My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Vergil’s body did not return all at once.

First came sensation.

The cold slowly disappeared, the pain in his head receding from unbearable to something that still throbbed behind his eyes, the weight of his own limbs returning as though someone were rebuilding his existence layer by layer.

Then came form.

Bones.

Muscle.

Skin.

Energy.

Consciousness.

Everything was reconstructed in silence atop an enormous treetop, where thousands of golden leaves had gathered around him like an improvised bed.

The leaves were not ordinary.

They shone with a vivid gold, pulsing in a gentle rhythm, almost as though they were breathing alongside the world itself.

Vergil slowly opened his eyes and spent several seconds simply staring at the vastness around him.

He was at the top of Yggdrasil.

Or at least in one of the highest places a being like him could reach without looking insignificant.

And even so, that was exactly how he felt.

Small.

An ant upon the body of something absurdly ancient.

Trunks as broad as continents rose in the distance, branches stretched across impossible distances, and the horizon seemed to have been replaced by natural architecture that defied any reasonable sense of scale.

The air there was clean and light, yet crushing at the same time.

Everything carried the presence of something that had existed before empires, before pantheons, perhaps even before most things that dared call themselves eternal.

Vergil slowly sat up among the leaves, bringing a hand to his head while trying to decide whether he was still alive or had been reconstructed by sheer cosmic whim.

The answer did not come from him.

"I do not usually receive visitors."

The voice came from every direction at once.

Feminine.

Calm.

But carrying such natural authority that the thought of disobeying it felt absurd.

"In fact," the voice continued, "I exist to record whether your universe remains good enough to sustain its own existence. So I would really like to know why, exactly, a demon invaded my world and began destroying it while fighting that idiotic beast."

Vergil closed his eyes for a brief moment, exhaled, and answered before even seeing who he was speaking to.

"If you wanted peace, you could have stopped Valkyries from being kidnapped into your roots. If that had not happened, I would not even be here."

There was genuine irritation in his voice.

Part of it was pride.

Part was the lingering pain from the monstrous pressure that had nearly collapsed his mind minutes earlier.

And part, perhaps the most honest part, was pure exhaustion.

He was too tired to measure his diplomacy.

The voice answered without hurry.

"You are arrogant."

Vergil raised his face, looking around more carefully.

"I am. And I can back it up."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"What I will not tolerate is my people being taken."

That was when the leaves around him began to move.

Not as though touched by wind, but as though obeying a will of their own.

They rose from the golden ground, slid over one another, and gathered into gentle spirals of light and glittering dust until a feminine shape began to emerge in the space before him.

First the outline.

Then fabric.

Then skin.

Hair.

Eyes.

When it finished, Vergil found himself looking at a dryad unlike anything ordinary.

She was beautiful in a way that did not resemble mortal women, or even goddesses in the ordinary sense of the word.

Long silver-white hair fell like liquid silk, contrasting with blue and gold details that seemed molded from constellations and ley lines.

Small golden rings floated around her, slowly rotating like fragmented halos.

Her light, ethereal dress shifted between white, deep blue, and golden reflections, as though the sap of the World Tree itself had been turned into clothing.

There was almost absolute serenity in her face.

And at the same time, an unmistakable expression of disapproval.

Yggdrasil.

Vergil did not need her to introduce herself.

She observed him like someone looking at a particularly troublesome child who had just scribbled all over the walls of creation.

"Let us begin with a simple correction," she said. "I had nothing to do with that."

Vergil raised an eyebrow.

Yggdrasil continued, crossing one arm beneath her chest while gesturing lightly with the other hand, as though organizing basic facts for a slow student.

"The Valkyries who fell into my world were gathered together by Niddrog. She placed them into a deep sleep to keep them from dying while wandering around here."

Vergil blinked once.

Then again.

"What?"

She did not even attempt to hide the reproach in her gaze.

"It is exactly what you heard. They were being protected."

Her golden eyes narrowed slightly.

"Or did you truly believe those disgusting creatures were killing your precious warriors? I am almost certain that before you began cutting apart my roots, my realm, and whatever remained of your common sense, you did not see so much as a scratch on them."

Vergil opened his mouth.

No answer came out.

Because she was right.

He remembered the pile of bodies in the nest very clearly.

He remembered quickly checking whether they were alive.

He remembered the absence of blood, serious wounds, mutilation, or any evidence of hunting.

Everything there had pointed far more toward containment than massacre.

The problem was that nobody had thought about that before choosing chaos.

Yggdrasil saw the exact moment he realized it.

"Exactly."

