My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Thunder roared on the horizon, its echoes reverberating through the darkened skies like the drums of an inevitable omen. Dense, heavy clouds gathered over the Eternal City, obscuring the light of the moon and stars. The oppressive atmosphere bore down on the Vatican, as if an unseen entity had cast its shadow upon that sacred ground.

Pope Adrian watched the storm take form from the window of his private chamber. His fingers slowly traced the pages of an ancient book, its ancestral writings glowing gold under the dim lighting of the room. But no matter how much he tried to focus, something unsettled him.

It was a cold, hollow sensation. A deep unease gnawing at his soul.

He couldn't quite explain why, but… tonight, more than ever, it felt as if God had averted His gaze.

The silence was broken by a calm voice, though it carried an underlying weight.

"Your Holiness, you should rest." Adrian didn't need to turn around to recognize the figure leaning against the door.

Alexander. Ever watchful, ever present, like a shadow that never faded. His smile was polite, yet there was something lurking behind it.

"Ah… don't scare me like that." The Pope sighed, closing the book, his eyes fixed on the omen-laden landscape as he continued, "I cannot afford the luxury of rest."

His fingers drummed lightly on the book's cover, making it glow once more in gold before falling inert.

"The other generals… where are they?" he inquired.

Alexander hesitated for a brief moment before answering, as if carefully choosing his words.

"Lariet is in Romania. Attempting… to establish contact with the vampires."

Adrian remained silent, but his gaze grew even more piercing.

"And Gordon?" he questioned.

Alexander's tone turned almost grim as he responded, "As ordered, he went to check… on that project."

At the mention of it, the air in the room grew colder.

The Pope intertwined his fingers, resting his chin on his hands as he reflected on the response.

"Any reports of failure?"

Alexander kept his gaze on the floor for an instant before looking up again.

"No, Your Holiness." He smiled—a smile devoid of warmth. "The plan is proceeding exactly as intended."

Outside, a purple thunderbolt tore through the sky.

And for the first time that night… Adrian felt fear.

BOOOOOOM!

The sky ripped apart as though a profane entity had forced its way into the world of men. The moonlight was obliterated by an all-consuming darkness, swallowed by a maelstrom of shadows and demonic energy. Black and crimson lightning slashed through the heavens like blades of pure hatred, spreading in all directions.

A suffocating presence descended upon the Vatican like an invisible poison, seeping into bones, hearts, and souls alike.

Adrian felt the pressure… It wasn't like that woman—Sapphire—but there was something even more terrifying about this. A force that didn't just dominate… it crushed.

His eyes darted toward the window.

And he saw it.

There, hovering above the Vatican's skies, stood a man at the epicenter of the chaos.

His dark mantle billowed in the violent winds that swirled around him. His eyes were twin scarlet abysses, glowing like beacons of damnation. His vast black wings, as endless as the night itself, stretched outward like a living eclipse, blocking any remnants of divine light. He didn't seem like a mere being…

He seemed like an event. A calamity.

Vergil had arrived.

DONG!

The first toll of St. Peter's Basilica echoed through the city.

At that moment, reality itself distorted. An invisible barrier enveloped the Vatican, severing it from the rest of the world. The heavens quaked. Time seemed to hesitate.

Judgment had begun.

DONG!

The faithful looked up, their prayers caught in their throats. Some fell to their knees, tears streaming down their pale faces.

DONG!

The priests clutched their rosaries, murmuring frantic prayers as if trying to ward off an unrelenting plague.

DONG!

The cardinals exchanged terrified glances, their eyes wide, sweat trickling down their foreheads. Terror consumed them before they even comprehended what was before them.

DONG!

The door to the papal chambers exploded inward, thrown with supernatural force.

Gordon rushed in, his body drenched in sweat, his eyes wide with pure fear. He collapsed to his knees on the floor, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in desperation.

"S-Santidade!!"

The Pope didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the window, staring at the demonic being hovering over the sky, as if it were hunting its prey.

Outside, the wind howled. The darkness deepened.

"What happened?" Adrian's voice was drawn, almost a whisper, as if he were trying to deny reality itself.

Gordon swallowed hard, trembling.

"Zex and Iridia defected… They… They found part of the experiments." Silence. Adrian felt a chill run down his spine.

But before he could react—

"I found you."

