My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Vergil appeared before the Rainbow Bridge shortly after leaving the human world. The Bifröst remained suspended over the eastern region of Sparda, trapped between Qliphoth’s monumental roots and surrounded by temporary structures erected by demonic engineers. The bridge had stopped trying to return to the Nine Realms, but it still released regular pulses of multicolored energy that made the sky of the Demon Realm appear divided between two incompatible realities.

He spent several seconds observing the work.

Groups of demons analyzed the outer runes without touching them directly. Several newly transformed Valkyries patrolled the perimeter and instructed anyone who became too curious to keep their distance. Around the base, Qliphoth’s smaller roots entered the golden structures and disappeared inside the dimensional connection, deepening the illicit link she had created with Yggdrasil.

Mjölnir vibrated at his waist.

Vergil placed one hand over the handle.

"No. We are not going to Asgard."

The hammer released a short spark, apparently satisfied with the answer.

Vergil sighed and opened a magic circle beneath his feet. He could have used Yamato, but he had no intention of creating more dimensional cuts than necessary while the connection with the Bifröst was still stabilizing. The demonic runes closed around his legs, recognized the authority of the King of Sparda, and removed him from that place.

The destination was not Helheim.

Not yet.

The light disappeared, and Vergil appeared directly in the center of the Underworld’s capital, inside the building reserved for the Council of Archons. The circular hall contained four large seats arranged around a black table, each representing one of the realm’s oldest authorities. One was empty and would remain that way until Amon found someone capable of replacing Astaroth.

Phenex was not present.

Paimon was not there either.

Only Amon occupied the room.

The current administrative ruler of the Underworld sat behind the main table, surrounded by stacks of documents, military reports, tax records, and letters sent by nobles who had probably already turned Astaroth’s death into a political crisis. He held a black pen and wrote with enough force that the tip nearly pierced the paper.

Amon noticed Vergil the instant he appeared.

His eyes moved subtly.

Then returned to the document.

No greeting.

No complaint.

No threat.

Amon decided to behave as though the King of Sparda simply did not exist.

Vergil remained standing in front of him for several seconds.

"Aren’t you going to say anything?"

Amon dipped the pen into the inkwell and continued writing.

Vergil looked around the empty hall.

"Phenex did not come to work?"

Silence.

"Paimon is probably avoiding you."

The pen pressed slightly harder against the paper.

Vergil noticed.

A small smile appeared on his face.

He disappeared from where he stood and reappeared sitting on the edge of Amon’s desk, between two stacks of documents that nearly fell from the displacement of air. Mjölnir was removed from his waist and casually tossed backward. The hammer spun several times, crossed part of the room, and returned on its own to his hand.

Vergil repeated the motion.

Mjölnir appeared to be enjoying itself.

Amon continued writing for another ten seconds before stopping.

"What do you want?"

Vergil made a face.

"If you are going to act like an irritated wife, at least use the form of a hot milf. Disgusting."

Amon closed his eyes.

His demonic energy surrounded his body like red smoke. The broad structure of his shoulders narrowed, his waist became slimmer, and his harsh features transformed. Long reddish hair grew down to his chest, two large black horns curved above his head, and his ears lengthened into demonic points. When the smoke disappeared, a tall woman sat behind the desk, with red eyes, gray skin, and an expression every bit as irritated as before.

The clothes had changed as well. Amon now wore a fitted black outfit with a subtle opening over the chest and long gloves ending in claw-like fingers. The feminine face possessed an aggressive, mature beauty, marked by a smile that might have seemed seductive if she were not clearly imagining ways to kill Vergil.

He examined the new form from head to toe.

Amon raised an eyebrow.

Vergil slowly nodded.

"If you were actually a woman, I would fuck you easily."

"Shut up."

"Much better."

"What the fuck do you want?"

Vergil tossed Mjölnir backward again.

The hammer spun and returned to his hand.

"I only came to tell you that I am going to Helheim."

Amon stared at him.

Vergil maintained a neutral expression.

"That is all?"

"Yes."

"You never warn anyone about anything."

"I am warning you now."

"You stole the Bifröst without warning me. Killed Astaroth without warning me. Brought twelve thousand Valkyries into the Underworld without warning me. Transformed all of them into a new race without warning me." Amon placed the pen on the desk. "So what do you actually want?"

"Nothing."

"Lie."

Vergil spun Mjölnir over one finger.

"I am merely warning you in case Odin decides to attack while I am away."

Amon did not react immediately.

Vergil’s smile grew slightly.