Vergil closed his mouth.

For the first time in a very long while, he actually looked somewhat speechless.

And things only became worse when she continued.

"Another matter."

Her voice sharpened.

"What is this business about stealing my power? Why is a demon using Primordial Chaos to connect himself to my strength?"

Now Vergil truly looked like a child caught by his mother in the middle of doing something stupid.

The comparison was humiliating.

And accurate.

He remained silent for a moment, thoughts tangled between the realization that he had invaded a natural system far above his current category and the fact that, technically, none of this had started out of pure malice.

But trying to explain that to an entity like Yggdrasil seemed exactly like the kind of idiotic decision he was, for once, wise enough to avoid.

Yggdrasil sighed as though she had already expected this level of disaster.

She floated a little higher, brought her fingers near one of the ley lines crossing the space around them, and touched it gently.

The line vibrated like a sensitive string.

In the same motion, she pulled something out of the invisible structure of the world.

"Come here, you little troublemaker."

In an instant, Qliphoth dropped to her knees on the golden ground.

She appeared stumbling, long red hair falling around her face, her body still in its usual adult and provocative form, but wearing an expression Vergil never thought he would see on her.

Pure panic.

Qliphoth raised her eyes toward Yggdrasil like someone standing before an older sister with complete authority to ruin her existence.

"Big Sister, I didn’t mean to—"

"Quiet."

The single word was so hard that space itself seemed to stiffen for a second.

Yggdrasil descended slightly, staring at Qliphoth with majestic coldness.

"Mother’s report arrived a few days ago regarding the possible problems you might cause."

She listed each point with a calm far too severe to allow hope.

"But bringing a Genesis-Class Demon into my world, attacking someone who was protecting his allies, and then setting me on fire?"

Each accusation seemed to physically weigh down Qliphoth.

She shrank a little.

Vergil instinctively tried to intervene.

"Qliphoth only wanted—"

Yggdrasil turned her gaze toward him.

There was no exaggerated hostility.

The problem was worse.

There was the firm certainty of someone who had already understood the entire situation and had absolutely no intention of listening to excuses.

"She wanted nothing. She has caused enough chaos for one day."

Then Yggdrasil snapped her fingers.

Qliphoth froze.

Her body glowed for an instant, shrank too quickly for the eye to properly follow, and when the light disappeared, the ancient demonic tree was no longer the fatal woman from before.

Now she looked like a little girl around ten years old.

Small.

Red hair falling in soft strands.

Large, watery eyes.

Round cheeks.

An absurdly delicate little dress that made her look even more harmless.

The scene would have been extremely adorable if Qliphoth had not immediately entered a state of complete despair upon realizing her new form.

"NO!" she screamed, looking at her tiny hands, then at her own body. "No, no, no, no! Change me back! Change me back right now! I want to be the hot woman who loves her new husband again!"

Vergil covered his face with one hand.

Yggdrasil did not even blink.

Qliphoth dropped to her knees—or rather, somehow dropped even more onto her knees—and crawled toward her with tears forming in her eyes.

"Big Sister, please! Please! I promise I’ll behave! I promise I won’t hack universal roots anymore! I promise I won’t set things on fire anymore! I promise I’ll be a good and obedient demonic tree! I want my boobs back!"

Yggdrasil continued staring at her with the unchanged expression of an utterly exhausted teacher.

"You will remain like this for a while."

"No! This is cruel! This is inhumane!"

"You are not human."

"That makes it worse!"

Yggdrasil ignored the flawless hysterical logic of the small Qliphoth.

With her free hand, she pulled a cone-shaped hat out of nowhere, the kind that existed solely to humiliate.

On the front, written in very visible letters, were the words:

I Am an Idiot

Vergil looked at the hat.

Then at Yggdrasil.

Then at Qliphoth.

For one second, he almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

Yggdrasil simply placed the hat on the little troublemaker’s head.

Qliphoth froze.

Her eyes began trembling.

She brought both tiny hands to the edge of the hat, read the words, and then made such a devastated expression that Vergil had to turn his face away to avoid laughing directly at her during the worst possible moment.

"This is abuse..." Qliphoth muttered, her voice cracking. "I’m going to report this toxic family environment..."

"Report it using what authority?" Yggdrasil asked serenely.

Qliphoth opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Lowered her head.

The cone hat wobbled slightly.

Vergil took a deep breath, the residual pain still throbbing in his head, and for the first time since arriving there he had the very clear sensation that he had crossed the line in an especially stupid way.

And worse than that—

the entire tree knew it.

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