My Wives are Beautiful Demons

The Meeting Hall of the Four Demonic Archons didn't seem made of stone, or any other material that could exist in a mortal world. It was a colossal hall, supported by living columns—twisted colossuses of black flesh and bone, pulsing like exposed hearts. The ceiling was endless, dissolved into darkness dotted with red stars that moved like eyes. And in the center, the table.

Round, massive, formed of obsidian crystal that reflected the distorted faces of those present, as if the very furniture mocked them.

In the four seats of power sat the Archons.

Amon stood as still as a statue, his golden eyes shining like incandescent suns in his dark face. His presence was overwhelming, but not with fury—but with absolute calm, like a blade resting before being unsheathed.

Phenex seemed less restrained. His incandescent wings spread, searing the air, his form oscillating between human and bestial. He wore the relaxed smile of one who saw everything as a spectacle, but beneath his eyes burned a flame of calculation.

Astaroth reclined in his chair, legs crossed, his slender body draped in clothes that billowed like smoke. His eyes held both charm and madness—and it was impossible to predict which direction he would lean.

And finally, Paimon.

Unlike the human stories that portrayed her as a masculine prince, there she was—a woman of warm beauty and regal bearing. Dressed in robes of silver and black, crowned with spirals of bone, her aura exuded authority. Her voice, when it echoed, was that of one who always knew more than she revealed.

It was Amon who broke the silence first. His voice, low but vibrant, echoed like muffled thunder.

"I want answers." "The mortal world is shifting, and something big is unfolding. I want to know what."

All eyes turned to Paimon. She leaned back in her chair, raising one pale hand, and the crystal on the table glowed, showing moving images.

"A war has broken out," she began, her voice lilting. "Between vampires and werewolves. Nothing new so far, of course. But the scale… it's something to behold."

The crystal showed endless deserts, the sun beating down on golden sand dunes. Ancient pyramids rose in the background, scars of time that still held power. And there, amidst that legendary landscape, the battle.

Small groups clashed. Werewolves in hybrid form, their skins glistening in the sun, howling ferociously. Vampires in their dark robes, their eyes red and fangs gleaming as they tore at flesh savagely. The battlefield was an orderless carnage, like a storm of blood and steel.

Paimon continued, without changing his tone:

"The Werewolf King decided it was time to eliminate Alucard once and for all. They took the war to the heart of the desert, trying to crush him under their numbers."

Phenex rested his chin on his hand, watching the images as if it were theater.

"Naturally," he commented, a lazy smile on his face. "Wolves and bats have been fighting since before men learned to walk upright. What's wrong with a predictable conflict?"

The crystal screen trembled. The scene changed.

The battlefield, already devastated, now showed something different. Bodies. Mountains of bodies. They weren't just dead—they were annihilated. The desert was stained with blood, and the armies… were disappearing.

Paimon leaned forward.

"What's wrong... is that they weren't the ones who won."

A heavy silence fell across the table.

"Then who?" Astaroth spoke first, his voice drawling with amusement. "Some third kingdom? Humans with new toys?"

Paimon just smiled. It was a crooked smile, full of mischief.

"Not exactly," he replied, and the crystal glowed again.

This time, the images showed two figures.

A vampire.

Long hair, white as night, pale skin illuminated by the moon, moving with the grace of a dancing blade. Her eyes were crimson, but not ordinary—they burned with the intensity of centuries. Her every move tore through dozens, her speed transforming her into a specter on the battlefield.

And beside her, a werewolf.

Not just any werewolf. In hybrid form, her body was agile, fierce, devastating. Her skin covered in orange fur, her blue-green eyes that shone like emeralds. Their claws shattered stone columns, their strength effortlessly tore through entire ranks of vampires and wolves.

Two women.

Two forces of nature.

And, alone, they devastated the entire countryside.

Phenex arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Curious," he murmured. "Vampire and werewolf... together?"

Astaroth gave a low laugh.

"Forbidden love? Unlikely friendship? Or just shared hatred?"

Amon, silent, narrowed his eyes. His deep voice broke the air:

"I recognize the lupine. I've seen her before."

Paimon nodded, and the crystal focused on the wolf's face. Her features were half-hidden under blood and dust, but she was unmistakable: young, but her expression etched with fury.

"Alexa Wykes," Paimon said, his tone almost solemn. "Daughter of the Werewolf King."

There was immediate silence. Even Phenex leaned in, finally interested.

"Daughter... of the king?" he repeated, with a short laugh. "What a delightful betrayal."

Paimon continued:

"She never had any ties to the kingdom." Since her mother, Elizabeth Wykes, was murdered, Alexa grew up far from her own race. She lived in Los Angeles, completely oblivious to the intrigues and legacy that belonged to her.

Amon closed his eyes thoughtfully.

"So she's royal blood... but without allegiance to the crown."

Phenex tapped his fingers on the table, flames dancing around his hand.

"That explains the strength. But not the motivation."

His eyes turned to Paimon.

"And the other one?"

The crystal shifted, now focusing on the vampire. Her eyes were crimson, her aura cold and lethal. She advanced among corpses, her movements reminiscent of ancient arts, ceremonial dances transformed into massacres.

Paimon tilted her head slightly, like a teacher satisfied with the most intriguing answer of the night.

"She has only one name. Kaguya."

Phenex frowned. Astaroth smiled even wider.

"We discovered she belonged to a Japanese vampire clan," Paimon continued. "A clan that served Alucard directly, centuries ago."

The images showed glimpses of ancient records: Eastern symbols, shadows of vampire warriors, always in the presence of a throne occupied by Alucard himself. And there she was, in old paintings, younger, but unmistakable.

"And now…" Amon said, his voice even lower. "What do two natural enemies do together?"

That's when Paimon smiled wider. Not a smile of relief—but of amusement.

She didn't respond with words. She just snapped her fingers.

The crystal glowed, and the image changed.

It wasn't Alexa. It wasn't Kaguya.

It was him.

Vergil's face.

The hall seemed to tremble. Phenex's eyes widened, Amon froze, and Astaroth... laughed.

He laughed loudly, a sickening laugh, throwing his head back. The sound was almost unbearable, like shattering glass.

"FUCK YOU…" Astaroth yelled, slamming his hand on the table. The obsidian cracked but didn't shatter. "FUCK YOU, YOU SHITTY LITTLE KING!"

He laughed even louder, tears streaming from the laughter.

"MONTHS OF QUIET! MONTHS AWAY FROM EVERYTHING! AND YOU STILL FIND A WAY TO CAUSE TROUBLE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"