My Wives are Beautiful Demons

The surroundings were desolate, consumed by the ashes of countless battles. Stella could barely feel the weight of her own body, the cold ground beneath her knees the only anchor to her confused and exhausted mind. Her body, drained of energy, trembled, and each breath was a struggle.

Before her, imposing like an inevitable entity, Ashborne watched. His black armor seemed to devour the light around him, and black and purple flames danced lazily at his sides, consuming even the very air. His presence was suffocating—not just because of the overwhelming power he exuded, but because of the weight of fate he represented for Stella.

"You are getting weaker." His voice was firm, devoid of emotion, as if merely stating an irrefutable fact. He did not mock her, nor taunt her—he simply acknowledged the brutal reality.

Stella tried to stand, but her strength refused to obey. Her pride screamed, but her body would not answer its call. The bitter taste of defeat mixed with the blood in her mouth, and she clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms.

"If you kill me… what will you gain from it?" she managed to whisper, her eyes, though weakened, still holding a spark of defiance.

Ashborne stepped forward, each footstep echoing like an omen. Dust rose around him, as if the world itself feared his presence. He stopped before her and extended his hand, his eyes glowing in shades of crimson and violet.

"I do not want your death." He tilted his head slightly. "I want us to share something beyond war. Beyond destruction."

Stella frowned, confused. He had never shown affection, never shown desire. What the hell did he want from her?

"Help me create a new being." He declared, without pretense.

The silence between them was deafening. Stella felt her chest tighten. This was not a request, not a proposal—it was a declaration.

"Create… a being?" she repeated, as if the very concept was absurd.

"An heir. A being that will carry our powers, our essence. An entity above all." Ashborne lowered his hand, his presence still crushing. "I do not seek flesh or desire—only a legacy. Something that transcends both of us."

Stella gritted her teeth. Was that it? He wanted to use her as a tool, a means to achieve a greater goal?

But part of her knew there was no choice. She was defeated, consumed by his overwhelming power. And more than that… perhaps, just perhaps, this was the only way to leave something behind besides chaos.

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the darkness surrounding her and the heavy weight of the decision on her shoulders.

"And if I refuse?"

Ashborne did not hesitate. "You will not refuse."

And deep down, she knew he was right.

Six years had passed since that fateful day.

Stella, even under the weight of her forced submission, found solace in Roxanne. The girl was her light amidst the darkness, the only thing that made her existence worthwhile. But Ashborne… he never saw her as a daughter. To him, Roxanne was an experiment.

His obsession with power transcended any bond. He believed that by merging their essences, he would create the perfect being, a worthy heir. But as the years went by, little Roxanne showed only an affinity for the winds of her mother. No spark of Ashborne's shadows or flames. And that irritated him.

On the girl's sixth winter, Ashborne decided he would wait no longer.

Stella felt it when it happened. The sudden void of presence within her own domain, the crushing force of Ashborne pulling Roxanne away. A desperation unlike anything she had ever felt filled her.

She raced through the castle, the winds howling alongside her ragged breaths. But when she finally found the chamber where Roxanne had been taken, she felt her world collapse at the sight before her.

The small girl was bound to an altar of runes, chains of dark energy coiling around her like starving serpents. Her frail body trembled, small cuts and lacerations covering her delicate skin. Roxanne's violet eyes were wide with fear, tears streaming down her pale face. But what shattered Stella's soul was the sound—the sound of her daughter's broken whisper calling out to her.

"M-mommy…"

Ashborne, as imposing as ever, observed the scene with cold detachment. His black armor radiated living shadows, and his purple flames flickered around him, reflecting the emptiness in his gaze.

"She is weak," he declared, devoid of emotion. "My blood, my essence, does not flow through her as it should. Only your insignificant power."

Stella felt her heart stop for a second. "Let her go!" she roared, the wind around her intensifying, the currents whistling with her fury.

Ashborne glanced at her, as if her rage was meaningless. "You knew this could happen. But I do not accept failures." He turned back to Roxanne, raising a hand cloaked in dark energy.

"If she cannot carry my strength, then she serves no purpose."

Stella's blood ran cold. Her body moved before her mind processed, driven by the instinct of a mother.

She would never let this happen.

"I want to seal Ashborne," Stella declared firmly, her gaze burning with determination.

Amon raised an eyebrow, reclining comfortably as a playful smile appeared on his lips.

