My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Brynhildr was the first to reach the crater.

She jumped, landed at the edge, and descended without slowing down. Sigrun came immediately behind her, accompanied by two Valkyries, while Freya passed all of them as soon as she saw Vergil sitting among shattered stones, both arms still in the process of reconstructing. Gungnir’s residual energy remained attached to his body like an invisible layer, mixed with the Authority of Death, demonic energy, and the remnants of the divine transformation that had not yet dissipated.

Freya ran down.

"Vergil!"

She knelt in front of him and extended her hand.

"Stay back," Vergil said immediately.

The order came quickly enough to make her stop with her fingers only a few centimeters from his chest.

Freya looked at him, angry and frightened at the same time. "You are covered in blood, your arms are broken, and you just crossed half the Demon Realm holding a spear that tried to pierce your head. Do not tell me to stay back."

"Then touch me."

She remained motionless.

Vergil raised his eyes toward her. "Touch me, if you want to die."

Freya’s expression changed.

"You are an idiot."

"And you are impulsive."

"I was only trying to help."

"I know. That is why I warned you."

Vergil placed one hand against the ground and began to stand. The bones in his right arm aligned with dry cracks, then were covered again by muscles and skin. The left took longer. Gungnir had pierced his defenses, crushed the internal structure, and left an absurd amount of divine energy inside the wound. Regeneration closed the physical damage, but could not immediately expel Odin’s signature.

When he finally stood, an enormous scar remained across his left arm.

It began near the shoulder, crossed the biceps, and descended in an irregular line toward the forearm. The surrounding skin was darkened, with small golden and black filaments moving beneath the surface like two forces trying to consume each other.

Freya saw it and moved her hand closer again.

Vergil pulled the arm away.

"Not yet."

She pressed her lips together.

"Explain properly."

"There is too much divine and demonic energy mixed inside me." He observed the scar for a moment. "Odin’s spear left part of its authority in my body. My regeneration is using demonic energy to expel it, but the two are reacting. If you touch me now, that mixture may recognize your new nature as food."

Freya became paler.

Vergil continued:

"You have not completely stabilized your transformation yet. You would probably be consumed from both sides before I could stop it."

She lowered her eyes.

"Sorry."

The answer came without resistance or irony. Freya simply retreated one step, closed her hands in front of her body, and lowered her head. The concern remained visible, but she finally understood that the order had not been coldness. Vergil was preventing her from killing herself while trying to help him.

Brynhildr and Sigrun reached the bottom of the crater at that moment. Both kept their distance after noticing the instability around his body.

"King," Brynhildr said. "Can you remain standing?"

"I can."

Vergil closed his eyes.

The Authority of Death circulated through the injured arm and formed a dark layer around the scar. Then the energy of Gluttony emerged to devour the divine excess, while Greed kept everything within narrow limits to prevent an explosion. The process took almost a minute. The golden filaments reacted, burning the skin and reopening part of the wound, but Vergil kept the arm still until the final concentration of Odin’s energy was torn away.

Divine light left his body like golden smoke.

Vergil crushed it in the palm of his hand.

Then purified the rest with White Fire.

The scar did not disappear.

It remained deep and marked, although it no longer carried the previous instability. Vergil ran his fingers over it and realized that Gungnir had done more than injure him. The spear had left a conceptual mark. A physical reminder that he had held a weapon created to kill gods while it was still trying to complete its enchantment.

When he was certain there was no longer any danger, he approached Freya and placed a hand on her head.

Freya raised her eyes in surprise.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked.

She took several seconds to answer.

"Yes. Most are frightened, some are injured, and many do not understand where they are, but they are alive."

Brynhildr nodded.

"We managed to bring almost every unit that was in Asgard and Valhalla. The ones left behind were marked, but we may need another passage to retrieve them."

Sigrun looked around.

"The most urgent problem is something else. We cannot remain in the Underworld for long."

Vergil removed his hand from Freya’s head and turned toward her.

"How long?"

"We do not know exactly. Some are feeling the miasma entering their armor. Others have already begun showing skin irritation and changes in breathing. Our souls are resistant to death, but this place is not Helheim. The energy here does not recognize us as part of the cycle."

Vergil nodded.

It was expected.

"Gather everyone."

Brynhildr tilted her head.

"In formation?"

"Yes. I want to see them together before deciding the next step."

The two Valkyries wasted no time. Sigrun returned to the surface of the crater and began transmitting orders through the communication runes. Brynhildr followed in the opposite direction to organize the units nearest the stolen Bifröst. Freya remained beside Vergil for several seconds, still looking at the scar.

"Will it stay like that?"

"Probably."

"Odin left a scar on you."

Vergil observed the arm.

"I also destroyed his bridge, stole the Valkyries, and almost sealed Gungnir."

Freya gave a small laugh.

"When you say it like that, it sounds fair."

"It was not."

"Of course it was not."

Several minutes later, a vast plain near Sparda was occupied by entire rows of Valkyries. The formation extended an impressive distance. Spears were held vertically, shields attached beside their bodies, and swords arranged according to company, role, and experience. Even outside Asgard, without ancient orders or divine supervision, they moved with the precision of an army that had spent ages repeating the same formations.

The Bifröst rose behind them.

Qliphoth had trapped the structure between colossal roots, preventing the Rainbow Bridge from attempting to return to the Nine Realms. Multicolored light crossed the dark sky of the Demon Realm, creating a strange contrast with the red clouds, black mountains, and still-unfinished structures of Sparda.

