My Wives are Beautiful Demons

"What are you doing here?" Amon asked in a low, dragging voice, without even lifting his eyes from the documents on his desk. He knew who it was just by her presence — as if the air itself had changed density the moment she entered.

The woman didn't smile. She didn't seem interested in wasting time.

"I came to ask you something."

She walked over to the long Archons' table and sat down with the ease of careless royalty. The room was empty — just the two of them. The conversation would be serious, short… or maybe not.

Amon let out a sigh, like someone enduring a routine headache. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

She crossed her legs and stared at him without hiding the contempt in her gaze."How long are you going to keep pretending you don't know what's happening?"

Amon paused for a moment, the pen frozen between his fingers. A small smirk began to curl at the corner of his lips as his red eyes met hers — as cold and deep as a frozen sea.

"You're talking about the boy, aren't you?" he asked.

"You know I am." Her eyes sparked with a glacial intensity. There was a veiled threat, something between the lines that even Amon caught… and ignored."You know what happens if you try anything against him… right?"

Amon let out a dry laugh, more scorn than amusement."Coming from a traitor, why should I care about what you have to say? The law of the strongest, remember? You lived by it yourself."

With a sharp crack in the air, his aura surged — like a storm forming in an instant. The atmosphere shifted. The room seemed to shrink. The oxygen grew heavy.

But she… smiled.

"For someone who betrayed me first, you've got some serious balls."Her killing intent exploded in response.

The very structure groaned, cracks forming in the marble floor. Anyone within two hundred meters would have been dead just from feeling it. It was as if two gods were testing the world's patience.

But both pulled back almost simultaneously. They didn't want to draw too much attention.The Law of the Strongest… was useful. But only for the weak.

They stared at each other for long seconds, the tension still hanging in the air like electricity before a storm.

Amon sighed."Despite your betrayal, I see you're not joking. How did you recover your strength so quickly?"

She simply raised an eyebrow, almost amused."Being the daughter of Lilith and Lucifer has its perks, don't you think? You understand… too bad your bloodline isn't quite as pure as mine."

With a snap of her fingers, the world around them unraveled.

The Archons' office vanished, replaced by a serene hill overlooking snow-covered mountains. A field blanketed in shimmering snow glowed under a gentle sun. In the center — a small tea table with elegant chairs. A touch of grace… and cruelty.

"Succubus skill… even though you're not one. Impressive," Amon commented, glancing around before sitting down with poise. He touched the chair as if testing whether it was real or just illusion.

"Comparing me to a succubus makes me want to kill you," she muttered, sitting on the other side."Tea?"

A golden teapot materialized in the air, serving them both with ethereal delicacy.The steam danced like ghosts in slow motion.

"So all this is just to show me you've regained your true strength?" Amon asked, lifting the teacup to his lips. Unbothered, unrattled.

The small spoon stirred on its own, creating little whirlpools in the dark liquid."No. This is just to make sure nothing happens to him."

Amon raised an eyebrow. "That desperate? Why?"

"You really want me to list all the times you screwed up?" she replied, rolling her eyes.

He scoffed, leaning back in the chair like a bored king."I'm not going to do anything… I can't, actually."

Her gaze changed. Curiosity. Alertness.

"What do you mean… can't?"

Amon clicked his tongue."You think it's as easy as killing the host of an Authority and boom—power's yours? Come on, Sepphy, don't be naïve."

"Spit it out."

"Your son, Sepphirothy… he's the Horseman of Death now. He… stole Ashborne's Authority."

She froze. For a moment that stretched on like eternity, her fingers paused on the handle of the cup. No words. Just silence.

Amon smirked."Yeah. Now your little meltdown makes sense."

"You're telling me… the boy… usurped the Authority from the original Reaper?" she asked, her voice more stunned than doubtful. She hadn't thought the Authority would accept him. Far from it—she assumed the flame had died out…

"Yes. And Hell… approved. Gave him the VIP pass. Official. One of the Four Horsemen."

She brought a hand to her mouth. Not in shock… but to hide a smile."Damn… distance does have its perks."

"You didn't know?" Amon raised an eyebrow, now genuinely surprised.

"No… but now? Screw you."She stood up, gazing at the sky of the world she'd created. Snow fell slowly, almost poetically.

"What are you going to do now?" Amon asked, rising as well.

She didn't answer right away."I'm going to make sure no one lays a finger on my son… not even you."

He smiled — genuinely, for the first time in the whole conversation."Then maybe… you're not a traitor anymore. Just a mother."

She vanished without another word.

Amon remained, staring at the untouched tea, fingers drumming against the armrest as the warmth of the cup slowly faded. The world Sepphy had created still pulsed around him, serene… too calm for the chaos he was used to.

That's when he frowned.

"…Where am I, exactly?" he muttered, glancing around with a strange feeling of displacement.