"That sounds… intriguing, coming from you," he commented, toying with the words. "But tell me… why should I do that?"

"I'll become the Demon Queen of Sitri."

The silence that followed was thick. At that time, Stella was already one of the strongest, and many had speculated that she could one day occupy one of the demon thrones. However, no one ever believed she would accept such a thing.

She had a daughter.

She was an unpredictable risk.

And, above all, she was not someone who bowed to a title.

Amon let out a low chuckle, crossing his legs casually. "I'm sorry, darling, but that's not going to happen."

Stella didn't hesitate.

"I'll make Sapphire accept being one of the Demon Queens."

Amon's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a mix of interest and amusement.

"Now we're starting to negotiate," he teased.

Thus, the years passed, and Roxanne grew up. Everything went as expected, with her growing and becoming friends with Katharina and Ada, meeting the Demon Queens, developing a love for sweets, and finally, the story that everyone knew...

"Why am I seeing all of this?" Stella murmured, watching her memories unfold before her. She didn't want to relive this past.

"I thought it would be a good idea to understand what Roxanne meant when I asked her if she hated you," Vergil suddenly appeared beside her, not looking at her but rather at the memories floating in the air.

Stella sighed, tired. "Satisfied?"

Vergil crossed his arms, still analyzing the scenes. "I thought you were a terrible mother."

"I am," Stella responded without hesitation, her voice heavy with an old weariness.

"This says otherwise," he pointed to a bright memory floating ahead of them.

Stella shifted her gaze to the projected scene.

Roxanne's childhood voice echoed, soft and nostalgic.

"Mommy! What's this?!"

A small Roxanne, only six years old, looked up at Stella with bright eyes, holding a cupcake in both hands.

The memory belonged to a specific section of the magic Vergil used to navigate this space...

The Happiness Tab.

"This is where it all began, wasn't it?" Vergil smiled wryly, casting a suggestive glance at Stella. "The moment when mother and daughter became completely obsessed with sweets."

Stella's eyes trembled slightly, her breath faltering for a moment. Her hands clenched involuntarily, and her body shuddered in an almost imperceptible way. Discover exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire

"Stop it… please…" Her voice came out low, laden with a weight that Vergil immediately recognized. "I don't want to see this…"

He sighed, keeping his gaze fixed on the memories floating around them.

"I already suspected some things when the girls told me that Roxanne had been tortured by her parents." His voice was calm but firm. "But… even so, she never showed hatred for you. She never showed fear, disgust, or anger. On the contrary…"

He took a step closer, his hands resting on Stella's head, gently sinking his fingers into her long white hair.

"You two were just pawns in his game." His voice was lower now, closer. "And that's why, despite everything, she feels empathy for you… for a mother who couldn't prevent her pain."

Stella remained silent, but he noticed her body tremble once more.

"You told me you'd be mine if I stopped that bastard, didn't you?" Vergil asked, his voice carrying an unshakable certainty.

She didn't answer. But he heard it.

A sniffle.

Vergil smiled faintly.

"He'll never threaten you again," he whispered, leaning in a little closer. "He's dead."

Stella tried to hold it in, tried to suppress the pain as she always did. But the truth was, at that moment, she couldn't anymore.

Her shoulders began to tremble, her breathing became irregular, and then, without warning, the tears fell.

First, silently, sliding down her face as if they weren't allowed to exist. But soon, came the sobs, a restrained, almost desperate cry, as if all the weight of the years had finally found a crack to escape.

Vergil said nothing. He didn't need to.

He simply pulled Stella into his arms, holding her firmly. She didn't resist. On the contrary, her fingers clutched his clothing, as if afraid he would disappear if she didn't hold on tight enough.

She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. The sobs, once contained, now escaped uncontrollably.

Vergil ran his hand through her hair, making slow, soothing motions. "You've been holding this for a long time, haven't you?"

Stella didn't respond, just pressed herself harder against him, as if trying to lose herself in the warmth of his embrace.

"It's okay," he whispered, his deep voice carrying an unexpected softness. "You don't have to carry this alone."

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her body still shaking.

For so long, Stella had been the strength that held everything together, the relentless woman no one dared challenge. But now, in his arms, she was just Stella—wounded, broken, tired.

"You won't run from me… you're mine, Stella," he whispered in her ear as he held her.

And for the first time in years, someone was there to hold her as she finally broke down.