My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 633

Capítulo 633: Finding out about the enemy

Vergil awoke slowly, as if consciousness were returning in layers. First he heard the silence of the mansion—a true, rare silence—then he felt the gentle weight on his chest, warm, familiar.

Sapphire.

She lay on top of him, completely naked, but this carried no sexual intent whatsoever. It was simply her way of sleeping when she finally let go. Her face was buried against his skin, breathing heavily and irregularly, like someone who, after months of tension, had finally passed out. Her red hair was spread over him, still messy from the previous night—a night not of desire, but of emotional despair, of tears, of silent reconciliation.

Vergil remained motionless for a few seconds, observing.

Sapphire, the First Demon Queen.

The primordial being who terrorized heaven and earth.

The creature that reduced armies to ashes.

Sleeping like an exhausted child.

He raised a hand and ran his fingers slowly through her scalp, as if afraid of waking her. Sapphire’s breathing shifted slightly, an almost inaudible sound escaping her—not a snore, but something vulnerable, something the conscious Sapphire would never let out.

Vergil sighed.

The weight of the situation began to return, seeping into his calm state. He looked at the ceiling as he continued to stroke her head.

Sapphire and Katharina.

They were both hurt.

They were both right in their own way.

And they were both completely wrong in how they dealt with it.

He knew Sapphire was possessive, that she loved too intensely, that she held on so tightly that she sometimes suffocated. He also knew that Katharina had spent her whole life under that intensity—and when she finally found space to breathe, she distanced herself more than she intended.

Vergil understood them both.

And he hated that they were hurting each other because of it.

He took a deep breath, continuing the gentle movement through Sapphire’s hair.

“I’m going to have to put you two face to face…” he murmured softly, almost voicelessly. “Even if it’s the worst part of all this.”

Because Sapphire wasn’t going to make the first move.

And Katharina was going to wait until she died for her mother to do it.

He looked at her face—still hidden against his chest.

“Tsk… you two are going to end up killing me,” he whispered, not with irritation, but with emotional weariness. “But someone has to make the decision.”

Time passed in silence. The light weight of her breath rising and falling was the only thing moving the air.

That’s when Vergil heard something.

A footstep.

He turned only his eyes to the door—silent, ajar.

Viviane.

The maid stood there, almost invisible, as she always made sure to be when she needed to say something important. Her face was neutral, her uniform impeccable, her gaze calculated. She said nothing until she was sure Vergil had noticed.

He raised an eyebrow, in a silent question.

Viviane took a small step inside and closed the door behind her, without making a sound.

“Darling,” she said in a firm but respectful whisper, “it’s best to wake Sapphire. There are… things you need to know.”

Vergil frowned slightly. Not out of impatience—Viviane rarely brought trivial news.

He patted Sapphire’s shoulder, trying to wake her as gently as possible.

“Sapphire…” he called softly, almost in a murmur.

She didn’t answer. She only moved her head slightly, as if trying to bury herself deeper into his chest.

Viviane sighed.

“Husband… it’s really urgent.”

Vergil ran his hand down Sapphire’s back and tried to wake her again.

“Love. We have to go downstairs.”

Sapphire grumbled—a hoarse, almost animalistic sound—and pressed her hands against his torso, as if trying to grip him to prevent any attempt to move.

Viviane looked away, but maintained a firm tone.

“Lady Sapphire shouldn’t continue resting. This is too important to wait.”

Vergil sighed and tilted his head slightly, resting his forehead against hers.

“Sapphire. Wake up. Now.”

This time, Sapphire’s skin seemed to react. A slight warmth spread, her breathing became irregular, and a more conscious sound escaped.

She slowly lifted her face, her eyes still unfocused and her hair disheveled as if she had just wrestled with the pillow.

“…Vergil…” she murmured hoarsely, “why are you… waking me up? I was… comfortable…”

He cupped her face and directed her gaze to Viviane.

Sapphire blinked slowly, still sleepy—but seeing the maid’s serious expression, she woke up a little more.

Viviane crossed her hands in front of her body.

“Something’s happening,” she said simply. “Something involving the tournament.”

Vergil felt Sapphire stiffen in his arms. The sleepiness fading.

He placed a hand on her back.

“Let’s go downstairs,” he said.

Vergil descended the last steps with Sapphire beside him—still a little sleepy, but now completely alert. Her aura flickered like a muscle about to contract, clearly reacting to Viviane’s serious tone.

With each step, Vergil felt the mansion change. It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t an invasion. It was… tension. Something in the air was heavier. Denser. Even the walls seemed too silent.

When they reached the main hall, the first thing Vergil saw was the subtle steam of tea.

The second was Wukong, in her female form.