The voice came so close it froze the air in everyone's lungs.

And then, impossibly, he was there.

Vergil, casually seated on Gordon's back, as if making himself comfortable in an improvised throne.

Gordon, still kneeling, was forced onto all fours, his breath faltering as he felt the overwhelming weight on him.

Alexander's eyes widened. The Pope finally turned his head slowly to face the intruder.

"Shall we talk?"

Vergil smiled. A sharp smile. A predatory smile.

The Pope took an involuntary step back. His instincts screamed at him to flee, to distance himself from the creature before him.

Unlike Sapphire... this man...

"Lucifer." His voice trembled, almost a whisper.

Vergil laughed, a low, amused sound, but filled with something indescribable.

"Oh... someone did their homework." He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with pure entertainment. "Not so long ago, and you already know my new name..."

Vergil Lucifer, The Fourth Demon King.

Gordon felt his body freeze, every muscle paralyzed by the absolute terror consuming him. His heart hammered in his chest, and yet, it felt as though the blood had drained from his face.

"Q-Fourth Demon King!" Gordon stammered, feeling the crushing weight of that simple statement.

Vergil calmly rose from Gordon's back, as if stretching after a comfortable rest. Then, without warning, he spun his body and delivered a devastating kick.

The impact was brutal.

The sound of Gordon's bones breaking was drowned out by the deafening crash of the wall splintering. His body was launched like a projectile, tearing through the structure with violence, breaking columns and cracking the floor as it passed. Each time it hit a new surface, the destruction spread like a wave.

When it finally stopped, buried in the rubble, all that could be heard was the echo of the impact and the dust settling in the heavy air of the Vatican.

"Now that the clown is out of commission, let's talk." Vergil threw himself into an ornate chair, crossing his legs with elegance, as if simply enjoying the view.@@novelbin@@

He rested his chin on his hand and smiled, a sharp, predatory grin.

"So, tell me… how are we going to resolve this?"

"R-Resolve? What is there to resolve?! We've done nothing!" Alexander stepped forward, his voice filled with nerves.

Vergil didn't even glance at him. He simply raised an eyebrow and muttered with disdain:

"Shut up. I'm talking to your boss, puppy."

Humiliation burned in Alexander's gaze, but he didn't dare respond.

On the other hand, Adrian remained firm.

"I haven't done anything to you, Demon King." His voice was serene, but carried a calculated weight.

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Vergil laughed. A low, almost amused laugh.

"Ah, yes... sending those two to steal from me and kill me was nothing? Well, whatever. They don't matter anymore. I'll take care of them, because unlike you, I honor my beliefs."

His gaze turned to Adrian, and the air in the room seemed to grow denser.

"Now, how about you explain why..."

His eyes glowed a threatening red.

"Children are being used as experiments?"

The silence that followed was more suffocating than any scream of despair.

Vergil sighed, tilting his head to the side, as if disappointed.

"Ah, of course... the ends justify the means. Why should I expect you to explain yourself before I massacre all the faithful in your rotten little world?" His voice was laced with sarcasm, but his aura said otherwise.

The pressure around him began to grow, heavy, suffocating. The air flickered, as if the very space was twisting before his presence.

But before he could take the next step, something came quickly—a devastating kick, so violent that it made the entire room tremble.

Vergil raised his arm, blocking the blow at the last instant. The impact, however, was so brutal that the wall behind him simply exploded.

BOOOOOOOM!

Vergil was thrown out of the building, crashing through rubble and columns, until he landed in the air, hovering above the Vatican as if nothing had happened.

Amid the dust and debris, a figure emerged from the shattered opening.

Alexander.

He spun a bayonet between his fingers, his gaze fierce and filled with fury.

"Hey, you son of a bitch... Bow when you talk to His Holiness." The threat oozed arrogance, his tone dripping with venom. "Sapphire's not here to protect you, puppy."

Normally, Vergil would have just laughed. He would have mocked, played with the situation.

But something in his words… something in that tone full of disdain…

His eyes glowed a deep red. His presence, once provocative and relaxed, shifted in an instant.

"Repeat that." His voice came out low, but filled with something primal.

Alexander smiled, confident.

"I said… your mistress isn't here to protect you, you bastard—"

He didn't finish the sentence. Because, before he could blink, Vergil was already before him. Too fast. Too violent.

The impact came without warning.