"But I am certain the most powerful demon in the Underworld can hold back the All-Father’s armies, right?"

The pen returned to Amon’s fingers.

"Do not try it."

"It would be shameful to depend on a teenager like me."

The pen cracked.

A fracture appeared along its center.

Vergil continued, observing her effort to remain controlled.

"You govern the capital. You possess legions, Archdukes, ancient nobles, and the entire political structure of the Underworld. Imagining that you would need me to face a few Norse gods would be humiliating."

Amon broke the pen in half.

Ink ran across the gloved fingers.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and placed the pieces on the desk with great care.

Vergil waited.

"Hey, you little shit," Amon began in a frighteningly calm voice. "You already killed Astaroth, turned my council into a crisis, threatened my authority in front of three Archdukes, and left a stolen divine bridge crossing the sky of my realm. What else do you want, you gigantic son of a—"

Amon opened her eyes.

The edge of the desk was empty.

Vergil had already disappeared.

Mjölnir as well.

She remained motionless for several seconds, staring at the point where he had been sitting. Then she looked at the broken pen, the spilled ink, and the documents that still needed to be signed.

Amon slowly returned to his male form.

"I hate that bastard."

A feminine voice came from the corridor.

"You look very pretty like that."

Amon turned his head.

Paimon peeked through the doorway with an enormous smile.

"You were listening?"

"Perhaps."

"Leave."

"Vergil said he would fuck you."

"GET OUT!"

Paimon disappeared laughing before a mass of demonic energy crossed the doorway and destroyed part of the corridor.

...

Brynhildr and Sigrun were gathered with Selene in one of Sparda’s administrative rooms. On the table lay maps of the city, housing lists, skill records, unit distributions, and reports on the adaptation of the new Aethernox. Gwen had done surprisingly efficient work during the first few hours, but integrating twelve thousand people into a developing nation still demanded constant decisions.

"Four hundred and thirty requested training outside the military sector," Sigrun said, reading through a list. "Most are interested in medicine, food cultivation, construction, and administration."

Selene nodded.

"That is good. Sparda needs all of those things."

Brynhildr examined another report.

"Two thousand eight hundred wish to remain in military roles. Others want to serve as patrol officers, messengers, or explorers. Some are undecided because they never had the possibility of choosing anything different."

"They do not need to decide immediately," Selene replied. "The housing is temporary, but no one will be expelled for taking time."

Brynhildr placed the paper on the table.

"Thank you."

Selene raised her face.

"You have already thanked me three times."

"It still feels insufficient."

Brynhildr looked through the window. From that room, several Valkyries could be seen walking through Sparda’s streets. Some practiced with their new wings over an open area, while others spoke with merchants, soldiers, and builders. There was confusion, curiosity, and minor communication problems, but none of them appeared regretful.

"I have never seen my sisters so happy," Brynhildr admitted. "And some of them are very old."

Sigrun raised her eyes.

"You are old too."

Brynhildr stared at her.

"You understood what I meant."

"I did."

Selene held back a laugh.

Brynhildr continued, "For some, this is the first time in thousands of years that they woke without receiving an order. One commander spent the entire morning walking through the city because she still could not believe no one would punish her for not working."

Selene placed both hands on the table.

"It is as Vergil said. Freedom does not mean the absence of responsibility. It means being able to choose which responsibilities you are willing to accept."

A masculine voice spoke beside her ear:

"As my wife said."

Selene froze.

An arm passed around her waist, and the world around her changed position before she understood what was happening. By the time she realized where she was, she was already sitting on Vergil’s lap in a chair that had not existed several seconds earlier.

Her face turned red immediately.

"V-V-Vergil."

He kept one hand around her waist and the other resting on the chair’s arm. Mjölnir remained attached to one side, while Yamato rested at the opposite hip. The scar left by Gungnir was still visible on his left arm, but his energy already appeared completely stable.

"How are things?" Vergil asked, looking at Brynhildr.

The Valkyrie leader observed Selene for one second, then decided to show mercy and not comment on the situation.

"Better than we expected."

She stood and bowed her head slightly.

"Thank you for everything."

"You do not need to thank me."

"I do. My sisters received housing, food, and the ability to choose only hours after arriving. None were disarmed, separated, or interrogated as prisoners."

"It is merely the right thing to do."

Vergil began slowly stroking Selene’s black hair. His fingers passed along the side of her head, rearranging several strands that had escaped the braid. Selene remained completely rigid on his lap, uncertain where to place her hands.

He looked at Brynhildr.

"Were there any adaptation problems?"

