My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 577

Chapter 577: Fight and decide for yourselves

Fine dust still hung in the air, clouding the crimson horizon that stretched beyond the Abyss’s crater. Heat emanated from the ground like a living breath, distorting the shadows, transforming them into specters dancing among the rubble.

In the center of that desert of stone and fire, Vergil stood motionless, the Yamato resting beside him, embedded in the ground. The blue energy of his aura shimmered, calm and steady—like the surface of a lake before a storm that never reaches it.

Before him, Ingrid Asmoday was breathing heavily. Her back was arched, her black wings torn, her body covered in shadowy cracks that moved as if trying to escape her skin. She still struggled, but her pride weighed more heavily than her body.

“You’re getting slow,” Vergil commented, his calm, almost polite tone making the provocation even worse.

Ingrid growled. The sound sounded like a wounded animal. “I haven’t even started yet…”

She raised her hands, and the surrounding shadows reacted like a swarm. The cracked ground was swallowed by darkness, and pillars of darkness rose around Vergil. The light disappeared for an instant—and the field turned pitch-black.

But Vergil didn’t move.

In the darkness, his blue eyes lit up, like two slits of light cutting through the night.

“Shadow manipulation…” he murmured. “Interesting.”

From within the darkness, dozens of Ingrid’s copies emerged, each wielding blades made of pure void. They advanced simultaneously, swiftly, slicing the air in deadly synchrony.

Vergil sighed.

With a single wave of his hand, the Yamato disappeared from the ground and reappeared in his grip.

The sound that followed was barely audible—a sharp note, the sound of air splitting.

The shadows were cut before they could even reach him.

Within seconds, the field was illuminated once more by the blue aura.

The fragments of the copies fell to the ground like mist.

Ingrid, now on her knees, watched silently, her eyes wide and incredulous.

Vergil stepped forward, his presence making the air tremble.

“You’re repeating the same mistakes,” he said, his tone cold as ever. “You rely too much on form, not purpose.”

She gritted her teeth, pride burning more than her wounds. “You think you know purpose, half-demon?”

Vergil looked up at the reddened sky. “I don’t think so. I know.”

Anger flared within her. The shadows responded to the feeling like a living being. The ground began to writhe, and darkness condensed into tentacles that reached toward Vergil.

They grabbed him, wrapped around his body, and pulled him into the crater.

Ingrid stood, her chest heaving.

“Let’s see how much you talk when the Void swallows you.”

The shadow consumed him completely. The ground vibrated, and the sound that followed was low, almost guttural—as if something ancient had awakened.

But then, the world shattered.

A blue light tore through the center of the crater, slicing through the darkness like lightning.

The tentacles were torn apart, the dark energy shattering into fragments.

Vergil reappeared floating above the abyss, his sword encased in pure energy.

His expression remained the same—calm, but with a curious glint in his eyes.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Your shadows aren’t just illusions. They have weight. Life.”

Ingrid clenched her fists. “It’s the gift of my blood. Asmoday gave it to me.”

“And yet…” Vergil planted his feet on the ground, staring at her, “…you’re incapable of using it properly.”

Ingrid felt pride boil in her veins.

The shadows behind her began to rise again, taking different forms—wolves, serpents, humanoid figures with fiery eyes.

She smiled, baring her fangs. “Then look carefully, half-demon.”

The monsters advanced, and the ground became a sea of ​​darkness. The entire field disappeared under her influence. The shadow expanded, covering miles around.

Vergil slowly raised the Yamato.

“Do you truly want to see what power is?”

He took a single step.

Blue energy exploded from his body, cutting through space in perfect lines.

The wolves were undone before they touched the ground. The serpents evaporated. The human figures dissolved into particles of light.

Ingrid looked around, despair replacing fury.

Nothing remained.

Vergil stood before her again—untouched, serene.

“Strength isn’t how many forms you create,” he said quietly. “It’s how many times you can destroy and rebuild without losing control.”

She tried to attack him again, but he moved first.

The Yamato streaked through the air.

It didn’t cut flesh. It cut shadow.

Her power shattered like glass. The darkness around her dispersed in swirls, revealing the cracked ground and the crimson sky once more.

Ingrid staggered back, coughing up blood.

The Void energy surrounding her fragmented, unable to reassemble itself.

Vergil approached slowly, unhurriedly.

