My Wives are Beautiful Demons

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

The impact came without warning.

The silence shattered in an instant.

Their arms collided.

St. Peter's Basilica trembled as the shockwave tore through the walls. Vergil was once again hurled outside the building, his silhouette cutting through the air like a meteor before crashing onto the ground. The sacred marble cracked beneath his feet, but he did not fall.

His absurd regeneration, his demonic presence, made him an entity that could not simply be crushed.

Above him, hovering like a predatory bird, was Alexander. His coat billowed in the wind, charged with electricity, and in his hands, sanctified bayonets glowed with a lethal radiance. His eyes were filled with divine fervor, a manic grin splitting his face.

Vergil wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his lips and chuckled. "Interesting."

Alexander descended in a flash of light. Vergil raised his sword at the last second, blocking the holy blade with a deafening crash that echoed through the Vatican. The impact sent them both skidding back—but only for a moment. Then, they launched at each other again, each clash of their weapons creating a storm of sparks and shockwaves.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Vergil moved like a specter, his strikes precise, refined, lethal. Each slash of his blade aimed to end the fight in an instant. But Alexander… he was not human. No matter how many times Vergil cut him, he regenerated instantly. Deep wounds sealed the very second they appeared, while bayonets swarmed in all directions, forcing Vergil to leap, dodge, and adapt.

"You know what I love about monsters like you?" Alexander roared, firing a volley of bayonets at Vergil, who deflected and evaded at the last moment. "You bleed just like any other damn sinner!"

Vergil narrowed his eyes. His speed increased. A short teleport, a burst of shadows—and then, he was behind Alexander, his blade already descending to sever the hunter's head.

"Fast…" Alexander murmured, twisting at the last moment. "But not fast enough!"

A spear of light exploded from Alexander's chest, forcing Vergil to retreat as sacred energy scorched his demonic skin. Before he could recover, Alexander was upon him again, striking with a brutal sequence of slashes and thrusts. Stay connected with My Virtual Library Empire

The holy city trembled around them. Structures collapsed from the sheer intensity of their battle. The ground was covered in debris and embers. Black and golden lightning streaked across the night sky as the war between Chaos and Faith raged on without respite.

Vergil took a step back and laughed. "You regenerate fast… But I wonder if your soul does too."

Alexander grinned fiercely. "Try your luck, demon."

And so, the fight resumed, fiercer than ever. Blades of Chaos against sanctified weapons. Divine wrath against pure destructive power. Rome's night would never be the same again.

Vergil's laughter grew louder, wilder. Alexander couldn't tell what unsettled him more in that moment: the way Vergil bled yet seemed unfazed, or the insane glint in his crimson eyes.

Vergil cracked his neck and spun his blade in his hand. "You know, I try to hold back… try to act like a rational being… But you… you're making me anxious."

Alexander narrowed his eyes, his instincts screaming at him not to give the demon a second of respite. But it was already too late.

Vergil vanished.

For a brief moment, the world seemed frozen. Then, an explosion of black energy engulfed St. Peter's Square. Columns crumbled, sacred statues were obliterated, and the divine light that once permeated the Vatican was swallowed by suffocating darkness.

When Alexander reappeared, he was embedded in a wall, his regeneration struggling against the absolute destruction ravaging his body. Vergil stood before him, gripping his face with a single hand, squeezing hard enough to fracture his immortal bones.

"You talk too much, priest."

With a flick of his wrist, Vergil hurled him into the sky, teleporting above him in an instant and greeting him with a brutal kick to the stomach, sending him crashing to the ground with such force that the earth itself split.

Alexander rose from the rubble, coughing blood, but laughing. "You're not the only one having fun, demon."

His eyes burned with golden flames. His body ignited with the energy of unwavering faith. The sanctified blades in his hands began to multiply, forming a deadly storm around him.

"Let's see if your power survives divine judgment!"

Vergil spread his arms, his aura expanding into a mantle of darkness and chaos. "Then judge me! Let's see which of us is the true calamity!"

The bayonets shot toward him like a celestial tempest. Vergil charged straight into them—fearless, unflinching. Some blades pierced him, but his regeneration and fury ignored any pain. He cut through the storm like a predator tearing through a flock of lambs.

