My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 629

Capítulo 629: Alliance between Enemies.

Yama paced back and forth in the very center of Hell, like a caged beast. Each step cracked the floor. The purple flames that normally only circled her feet now surged up her legs, swaying aggressively. She gnawed her thumbnail until it bled, but she didn’t even notice. She was blinded by rage.

The entire hall trembled with her anger.

“Bastard… BASTARD!” she screamed, kicking the table where the competitors’ records were kept. The papers flew, some burning instantly on contact with her infernal energy.

Vergil. That name repeated in her head like poison.

Everything was supposed to be perfect. Ryomen Sukuna was supposed to have paved the way for her to win the Celestial Tournament. She had invested time, energy, deals, threats, rituals… everything to mold Sukuna into the ultimate trump card.

And then, in the blink of an eye, in a fight that wasn’t even part of her plan, he turned to dust.

Dust. Nothing. Zero.

Yama squeezed her own neck in frustration and screamed, releasing a demonic pressure so strong that several nearby walls shattered at once. Cracking sounds echoed through hell like thunder.

She was completely out of her mind.

“YEARS! YEARS OF WORK!” She kicked one of the columns and knocked it down as if it were made of clay. “I’m going to rip that damned demon king’s head off!”

She pulled at her hair, furious, continuing to pace back and forth. No subordinate dared enter. Those who had tried earlier were passed out in the corners, bleeding from their eyes, unable to withstand her aura.

Yama needed a replacement for Sukuna. Fast. Strong. And at the same time, manipulable enough to follow orders.

But there was no one with the same raw potential that Sukuna possessed.

She kicked another pillar. It flew off, crashed through three walls, and vanished into the darkness.

“And now?! WHAT DO I DO?!” she screamed to herself. “I lost my trump card! I lost my plan! I lost—”

“You seem stressed…”

The voice entered the hall as if it didn’t respect the rules of that place. It was light… mocking… and completely out of place amidst the storm of fury Yama was creating.

She froze.

Her head turned slowly, her eyes gleaming a deep red.

High on one of the shattered walls sat a man with his legs crossed and a lazy smile on his face. He seemed as at ease as someone sitting on a park bench.

High, relaxed, without a hint of apprehension.

“Want a massage?” he added, tilting his head to the side.

Yama narrowed her eyes, the air around her vibrating. “Who. Are. You.”

The man yawned, as if he had just woken up. His skin was too pale, almost grayish. His eyes were a shade of blue, somewhere between blue and green.

A person of unknown level. Who invaded her hell… Without dying instantly?

“Me?” He pointed to himself, with a smile that instantly irritated. “Just a tourist. Strolling. I saw you yelling and thought, ‘Wow, this woman urgently needs to relax her shoulders.'”

Yama raised her hand. A hellish circle formed behind her, ready to explode.

“If you take one more step in that insolent tone of voice, you’ll evaporate—”

He was in front of her.

Yama didn’t even see him move. A moment before he was sitting on the wall. The next instant, he was less than an arm’s length away, leaning forward to get a better look at her, as if examining a broken work of art.

“You really need a new competitor, don’t you?” “He said with an irritating smile, his voice low.

The initial shock turned to immediate anger.

Yama struck with a closed fist, aiming for his face with enough force to crush a high-ranking demon.

Her hand pierced his body like mist.

“Oops.” He smiled. “Almost got you.”

Yama took two steps back, teeth clenched. “What are you?”

He extended his hand as if offering a cordial handshake. “An ally, if you will. Or a problem, if you prefer. Depends on your mood.”

“Don’t mess with me!” she growled. “If you came in here uninvited, it’s because you want something. Speak up before I crush you into ten dimensional layers.”

He clapped slowly, deliberately, each clap irritating Yama even more.

“Straight. I like that.”

She was about to attack when something inside her finally registered a detail—not his appearance, but the feeling emanating from him. It was a presence she knew, but despised.

Demon.

A high-level demon.

He noticed the change in her gaze and gave an irritating smile.

“Ah… now you’re seeing me properly.”

Yama narrowed her eyes. “What is a demon doing in my hell? Tell me already. I hate your kind.”

He casually raised a finger.

“I came to propose an alliance.”

Yama almost laughed. “For what?”

“To completely destroy the existence of Vergil Lucifer. The fifth Demon King.”

The name made her blood boil. Yama’s energy exploded involuntarily, turning the floor into cracked glass.

The man chuckled as if he had expected exactly that reaction.

“See? I knew you’d like the subject.”

He took a few steps to the side, observing the broken throne and the wreckage Yama had caused. He seemed to enjoy it.

“It’s simple. I guarantee you win the Celestial Tournament. No tricks, no risks. I’ll clear your path.”

Yama clenched her teeth so hard the sound echoed.

“And in return?” she growled.

He crossed his arms.

“In exchange, I want the nine hearts of that Demon King. All of them. You get the victory and the vengeance you so desire. I get what I want. The alliance ends right there.”

He inclined his head toward her, smiling as if offering a gift.

“Simple. Direct. And perfect for someone as angry as you.”