"Some demons were confused. Most accepted our presence, especially after learning the transformation had been performed directly by you. There were comments and arguments, but nothing serious."

Sigrun spoke more frankly.

"Two merchants refused service. A group of soldiers called several of the younger ones divine deserters. Gwen handled part of it before it became a fight."

Vergil stopped stroking Selene for a moment.

"If the problems continue, send all of them to prison."

Brynhildr blinked.

"All of them?"

"The ones responsible."

"For how long?"

"Discrimination is ten years in prison."

Selene finally managed to turn her face toward him.

"Vergil, we do not even have a law with that sentence."

He kissed her cheek.

"We do now. Right, darling?"

Selene opened her mouth.

No words came out.

Her face grew even redder, and her ears began following the same change in color. She tried looking toward Brynhildr and Sigrun, but both had assumed extremely serious expressions while clearly struggling not to laugh.

Vergil resumed running his fingers through her hair.

"Right?"

Selene took a deep breath.

"You cannot create laws by kissing my cheek."

"I just did."

"That is not a legal procedure."

"You are a goddess. Validate it."

"That is not how it works."

Sigrun coughed discreetly.

"Perhaps we can discuss the length of the sentence later."

Selene gave her a betrayed look.

Brynhildr nodded with false seriousness.

"I agree. The principle seems reasonable."

"You two are not helping," Selene murmured.

Vergil appeared satisfied.

"Then it is settled."

"It is not."

He ignored her and turned toward Sigrun.

"I need you to maintain the organization until I return. Gwen will handle civil integration, but you know the units better than she does."

Sigrun immediately became serious.

"Where are you going?"

"Helheim."

The atmosphere changed.

Brynhildr straightened her posture.

Vergil continued, "I am going to visit Hela and search for Frey. Brynhildr is coming with me. I need her to use Gjallarhorn and help with the other three thousand Valkyries."

Sigrun looked toward Brynhildr.

"Do we have contact with any of them?"

"Little," Brynhildr replied. "Hela confirmed fewer than half. The others are trapped in the lower routes or isolated in regions that do not respond to her authority."

Vergil nodded.

"The Bifröst should open a passage to Helheim, but Gjallarhorn is necessary to call the scattered units. If they can still recognize Brynhildr’s signature, we have a chance of gathering them."

Sigrun closed the documents in front of her.

"I should go as well."

"No."

"My place is beside the commander."

"Your place is here now."

She fell silent.

Vergil maintained a calm tone.

"Twelve thousand people just abandoned the only structure they ever knew. Brynhildr needs to go to Helheim, and someone must maintain command while she is gone. That person is you."

Sigrun accepted the logic, although she did not seem satisfied.

"How long?"

"I do not know."

"That is not reassuring."

"It was not meant to be."

Brynhildr gripped Gjallarhorn, which was secured across her back.

"When do we leave?"

"Now."

Selene finally managed to move enough to try standing from his lap. Vergil tightened his arm slightly around her waist, keeping her seated.

"You only just woke up," she said.

"I already rested."

"You were wounded by Odin."

"I already healed."

"Are you certain?"

Vergil raised the scarred arm.

The scar remained, but there was no instability around it.

"Yes."

Selene examined his face, searching for signs of exhaustion. She did not find the same symptoms Sapphire had shown before. Even so, she knew Vergil well enough to understand that standing did not mean being completely recovered.

"Come back whole," she said.

He leaned closer and kissed her cheek again.

"I intend to."

Selene closed her eyes, defeated by her own embarrassment.

Vergil finally allowed her to stand.

Brynhildr adjusted her spear, confirmed that Gjallarhorn was secure, and positioned herself beside him. Sigrun gathered the reports and assumed the place the commander was leaving behind.

Before opening the portal, Vergil looked toward Selene.

"Take care of my new subjects."

"I was already doing that before you appeared, placed me on your lap, and created a law without consulting anyone."

"Excellent work."

She crossed her arms.

"Go away."

Vergil smiled.

Yamato partially left its sheath and opened a cut through space. On the other side, the Bifröst appeared, shining over Sparda’s territory and awaiting the first journey under its new authority.

Brynhildr crossed first.

Vergil followed.

The portal began to close.

Selene still managed to hear his voice from the other side:

"Ten years."

"I AM GOING TO REVISE THAT LAW!" she shouted.

The cut closed.

Sigrun remained staring at the empty space for several seconds before turning toward Selene.

"Is he always like that?"

Selene placed a hand over the cheek Vergil had kissed.

"Unfortunately."

She tried to maintain an irritated expression.

Failed.

"Almost always."

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