Alexander met him in the midst of the chaos, blade against blade. Their strikes exchanged at impossible speeds. The ruins of the Vatican bore witness to a duel so intense that reality itself seemed to distort around them.

Then, Vergil finally lost his mind.

His eyes burned like smoldering embers. His laughter was pure insanity. "Enough playing around, Alexander! Let me show you what happens when a true monster stops holding back!"

Darkness fused around him, his body distorting into something greater, more grotesque. His eyes multiplied, shadowy arms sprouted from his back. His blade pulsed with an unholy glow. This was no longer a fight between a man and a demon.

It was a battle between a divine fanatic and the very concept of chaos.

Alexander tried to attack, but it was too late. Vergil seized him, his black claws piercing straight through his chest. "You're nothing but a little dog barking at the moon, priest."

He lifted him high into the air. "Now shut up and disappear."

With a brutal motion, Vergil tore Alexander in half.

Blood poured in divine and profane torrents, scorching the ground, scorching the air. But Vergil laughed. Laughed like a god who had just crushed an inconvenient insect.

Silence fell over Rome like a funeral shroud.

"That was fun…" Vergil licked his lips, tasting the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air. His crimson gaze swept over the ruins of the Vatican before settling on the terrified survivors. He flashed a sharp grin. "Who's next?"

The Pope tried to speak, but he never got the chance.

In the blink of an eye, Vergil was already in front of him.

His hand closed around Adrian's throat like an iron shackle. The Pope gasped, his frail hands struggling in vain to pry the grip loose.

"Well, well…" Vergil tilted his head, like a predator savoring its victory. "I've already taken down two of your generals… Now, how about you tell me exactly what your plans were for those children?"

Adrian's eyes widened. His mouth opened in a strangled gasp, searching for air… or maybe trying to come up with an excuse.

But before he could react—

FWOOOSH!

Something sliced through the air like a lightning bolt, coming toward him at absurd speed.

Vergil sensed it at the last moment.

With an instinctive motion, he raised his free hand and caught the object with a firm grip. The impact cracked the ground beneath his feet.

It was a staff. Or rather, the tip of one.

Vergil narrowed his eyes, spinning the weapon between his fingers while his gaze scanned the destruction around him, searching for its owner.

Then, he saw him.

A figure standing atop the Vatican's ruins. The man had an imposing stance, arms crossed, a confident—almost arrogant—smile painted on his face. His gaze was sharp, fearless, and an almost divine aura emanated from him.

"Sorry, kid…" The stranger's voice echoed with absolute calm, yet carried an ancient weight. "Do you have any idea what you're about to do? Do you really want to start a divine war?"

Vergil studied the man for a moment, but his attention was quickly drawn to the staff in his hand.

'One of the Heroes…'

Katharina had spoken of them. Chosen warriors, protected by mythical weapons forged in the age of gods. But what truly caught his interest wasn't the warrior…

It was the weapon.

'So this is—'

Before he could finish the thought, the staff moved on its own.

With a will of its own, it tore free from his grip and spun in a perfect arc back to its master.

Vergil smiled, his eyes gleaming with a mix of interest and savagery.

"Interesting..." he murmured, but then he remembered a specific phrase from Sapphire.@@novelbin@@

His wife's voice echoed in his mind, clear as a demonic symphony.

"Under no circumstances, let yourself be defeated by someone wielding that damn fake staff!"

The memory made his smile widen, turning into something even more insane. His eyes burned with a thirst for battle that was almost palpable as he stared at his new opponent.

"Bearer of the Ruyi Jingu Bang... The Hero who follows in the footsteps of the Peerless Sage of the Heavens." His voice overflowed with amusement and anticipation, every word dripping with a predatory weight.

The Hero raised the staff with a slight spin, observing Vergil with a studied calm.

"It's good to know the target of my master." His response was firm, with no sign of reverence, just a sharp and determined gaze.

Vergil laughed, a sharp sound full of sadistic pleasure.

"Oh, so I've become the target of someone as peerless as him?" His voice dripped with provocation, but... his existence screamed inwardly...

Attack him... Destroy him... Take his life... It was a softly destructive voice, chaos incarnate...