stopped again. The night light reflected off his coat as he glanced over his shoulder at Brynhildr.

“I’m going to win this tournament.” His voice came out so calm it almost sounded like a domestic promise. “Settle this quickly. And get back to my quiet life.”

Ada took a deep breath, as if that tranquility were the biggest lie in the universe.

Vergil kept walking, but his posture said he wasn’t finished yet.

“Oh… and one more thing.” His energy shifted—a hint of warning, of sharp distrust. “Be careful with Yama and those sneaky maneuvers.”

Brynhildr raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Vergil turned sideways, just enough to let his demonic aura lick the air for a moment.

“She thinks I haven’t noticed the body she’s using?” His tone was dry. “A cheap, flimsy vessel… the kind that’s on the verge of spiritual collapse if you blow too hard.”

Brynhildr clenched her jaw—now understanding perfectly.

“You… see through that guy’s body?”

“I see through everything.” Vergil replied as if it were obvious.

“And when an underworld god forces himself into a weak vessel, the mark becomes obvious. A smell, a vibration, a tremor in the aura.”

Ada glanced at him sideways, already accustomed to his unsettling perception.

Vergil then added, more serious than before:

“She should be careful. Forcing that kind of avatar always takes its toll. Sooner or later.”

Brynhildr felt a chill run down her spine—he wasn’t threatening. He was stating a fact.

Vergil walked again, climbing the steps, but spoke loudly enough for the Valkyrie to hear:

“Something’s wrong with this tournament.”

Brynhildr’s eyes widened.

Vergil stopped at the door, without looking back.

“I barely met any of the fighters. Only Wukong’s candidate… and Shiva’s children.”

Ada crossed her arms, looking at Brynhildr as if to say, “You know this doesn’t make sense.”

Vergil finished:

“It’s too strange.”

The wind changed direction, as if the world had stopped to listen.

“And when the gods hide too much…” Now, he looked over his shoulder, the blue of his eyes burning in the darkness. “…it’s because they’re afraid of what they’ll reveal.”

The mansion door opened by itself.

Vergil entered as if retiring for a hot bath, not from a divine battlefield.

Brynhildr stood there, motionless, feeling an uncomfortable truth:

If even Vergil was suspicious…

…

Yama surged through the main hall like a cataclysm trapped inside a human body. Each step exploded as if she were stomping directly on the nerves of the world—a God of Death reduced to a weak shell, yet still a hurricane of hatred compressed too tightly to fit inside.

A single kick.

CRACK—BOOOOOOOM!

The floor collapsed like glass under a hammer, forming a crater that swallowed three meters of the floor. The walls, once smooth and imposing, tore apart in jagged patterns, as if trying to escape her touch.

“AAARGH!!!”

The scream reverberated in the depths of the structure like a thousand funeral bells shattering at once. It wasn’t just anger. It was humiliation. It was the one emotion a god of death should never feel.

But she felt it.

And it burned.

Vergil had killed her candidate.

The perfect warrior.

The ideal vessel.

The most important piece of her plan—carefully cultivated, nurtured, trained, molded for a purpose greater than any human could comprehend.

And Vergil killed it as if he were crushing a mosquito.

A dry crack cut through the air as Yama struck the void, and three massive pillars imploded like hollow shells, hurling dust and debris dozens of meters away.

“YEARS!”

Her voice tore through the hall like a furious thunderclap.

“YEARS perfecting that spirit! That body! That DAMNED blueprint!”

The impact of that explosion shattered hundreds of ancestral statues into microscopic fragments, pulverized by the pressure of her aura.

Shadows raced along the walls, trying to hide from the presence that should control them.

Spiritual servants crawled back, some dematerializing from sheer fear.

None dared to stand.

None dared to breathe.

Her aura surged from her body like black, distorted, frenzied flames—as if trying to escape, as if even her own energy was terrified of what was about to happen.

“How could he…” The ground trembled beneath her feet.

“…how DARE he…?!”

Yama punched the floor with enough force to split a mountain. The stone opened with an agonizing groan, cracks crisscrossing the entire hall like serpents of destruction.

Vergil.

His name was poison in her mind.

That mortal.

That abomination.

That demon who walked among gods with the audacity of someone who had never known fear.

His cold gaze.

His insulting calm.

The way he stared at her as if she were… irrelevant.

But nothing cut her as deeply as a single word.

The way he called her.

Yama gritted her teeth so hard that blood trickled from the corners of her lips. Her fists clenched until human skin cracked and dripped red onto the cracked floor.

“I will destroy him.”

Her voice was low, but the venom within her was more lethal than any scream.

“I will break this boy. I will dismantle every muscle, every bone, every fragment of this filthy soul. He will beg… he will PLEAD to die—”

Her energy exploded with the fury of a black sun.

FWWWWOOOOOOOM!!!

A devastating wave swept through the hall and the outer corridor, extinguishing torches, melting stones, making ceremonial weapons scream as they were destroyed by the infernal heat. The temperature rose so high that the air burned.

But then…

Her human body failed.

Her aura fractured like shattering glass.

Balance was lost.

Flesh trembled and collapsed. Yama fell to her knees, panting, breathing as if she were swallowing fire.

This shell couldn’t hold any longer.

Vergil had realized this.

Vergil had exposed this.

Vergil had mocked this.

Humiliation tightened around her chest like an invisible fist.

“Damn it…” The whisper was a spasm of hatred.

“The bastard will pay. I will find another body. Another perfect vessel.”

Her eyes blazed such an intense red that the room was stained with blood.

“And when the tournament begins…” The floor beneath her vibrated as if trying to recoil.

“…I myself will wipe that smile off his face.”

The hall trembled, frightened, like a cornered animal about to be devoured by its own owner.

Yama rose slowly, her body already burned, her skin marked by veins of dark energy that tore through the flesh and revealed the power beneath the human facade. The rage was absolute.

The pain was visceral.

The humiliation was unbearable.

And within all of that…

An obsession growing like a disease.

The hall behind her was destroyed.

Reduced to ruins.

But she didn’t look.

She was already thinking about the next body.

The next step.

The next move to destroy the boy who insulted her before all the pantheons.

The only thought that mattered was simple, brutal, and inevitable:

Vergil must die.