Yama narrowed her eyes, still with her hands clenched into fists. The wall behind her was completely deformed, melted, and the air vibrated with the heat emanating from her body.

“I don’t make deals with strangers,” she growled. “Especially not with demons who appear out of nowhere in my own hell, as if they were strolling in a park.”

The man smiled lazily, showing no fear whatsoever.

“Fair enough. But you’re misunderstanding. I don’t work alone. In fact, I’m part of an organization.”

“Organization?” Yama raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

“Called 999.” He spoke the name naturally, as if it were a common word—but the energy that escaped him in the next instant was anything but common. It was cold, ancient, and caused an unpleasant sensation even within her.

“And what does this ‘999’ want?” she asked, maintaining her alert posture.

“To destroy the Christian Demon Kingdom and return to the demons the glory that was stolen from them,” he replied with an irritating calm, as if he were talking about the weather. “This little world of yours… is weak. Trapped in the idiotic rules of those old gods. We want to turn the tables.”

Yama clenched her teeth.

She didn’t trust any of this—but she also didn’t ignore the chance for revenge he offered.

“You speak very eloquently for someone who appeared in my territory without asking permission,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “And you still haven’t told me your name.”

He inclined his head and made a small, theatrical bow.

“You can call me Dante.” His smile widened, disturbingly calm for someone surrounded by thousands of degrees of infernal heat. Then, he waved his hand and conjured a portal.

The portal opened as if the air had been ripped from within—no light, no sound, just a rupture in reality. Yama took a step back, not out of fear, but out of sheer caution. The energy emanating from it was unnatural even by her own Hell’s standards.

Dante casually raised his hand, as if opening an ordinary door.

From the portal emerged a knight.

The armor was completely black, as if absorbing light. The lines were sharp, pointed, and pulsed with a strange energy—a demonic remnant, but… incomplete. The helmet had a narrow visor of red light, like a single eye always open, always watchful.

Each of his steps sounded metallic and firm.

There was no breath.

There was no living aura.

Yama felt immediately: this was not an ordinary demon. Nor human. Not even a hybrid.

It was something manufactured.

Dante opened his arms, proud.

“Yama, allow me to present a toy that my organization decided to take from the vault.”

The knight stopped beside him, erect, motionless, like a statue with homicidal intent.

“An artificial knight created from a fragment of a demon you surely know: the Angel of Darkness, Lucifer.”

Yama’s eyes widened for a second—just a second—before her face closed coldly again.

“You’re messing with something too big,” she commented, growling. “Fragments of Lucifer aren’t something you manipulate like that.”

“For you, perhaps,” Dante replied with a crooked smile. “For us… it’s Tuesday.”

He patted the creature on the shoulder.

“This here is Angelo.”

The knight nodded slowly, recognizing the name, almost a military gesture. Dark energy pulsed in the armor, as if responding to Dante’s touch.

“He doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question,” Dante explained, twirling a finger in the air. “He was created to follow orders. He contains a soul—human, demonic, perhaps both or neither—but what matters is that he’s programmed to win.”

Yama narrowed her eyes.

“A construct.”

“A perfect soldier,” Dante corrected. “No pride, no emotion, no fear. You just need to put him in the Celestial Tournament.”

She crossed her arms, her voice heavy with doubt.

“And why should I trust that this… thing… is good for anything other than being crushed by another Demon King?”

Dante chuckled softly.

“Oh, Yama… you underestimate how hard we work on projects like this.” He stepped forward, bringing his face close to hers. “Angelo is made to kill. He was created from the most violent fragment of the angel that gave rise to the entire modern demonic lineage.”

He lifted her chin with a finger—a gesture too bold, a boldness few would dare to demonstrate in front of the Goddess of Hell.

“And more importantly…”

He smiled.

“…he’s perfect for your purposes.”

Yama slapped his hand away, pulling the touch away.

“Don’t you dare touch me like that again.”

Dante shrugged.

“Point for you. But the offer stands.”

He gestured toward the knight.

“Angelo will be your competitor. You register him, he participates, wins what he needs to win, and we both get what we want.”

“And what exactly do you want?” Yama asked, her voice colder than before.

“I already said.” Dante turned his back and began to walk as if he were in his own domain. “The nine hearts of the current Demon King. Vergil Lucifer.”

Yama clenched her fist so tightly that sparks flew from her fingers.

She hated even hearing that name.

She hated remembering that a mortal/demon hybrid had destroyed her entire plan.

The knight Angelo turned his head to her, awaiting orders, completely still.

Dante then finished, without looking back:

“Just make sure he enters the tournament… and he’ll do the rest.”

He snapped his fingers and the portal began to close, but before disappearing, Dante looked over his shoulder, his expression hiding something deeper—ambition, arrogance, or forbidden knowledge.

“Consider this the first gift of the 999.”

The portal closed, leaving Yama alone with the knight in black armor.

The temperature of her Hell rose by dozens of degrees with repressed rage.

But a smile began to form at the corner of her mouth.

Slow.

Cruel.

Calculated.

“Angelo…” she repeated, observing the creature.

The knight inclined his head slightly.

“…let’s see what you’re capable of.”