My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Vergil did not bother with ceremony.

After hearing the patrol reports, understanding how many Valkyries were still missing, and realizing that Helheim would continue drowning its own routes if no one intervened immediately, he simply left the hall with Hela, Brynhildr, Göll, and the others following behind him. The group crossed the cold corridors of the palace and returned to one of the great bridges through which the flow of souls was normally guided. The sight was terrible: row after row of spirits had piled up in silence, like a dead river that had lost its bed. There were expressionless old warriors, children clinging to their mothers’ hands, nameless kings, slaughtered monsters, and creatures whose shapes no longer resembled people at all. All of them waited for direction that never came. Helheim was not in complete collapse, but it was close enough to bother even someone like Vergil.

Without saying anything else, he raised one hand and released his energy. The Authority of Death responded first, dark, heavy, and absolute, but it did not come alone. Demonic miasma followed immediately afterward, wrapping around him like a dense fog that made even the ancient stones of the bridge tremble. The nearest souls raised their heads at the same time, as though some primordial instinct forced them to recognize something beyond simple death. Then Vergil began devouring them.

There was no explosion or dramatic spectacle. It was something much more direct, brutal, and efficient. Entire rows of souls were pulled toward him, compressed by his will, and dissolved into pure energy before any of them could resist. Their spectral forms broke apart into dark and silver particles, dissolving in the air and being absorbed by him like smaller rivers flowing into a bottomless sea. The flow was so intense that even Hela, accustomed to the movement of countless dead, had to narrow her eyes. In only a few minutes, what should have required days of organization from dozens of Valkyries was reduced to nothing. The first bridge emptied. Then the second. Then the third. And when Vergil finished, the air of Helheim seemed lighter, as though an ancient pressure had been torn away by force.

Brynhildr watched in silence for several moments before finally speaking. "With this, we have gained a few hours, perhaps a little more. Enough to concentrate all our forces on finding the missing sisters and Frey without the immediate risk of the system locking up." Her voice remained firm, but there was an obvious weight of relief behind the words. Watching thousands of souls disappear all at once without compromising the realm’s structure was no small thing.

Vergil nodded, looking over the now-empty stretch of bridge. "Good. But I do not want to depend on time. If something goes wrong and I do not return quickly, Helheim cannot fall because there are not enough hands." He raised his face slightly and called without needing to raise his voice much. "Itharine."

The shadows at his feet moved immediately. Darkness opened like dense water, and from within it emerged a woman whose presence was as elegant as it was dangerous. Itharine appeared first in human form, moving with light steps and flawless posture. Long silver hair fell in waves over her shoulders and back, the contrast with her dark clothing and reddish mantle making her look both refined and threatening. The outfit clung to her body in an almost indecent way, emphasizing a mature and impeccable figure, while her overly calm gaze reminded everyone present that her beauty was merely another face of a predator. She bowed before Vergil with natural submission, as though that land of the dead caused her no discomfort whatsoever.

"What are your orders, my master?"

Vergil pointed toward the bridges and corridors where the next souls would begin accumulating. "I want you to devour every soul that arrives and store them for me until I return. Do not let this place lock up again."

Itharine inclined her head, understanding everything without requiring further explanation. "As you wish."

The next instant, shadows consumed her body. Her human form dissolved and expanded, bones and wings forming from pure darkness until the enormous shadow dragon emerged before the main bridge. It was colossal, beautiful, and grotesque in equal measure, made of living night, with eyes glowing like embers buried inside abysses. Itharine lay down before the passage like an ancient guardian, stretching her body along the structure. When she raised her head, even the souls farther away seemed to hesitate. She spoke with the slow, deep voice of her draconic form. "I will await your return, master."

Vergil approached without the slightest hesitation and stroked the top of her monstrous head with the familiarity of someone who dealt with creatures like her every day. "I will return as soon as Frey is found."

Itharine narrowed her eyes slightly in satisfaction and settled even more comfortably across the bridge. Around them, several Valkyries stared at the scene in open surprise. Hearing stories about the Demon King and his servants was one thing; watching an enormous shadow dragon accept affection like a lethally dangerous pet was something entirely different.