“You are powerful,” he admitted with cold sincerity. “Powerful enough to face a general of the Underworld. But it’s still nothing that can touch me.”

She looked up, her pupils burning with hatred. “And what makes you so special, Vergil?”

He stopped a few feet away from her. His blue aura flickered softly.

“I don’t seek to destroy the world. I only want to understand where it breaks.”

For a moment, silence fell. Ingrid stared at him, breathing heavily.

Despite the pain, there was something new in his gaze—not just anger, but a spark of respect.

She tried to speak, but Vergil turned his face toward the horizon.

“Your shadow technique… is more refined than I imagined.” He glanced at her. “If you honed it, you could rival any noble in Hell.”

Ingrid frowned suspiciously. “Are you complimenting me?”

“I’m making a statement.” He swung the Yamato and sheathed it in a single motion, the sound of steel echoing like distant thunder. “And also making a statement that you’re still weak.”

The final blow was invisible.

The wind passed, and the ground in front of Vergil split in a straight line that cut across the entire crater.

Ingrid looked down—and noticed the thin blue line that cut through his clothes, without touching his skin.

A warning.

Vergil put his hands back in his pockets.

“I know what you wanted.”

“And what would that be?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“To test your strength.” He glanced at her sideways. “And confirm if there’s still anything in this hell that can entertain me.”

Ingrid bit her lip, her pride wounded and her heart racing.

She hated to admit it, but that look—that icy disdain—made her want to fight again.

Vergil turned his back.

The wind blew, carrying with it the metallic scent of blood and the echo of power.

“Let’s go to my house,” he said without looking back. “You will fight my three wives, and see if you can defeat them.”

…Present times…

The silence inside the mansion’s great hall was almost suffocating.

The flames crackled softly in the fireplace, casting golden reflections on the black marble and red-tinted stained glass. The light danced across the walls, as if trying to follow Vergil’s colossal presence, who remained seated in the central armchair.

He was relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, his arm resting on the backrest, and that ice-blue gaze took in each of them—Katharina, Ada, Roxanne, Sapphire, Viviane… and, standing off to the side, arms crossed and expression tense, Ingrid.

It was clear no one there was breathing naturally.

Vergil had just finished his story. The fight, the abyss, the shadows, the challenge.

And what most filled the air wasn’t his power—it was the fact that he had brought Ingrid home, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Katharina, leaning against the wall with her injured arm after training, was the first to break the silence.

“So, just so I understand…” she arched an eyebrow, the fire in her body reflecting in her eyes, “…you went to play in hell, destroyed half a crater, and brought home a woman. Is that right?”

Vergil tilted his head slightly, a subtle smile on the corner of his mouth. “Basically.”

Ada huffed, crossing her legs on the sofa. The blood around her fingers still vibrated, as if she hadn’t calmed down from her workout. “‘Basically,’ he says…” she murmured. “All this while we thought he was meditating.”

Roxanne, always more restrained, sighed and leaned back in her chair, but the subtle wind swirling around her betrayed her discomfort. “You could at least warn me before bringing enemies into the mansion.”

Ingrid, who had remained silent until then, immediately retorted:

“I’m not anyone’s enemy here.”

Katharina let out a short laugh. “Really? Because the way you’ve been looking at me since you walked in screams ‘I want to rip your head off.'”

Ingrid took a step forward, the shadows around her feet rippling slightly. “It’s hard to respect someone who lives in another’s shadow.”

The air shifted. The temperature rose in a matter of seconds—Katharina’s fire reacted, and the thin air seemed to crackle.

But before she could say anything, Vergil spoke.

“Enough.”

The word was spoken simply, but the power that accompanied it made all the lights in the hall flicker.

The fire in the hearth receded. Roxanne’s wind died. Even Ingrid’s shadows wavered.

Sapphire, who had been watching everything from the side of the stairs, took a deep breath and crossed her arms. Her gaze was calculating, but there was a flash of irritation.

“So she’s going to participate in the tournament too?” she asked, without taking her eyes off Vergil.

“No,” he replied bluntly. “I want you two to fight and see who goes. One of you three, or her.”

He then stood and sighed. “In the meantime, I’m going to check on my generals, and I’m also going to survey the territory. Can you take care of that for me, love?” he asked, smiling at Sapphire.