She sat on the sofa as if nothing in the world affected her—legs crossed, golden kimono falling off her shoulders in an almost careless way, her tail swaying slowly from side to side. The cup rested on her index finger, balanced as if defying gravity just to demonstrate that she could.

But her eyes…

Her golden eyes hid nothing.

They shone with concern.

Vergil stopped. Sapphire stopped with him, her body instinctively bowing slightly, more protective than anything else.

Viviane stayed a few steps behind—always present, never intrusive.

Wukong brought the cup to his lips, took a slow sip, then tilted his head toward Vergil.

“Finally awake, Little Demon King?” she said in a calm but firm voice. “I hope you slept well, because… you’ll need it.”

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

Sapphire crossed her arms, already growling softly.

“Wukong,” Vergil said in a tone that was too neutral. “Why are you here before the time we agreed on?”

Wukong placed the teacup on the table with extreme care—so careful that it betrayed the opposite. Her tail stopped wagging. Her ears recoiled slightly.

The tranquility was just a facade.

“Because you’ll need to have many tricks up your sleeve, Vergil.” “Wukong said. “Many indeed.”

Vergil felt Sapphire tense her shoulder beside him.

“Explain,” he asked.

Wukong took a deep breath—a rare movement for her.

“Something went wrong. Very wrong,” she said. “And Yama now has a new competitor for the tournament.”

Silence fell like an axe.

Sapphire frowned.

“That doesn’t make sense!” she retorted. “Yama didn’t have anyone else capable of replacing Sukuna! Who the hell did she dig up now?!”

Wukong just looked away, as if trying to find less alarming words.

He couldn’t.

“I don’t know who it is,” she admitted. “But I know that… it’s not something natural. Not alive. Not… exactly dead.”

Vergil felt a weight on the back of his neck.

Sapphire took a step forward, her eyes blazing.

“Wukong, stop talking in circles.”

Wukong stared directly at Vergil.

“It’s artificial. A conjured knight. Something that shouldn’t exist.”

She crossed her arms.

“And the energy he carries…”

Vergil looked up, attentive.

Wukong concluded, serious as rarely before in her life:

“It’s a fragment of the ancient Angel of Darkness, Lucifer. Mixed with a trapped soul.”

Sapphire stood motionless.

Viviane didn’t even breathe.

Vergil closed his eyes for a second—a single second—and let out a heavy, deep sigh, full of irritation and… exhaustion.

“…Wonderful.” he murmured. “Exactly what I needed today.”

Wukong raised an eyebrow.

“Vergil… this is no joke. He’s not just strong. He’s made to fight. To kill. And to obey.”

She leaned forward, her eyes wide with the gravity of the information:

“Yama not only found someone to replace Sukuna… she found someone who cannot be corrupted, convinced, intimidated, or tired.”

Sapphire clenched her fists, a heat flashing through her eyes.

” Who gave her this?”

Wukong blinked slowly. “A demon who introduced himself as… Dante.”

Vergil didn’t respond immediately.

In fact, he remained completely still.

One second.

Two.

Three.

And then—as if a switch had been flipped inside him—the ground trembled.

Vergil’s demonic aura exploded.

It wasn’t just power.

It was pure hatred, sharp, cold as ice and hot as the inside of a star.

The wooden floorboards regretted existing.

The walls creaked.

The temperature plummeted and rose simultaneously, as if two different hells were fighting each other.

In the kitchen at the back, Viviane—who was preparing coffee with her impeccable calm—dropped her spoon.

The metallic sound echoed through the mansion.

Wukong’s eyes widened for a brief moment, genuine surprise crossing his expression before he regained his composure. His tail bristled slightly—a very clear warning sign.

Sapphire turned to Vergil immediately, placing a hand on his arm, trying to control the situation.

“Vergil! Hey!”

But Vergil didn’t seem to hear.

The aura continued to expand, dark, bluish, full of demonic fractals opening in the air around him like cracks in reality.

Sapphire narrowed her eyes, recognizing that specific form of power.

It was murder.

Wukong, still staring intently at him, tilted his head.

“…You know him,” she stated, her voice low. “That reaction isn’t that of a stranger.”

Vergil took a deep breath, and as he controlled his own power, the aura began to recede… slowly. Very slowly. Like a hunting animal that hasn’t yet decided whether to attack or not.

When he finally opened his eyes, Vergil’s irises shone with an intense, demonic blue, cold as wet blades.

“Yes, I know him.” “Dante,” he replied, his deep voice heavy with contained fury.

Wukong waited. Sapphire waited. Viviane remained rigid in the kitchen doorway.

Vergil continued: “He’s just a little worm from an organization called 999.”