And then, as if fate had heard his question—

KABOOOOOOM!

An explosion shook the horizon. Snow and rocks were hurled into the sky as a body flew from the mountainside, bouncing like a cannon-fired bullet.

Amon stood up with a jolt, his expression twisting between disbelief and annoyance.

"What the…?"

The mangled body on the ice twitched—bones snapping, muscles bulging. Clawed limbs tore into the ground as the creature rose in a colossal lupine form, its eyes glowing with feral rage.

The transformation was complete. A werewolf in its primal form.

It let out a brutal howl that echoed through the entire illusionary world.

"YOU BASTAAAARD!!!"

Amon turned his eyes toward the mountaintop from which the creature had been launched.

There, standing against the slicing wind, silver hair whipping wildly and eyes sharp as blades—stood him.

Vergil.

Calm. Motionless. A silhouette of pure threat.

"I'm going to kill you," he said, voice cold as the frozen landscape around them.

Amon ran a hand down his face, exhausted.

"Oh, of course… why not?" he muttered, as his body dematerialized like smoke carried off by the wind.

Back in Hell, he reappeared in his office with a long, weary sigh and an age-old weight pressing on his shoulders.

He picked up the documents again, staring at the stack of paperwork like it was the worst punishment imaginable for someone like him.

"That damn kid just woke up and he's already causing trouble again…"

...

The wind howled in the werewolf's ears as he steadied himself on his hind legs, muscles taut, eyes wide with rage and fear. His fur stood on end, and his chest heaved with heavy breaths. The impact of the fall still reverberated through his body… but it was nothing compared to what he saw now.

At the top of the mountain, like a god of destruction in human form, stood Vergil.

An unmoving silhouette, eyes like spears, and an overwhelming pressure radiating even from a distance.

Then, he moved.

"Tch... time to die."

Vergil launched himself from the mountaintop with such speed that the air around him detonated in a sonic boom. The stone beneath his feet shattered like glass. The snow nearby vaporized.

He tore through the sky like a reverse lightning bolt.

The werewolf's eyes widened.

"What the fu—"

BOOOOOOM!

The impact was brutal.

Vergil crashed down like a comet, fists cloaked in pure demonic energy. The blow struck the werewolf square in the gut, crushing flesh, snapping ribs, and carving a crater dozens of meters wide into the frozen ground.

The monster howled in agony, spewing thick, black blood.

Without giving him time to breathe, Vergil moved like a shadow. A spinning kick slammed into the creature's jaw, sending it flying into the air.

"You're Alexa's brother, aren't you?" his voice was low, almost a whisper. "Then she's going to love it... when I rip off your head and set it on a pedestal for her."

Vergil leapt.

Midair, his eyes turned crimson, the energy around him warped, and demonic wings tore from his back with explosive force.

With absurd speed, he appeared behind the werewolf.

"I'LL ERASE YOU!"

With an open-palm strike to the creature's back, Vergil blasted Alexa's brother back to the earth like a missile, breaking through three mountains on impact.

BOOOOOMMMM!!!

Avalanches began to form from the shock. Rock and ice cascaded down in brutal waves.

Vergil landed slowly, his feet touching the ground as if the world trembled to receive him.

Smoke blanketed the battlefield. Snow and dust swirled in chaotic vortexes. For a moment, only the sound of a heartbeat could be heard.

Then, a paw emerged from the wreckage.

The werewolf staggered, half his face burned, his left arm dangling by tendons, eyes filled with pure hatred… and fear.

Vergil didn't smile. He didn't taunt.He simply watched—like one would observe an insect writhing in its final moments.

"You're not even a shadow of your sister."

CLACK.

Vergil snapped his fingers. Instantly, his aura exploded outward. A storm of pure demonic energy consumed everything around him—trees were ripped from the ground, boulders floated into the air, and snow evaporated in a hundred-meter radius.

The werewolf fell to his knees. The impact cracked the ground beneath him. His lungs shook. His heart tried to stop.His whole body screamed to run.

Vergil began walking toward him—slowly, deliberately—like an executioner delivering a sentence.

"You… should've never messed with her."

"You should've never laid a finger on even a single strand of her hair."

"You should've never existed."

As he closed the distance, the werewolf let out a desperate final attack, swinging his claw with what little strength he had left.

Vergil caught the arm mid-air with one hand.

And smiled.A hollow, merciless smile.

"Go to sleep."

With a smooth motion, he tore the creature's arm off—like plucking a flower from the soil.

"I'm taking you back alive. She'll get the pleasure of avenging her companions…And you'll die at the hands of the one you hate the most," he said, his eyes glowing with demonic light.

He tossed the werewolf's severed arm aside, then added—

"But first... come at me."

Vergil's tone wasn't a suggestion.It was a command.

"I'm going to beat you until your life stops making sense."