My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Sapphire, now with her face partially covered in blood, her hair disheveled, and her clothes in tatters, dug her hands into the ground as she rose again—or tried to. Morrigan had left her there, temporarily abandoned on the ground like a broken doll. But the Celtic warrior's gaze still glowed with an ancient hunger, an almost childlike pleasure in dismantling anything that offered resistance.

Sapphire spat blood to the side and shouted, her voice heavy with rage and frustration: "Stop using your shitty tricks to seal my killer aura!!!"

Her aura flickered around her body, trapped, sealed in invisible layers of enchanted energy. Her killer power—normally pulsing and suffocating like toxic smoke—now seemed contained, like a beast trapped inside a glass box.

Morrigan responded with a dangerous smile, twirling the spear of black energy in her hand with cruel elegance. The wind around her seemed to respond to her footsteps.

"Oh, sweetheart, if I don't seal it... you lose control. Then it's no fun. I want to see you fight. Not foam at the mouth."

She advanced again, not running—but walking with the confidence of someone who knows that the next blow will be decisive. Each step made the ground shake slightly, as if nature itself feared her presence.

Inside, Vergil narrowed his eyes as he watched the battlefield.

"Sapphire's murderous aura has been sealed...?" he muttered, perplexed. "Is that possible?"

Sepphirothy, still holding the teacup in his hand, nodded slowly.

"Authority of Death. It works on all aspects of existence—body, soul, aura, even instinct. And she has that of War along with it, which makes the application even more precise." He paused briefly and took another sip. "Even though it's very little, her divinity is functional. Compact, but sufficient. Gods... are far above us, Vergil. Incomparable. And we, demons... remain mortal. Only with energy of inferior origin."

Vergil frowned, as if digesting something particularly bitter.

"Tch... pathetic."

"It's a shame," Sepphirothy added, looking out with a certain disdain, "that Morrigan is so stupid."

He didn't have time to finish his thought.

Outside, Sapphire rose with a deep growl, her wavering posture transforming into something more solid, like a beast straightening its spine. The ground around her cracked under the pressure of accumulated energy.

"I see," she murmured, her voice seeming to resonate within the earth. "You want to cheat... then you'll get a taste of your own medicine."

The Demonic Fire of the Agares Clan ignited in her hands, first as embers, then as wild flames, dancing between her fingers with an almost liquid red-gold color. The temperature of the field changed—even the air around her seemed to recede.

With a restrained roar, Sapphire drew on the power of her lineage, shaping it.

And then, there, the weapon appeared.

A demonic spear, forged purely from the ancestral flame of the Agares clan. Tall, irregular, alive. Its core pulsed with hatred, rage, and an ancient memory.

On the other side, Morrigan raised an eyebrow and took an elegant leap backward.

"Why, does that little thing still exist?" she scoffed, spinning her own energy like a perverse mirror. "I've fought that abomination—the original. That thing... is a joke."

Her hand opened to the side, and in response, a black spear emerged—made of pure abyss, dense as a black hole, but vibrant with primitive energy. It was the fusion of two essences — two names forgotten by almost everyone.

Sepphirothy watched with a slight gleam in his eye, murmuring:

"Belial and Bulgaron... that combination isn't seen every day."

Vergil slowly turned his face, staring at his father.

"But... isn't Belial one of the Demons of the 72 clans?"

Sepphirothy looked away from the field and replied, as if narrating a personal legend: "It was."

He paused. The silence seemed to weigh more than the explanation.

"Sapphire killed the first Belial. She destroyed the body, imprisoned the soul, and... forged him into a spear."

Vergil blinked slowly, absorbing the weight of those words. But in the next second—it was as if thunder had struck his spine.

His entire body burned in response. A sudden heat, like a primitive instinct awakening. His vision blurred for an instant... and then everything cleared.

Time seemed to slow down.

Outside, the clash had begun.

Two spears collided in the center of the destroyed field—the demonic one, alive and pulsing with ancient fire, and the divine one, dense as the void. The impact was not only physical—it was energetic. Dimensional. The force reverberated like a thousand hammer blows against the fabric of reality.

An explosion of black light and crimson fire spread like a shockwave, cracking the earth, pulverizing trees, and making the very air vibrate as if screaming in pain.

Vergil's eyes widened. It was like watching hell and the pantheon at war, through an intimate lens.

And at the center of it all... Sapphire smiled.

Her feet planted firmly on the ground, her hair blowing in the wind like a living flame, her eyes alight with pure excitement.

"My spear skills," she said, her voice low and sharp as a blade, "are better."

And with a precise twist, almost too beautiful for the moment, she redirected the force of her weapon—channeling the impact like a martial arts master channels energy—and threw Morrigan away.

The goddess's body was launched like a dark comet, cutting through the air with violence, slicing trees like kindling before crashing into a stone wall with enough force to crack the structure from base to top.

Dust rose. Birds fled. Silence returned... for just a second.

Then Sapphire spun the spear in the air with one hand, as if it were light—an extension of her own body.

And she smiled. "You want to use the Authority of Death on me, bitch? You'll need more than that."

Vergil stood motionless in the gap of the destroyed staircase, watching his wife as if seeing her for the first time. "I forget how strong she is," Vergil muttered, and Sepphirothy sighed.

"Well... if you hadn't put a leash on her, you'd see many other things, since she's the most feared demon in this world, but you turned her into a little doll in love." Sepphirothy shrugged.

"Not that I'm complaining, it helped half of humanity, and all the other cycles... Imagine if she had dealt with the pope? She would have easily created a Holy War." Sepphirothy said

Before Morrigan rushed past her and slammed into the wall, spitting blood.

"Hey, bitch, get up." Sapphire said, "Isn't this what you wanted?" She growled, "COME ON, YOU WHORE."