Vergil then turned toward Brynhildr and, without warning, grabbed her around the waist. Before she could say anything, the two disappeared in a short teleport and reappeared inside Hela’s castle, followed shortly afterward by Göll, who practically threw herself after them. Brynhildr visibly tensed for a second. The sudden touch and unexpected closeness were enough to lightly color her face, something she tried to hide almost the instant she regained her composure.

"Warn me before doing that," she said, her voice firm although not entirely free of embarrassment.

Vergil gave her an amused sideways look and leaned just enough to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "Sure, cutie."

Brynhildr froze for an instant.

Göll, who landed immediately afterward and witnessed the entire scene, widened her eyes with completely unfiltered curiosity. "Huh? Why is Sister red?"

Brynhildr straightened with the speed of someone determined to kill the subject before it could be born. "It is nothing."

"It really looks like something," Göll commented, receiving such a severe look from her sister that she finally fell silent.

Vergil simply ignored the small chaos and returned his attention to the task. "Now we deal with the missing ones." He looked at Brynhildr. "Call all the Valkyries again. I want everyone gathered."

The call was made, and it did not take long for the great hall and adjoining courtyards to fill once again. The Valkyries arrived in groups, armed, disciplined, and still clearly unsettled by the new situation. Some were injured, others looked exhausted, but nearly all of them wore expressions mixing expectation with absolute attention. Hela watched everything from her throne with a very satisfied smile, as though she were still enjoying the entire situation far too much.

Once everyone had organized themselves, Vergil stepped several paces forward. His gaze swept across the entire formation before he finally spoke. "I am going to mark all of you with my energy. It is not a control seal. It is an anchor. If any of you disappear during the search, I will know where you are. If something tries to tear you away from Helheim’s routes, my mark will give me a trail to follow."

The murmur that moved among them was brief. No one stepped back. After everything they had already seen and heard, it sounded less like an invasion and more like a concrete guarantee that they would not be abandoned if something went wrong.

Brynhildr was the first to step forward. "Show me how it works."

Vergil nodded and gestured for her to come closer. When she stopped in front of him, he placed his hand over her lower abdomen, precisely over the area where her womb was located. The contact made Brynhildr stiffen slightly, more from surprise than resistance. His demonic energy slid into her body with absolute precision, hot and heavy, spreading in a circular line that soon appeared on her skin like a seal. The mark formed low, just beneath her navel, in the shape of a stylized heart in pink and black tones, with curved lines extending to the sides like a small tribal design.

Brynhildr felt the heat immediately. A short, dense, uncomfortable wave passed through her abdomen, making her hold her breath. Then a small sound escaped her throat before she could stop it.

It was a moan.

Low, involuntary, but perfectly audible in the silence that had formed.

Several Valkyries blushed at once. Göll covered her mouth with both hands. Hela opened a lascivious smile that almost reached her ears.

Brynhildr took one second longer than she would have liked to recover her composure. When she did, she stared at Vergil with an expression held rigidly under control, although her face was still slightly warmer than normal. "Why... there?"

Vergil removed his hand with the absolute calm of someone who saw no reason for embarrassment. "It is the best location on a woman. It is close to the reproductive and spiritual center. The mark anchors better, distributes energy more steadily, and integrates with the body’s vitality without interfering with movement."

The entire hall seemed to become a little redder after that explanation was delivered so naturally.

Some Valkyries coughed, others looked away, and several clearly did not know whether to feel offended, embarrassed, or intrigued. Göll raised one hand as though she were in a classroom, but Brynhildr glared at her before she could open her mouth.

Hela, on the other hand, was enjoying herself far too much. "So besides being strong, he also knows exactly where to put his hands," she commented lazily from the throne.

Vergil ignored her.

Brynhildr took a deep breath, felt the mark pulse once in her abdomen, and realized that, embarrassing as the process had been, the connection was real. She could feel his energy like a firm presence, distant but constant. If she were dragged somewhere strange, if some distortion swallowed her, that bond truly could serve as a guide.

She straightened her shoulders and looked toward the others. "It works. Next."

That was enough.

One by one, the Valkyries began approaching, still blushing, still exchanging strange looks among themselves, but accepting the mark. The process would soon become a long task, and the atmosphere shifted between operational seriousness and a collective embarrassment that was very difficult to ignore. Even so, no one backed away.

Because in the end, finding the missing Valkyries mattered more than pride.

And everyone there knew it.

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