My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Walpurgis

This name, whispered only in the oldest halls of the Underworld... is an event as rare as it is terrifying in its grandeur. The very nature of the banquet makes it almost legendary: a night when demonic clans suspend rivalries, pacts, and wars to gather under a single banner... that of absolute delight.

A sacred pause in the infernal chaos.

But make no mistake, this celebration is not something you see often. The current leaders of the great demonic houses have barely participated in two or three Walpurgis in their lives. And with good reason.

Unlike their ancestors, the Primordials, such as Sapphire, Amon, Astaroth, Paimon, Sepphiroth, and Phenex, modern leaders do not usually last long at the top of their houses.

Intrigues, betrayals, palace coups, and sometimes even a simple excess of ambition shorten their reigns. Therefore, for many, participating in a Walpurgis is a feat worthy of chronicles... and survives more as legend than as memory.

However, when it happens... the entire Underworld stops.

Literally.

During Walpurgis, all demonic hierarchies are suspended. Pacts are put on hold. Invasions are stopped. Ongoing curses are temporarily sealed. It is the only night when demons from all houses, from lords to commoners, are allowed to party without restrictions. A celebration of pure hedonism, veiled strategy, and refined intrigue—all wrapped in bewitched perfumes, infernal music, and veiled promises.

You ask yourself... when was the last Walpurgis?

A fair question.

The answer: 1799.

The end of the French Revolution.

Humanity, at that moment, was experiencing an ideological earthquake. Faith was collapsing. Churches were burning. Priests were being hunted. The cult of reason and freedom trampled centuries of religious domination.

Dechristianization, militant atheism, anticlericalism... and in the midst of it all, a huge gap, completely delicious for demons.

At that time, Hell was not as disciplined as it is today. The Primordials were less bureaucratic and more instinctive. And they saw in humanity's spiritual decline a unique opportunity: to mold the desperate, the faithless, the disillusioned... into new followers.

Or rather: into new demons.

Walpurgis 1799 was a celebration not only of political or religious conquest, but of the expansion of demonic influence on a global scale. For the first time in centuries, Hell celebrated a cultural victory—not a war won with swords, but with ideas.

It was a night marked by pacts sealed amid the blood of revolts, souls harvested in the chaos of guillotines, and infernal dances to the sound of the collapse of millennial dogmas.

Walpurgis Night in 1799 sealed the modern era of Hell.

And now, after more than two centuries... it will happen again for the first time in the 21st century.

Soon after the death of the Pope.

Soon after a new Demon King is crowned.

Soon after a Primordial reappears.

But the harbinger of an irrevocable change in the balance of the Underworld, at least... That's what everyone else thought... The reality... They just wanted to put the house in order... nothing was really happening... However... the news of Walpurgis, the Banquet of the Demon Kings, leaked... And that created a big problem around the world...

[Heaven – Chamber of the Pure Firmament]

A large hall of ethereal light and floating structures, where time seemed to stand still. Golden circles spun slowly overhead, whispering ancient mathematical secrets; the columns touched neither the ground nor the sky, yet they supported infinity.

At the center, seven thrones of pure light floated in a semicircular formation, each occupied by a presence that needed no words to dominate the space. The Higher Archangels.

A crystalline mist parted, and with a light touch of sweet perfume, Uriel appeared.

Her appearance? A living insult to the image of purity that so many associated with Heaven.

Dressed in white robes clinging to her body, they were closer to celestial silk molded to lust than to traditional armor.

Uriel walked with soft steps, but they seemed to provoke earthquakes in weak hearts. Her short pink hair swayed lightly, and her body seemed sculpted not for the temple, but for perdition.

It was an irony that only God himself could justify: the Archangel of Vigilance had the appearance of a perfect succubus.

Uriel approached the circle ofthrones and, with an almost irreverent nod, said:

"Hell... is getting ready." Silence. And then she continued, with a smile that mixed provocation and concern: "They are going to hold a Walpurgis. After more than two centuries, all the demon clans are preparing for a night of unification, ritualistic freedom... and celebration."

The thrones reacted with subtle variations of light. One of them, on the left, glowed in bluish tones. Gabriel's voice, sweet but firm, echoed: "This cannot be ignored. A Walpurgis is more than a festival; it is a spiritual turning point."

Another throne glowed in intense gold. It was Michael, his voice sharp as a flaming sword: "Gather the Higher Legions. If they organize, then we prepare."

But Raphael, from the emerald throne, raised his hand, serene: "Calm down. We're talking about demons trying to act like aristocrats. This has happened before... And it ended in internal chaos. As always. Maybe we should just watch."

Uriel sighed, crossing his arms in a less than heavenly manner.

"I know you hate it when I talk to Sapphire, but I am fully aware that they are not doing anything." Uriel said with a crooked smile, "Even though Sephiroth has regained his powers and returned to action... she's not really doing anything illegal under human law either." She added.

This caused even the thrones that had been sleeping in silence to tremble slightly.

Then, from the center of the circle, a throne that had not spoken until now shone with an almost unbearable light. Metatron, the Voice of God, spoke with a gravity that resonated throughout the structures of the cosmos:

"Just watch them." He commanded, as if 'God' had commanded it.

Metatron's glow still reverberated through the ethereal walls, like thunder that needed no sound. No Archangel dared to disobey the order. "Just watch." It was the heavenly decree, and as always, definitive.

Uriel merely raised an eyebrow, with a mocking half-smile that always left her on the border between adoration and heresy.

"I said it was no big deal..." she muttered, before snapping her fingers.

At the center of the circle, between the thrones, a crystalline table began to glow. Golden runes swirled around it, adjusting coordinates, invoking ethereal images. Soon, a vision of the human world formed as a floating hologram, revealing a completely... mundane environment.

A boutique.

No, not just any store—one of those absurdly luxurious stores, with exclusive brands, where suits are tailor-made with threads that probably come from some extinct animal or arcane fabric. And there he was, Vergil Lucifer, the much-talked-about fifth demon king...

He wore a white shirt with the top three buttons open, sunglasses, and a smile of someone who is very satisfied with his infinite credit card.

"Hmm... this ruby wine doesn't complement my hair color... Bring me that pearly graffiti again, please," he said to an attendant who was sweating coldly as if he were serving royalty from a country that still practices human sacrifice.

Vergil turned in front of the mirror, analyzing the cut of the jacket, pursing his lips.

"I want something that says 'fatal elegance,' but without looking like I'm trying to take over the world. Got it?"

The attendant clearly didn't understand, but nodded vigorously.

The image froze. A deathly silence fell on the heavenly chamber.

Gabriel was the first to speak, his voice laden with disbelief... "... Is he... buying clothes?"

Miguel snorted, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. "Is this the future heir to hell?"

Raphael, always patient, put his hand to his chin with a restrained smile. "Actually... it's a good disguise. No one expects the Antichrist at a custom tailoring session."

Uriel let out a low, sensual, sarcastic laugh. "What the fuck is this, hahaha?" Uriel could only laugh.