Vergil walked to the front of the formation accompanied by Freya and Brynhildr. Sigrun adjusted the final rows, moving groups and checking units through small runic plates.

"How many are there?" Vergil asked.

Sigrun finished giving an order before answering.

"Twelve thousand."

Vergil gave a low whistle.

"Damn."

He looked across the formation again.

"Even the ones who were in Valhalla?"

Sigrun nodded.

"Almost all of them. Some units remained behind to care for injured sisters who could not be moved without preparation. But they were marked and can be retrieved later."

"And Helheim?"

"The Valkyries stationed along the lower routes are still missing. We estimate approximately three thousand."

Vergil frowned slightly.

Three thousand Valkyries.

That was an enormous number of warriors and conductors of souls. How were three thousand not enough to reorganize the dead trapped across Helheim’s bridges? Hela had spoken about broken routes, accumulated souls, and entire sectors without control. Perhaps the problem had never been a lack of personnel. Perhaps the passages themselves were rejecting the Valkyries, or something was diverting the souls elsewhere before they could act.

That question would wait.

Vergil advanced until he stood in front of everyone.

Then he clapped his hands once.

The sound was amplified by demonic energy and crossed the entire plain like an impact. Twelve thousand faces turned toward him. Some Valkyries already knew him. Others had only heard stories. Many still looked at his hidden wings, the scar left by Gungnir, and Mjölnir attached to his waist, trying to understand what kind of man had stolen the Bifröst and faced Odin alone to ensure their retreat.

Vergil made no effort to appear more impressive.

"Since all of you followed the revolution, I assume you want a better life."

A movement of agreement crossed the formation.

Some nodded.

Others struck their spears against the ground.

Brynhildr remained beside him, observing in silence.

"Very well," Vergil continued. "I will not promise high wages, palaces, gold, or anything like that because, as you can see..."

He pointed toward Sparda.

The demonic city was still developing. Towers and walls were being constructed, entire districts were beginning to rise around the castle, and wide roads crossed regions where, only months earlier, there had been nothing except volcanic terrain. It was a functioning kingdom, but clearly a young one.

"My kingdom is growing. The capital of the Demon Realm is very far from here, and we are still a small nation. I do not think we are even the size of Portugal."

Some Valkyries exchanged confused looks.

Sigrun leaned toward Brynhildr.

"What is Portugal?"

Brynhildr answered without moving her lips much.

"A human territory."

"Large?"

"Judging by the comment, no."

Vergil heard them but decided to ignore it.

"You also cannot remain in the Underworld as you are. The energy here will corrupt your bodies and souls. Even trained witches die after approximately twelve hours if they remain without protection. Ordinary humans die almost the instant they enter the deeper regions. Divine spirits endure longer, but the result is the same."

The formation became more serious.

Some could already feel the effect.

Vergil continued:

"You are still alive because you carry a kind of pass from death. You can enter dimensions connected to the cycle of the dead, such as Helheim, certain layers of Duat, and some sectors of other underworlds. But that does not mean you can live in any demonic realm."

Brynhildr raised her voice.

"Then we cannot remain in Sparda?"

"Not like this."

A murmur crossed the rows.

Vergil raised one hand and waited for silence to return.

"I will give all of you free passage within the Demon Realm. You will be able to live here, build your own homes, create your own families, and choose your roles. None of you will be forced to continue working as collectors of the dead. Those who wish to join Sparda’s army will be accepted. Those who wish to abandon their weapons may do so as well."

Sigrun observed the warriors’ reactions. Some seemed uncomfortable with the idea of abandoning combat. Others were clearly moved by the mere possibility.

Brynhildr frowned.

"What exactly would this free passage be?"

Vergil looked at her.

A smile began appearing on his face.

"I am going to transform all of you into my race."

The silence was immediate.

Twelve thousand Valkyries remained motionless.

Freya slowly turned her head toward him.

"Your race?"

Sigrun asked what almost everyone was thinking.

"Are you not a demon?"

"Also."

The answer did not help.

Brynhildr narrowed her eyes.

"Then do you intend to transform us into demons?"

"No."

"But you just said you are going to transform us into your race."

"Yes."

A Valkyrie in the first rows raised her hand, unsure whether that was allowed. Brynhildr made a small gesture granting permission.

"What is your race?"

Vergil did not answer immediately.

The energy inside him began to change.

The demonic wings came first. Three black structures opened from the left side of his back, covered in dark membranes, spikes, and violet lines from the Authority of Death. Their presence caused the Underworld’s miasma to bend around Vergil, recognizing him as part of its nature.

Then came the divine wings.

Three bright wings opened from the right side, formed by white feathers carrying golden and silver reflections. Divine energy left them without clashing against the demonic side. The two forces remained beside each other, connected to the same body and obeying the same soul.

The six wings occupied the space behind Vergil.

Half divine.

Half demonic.

The Valkyries completely lost their disciplined expressions for several seconds. Some involuntarily stepped backward. Others raised their faces, trying to understand how two opposing natures could exist together without destroying the host.

Freya had already seen parts of that form.

Even so, watching Vergil stand before an entire army and deliberately reveal his true nature was different.

Vergil spread the wings completely.

"I am not merely a demon."

Divine and demonic energy mixed around his body, forming a stable field instead of an explosion.

"I am an Aethernox."

Brynhildr repeated the name quietly.

"Aethernox..."

Vergil nodded.

"A race capable of existing between the divine, the demonic, and death without being consumed by any of them." He looked at the twelve thousand Valkyries. "And that is the freedom I will offer you."

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