My Wives are Beautiful Demons
Chapter 408 - 408: A Berserker Dragon Unleashed.

Vergil stared at the horizon with half-closed eyes, his expression somewhere between disbelief and fascination. Then he let out a low laugh—dry, almost sarcastic—and slowly turned to Raphaeline.

"I must be going crazy, right?" he asked, as if commenting on the weather.

Raphaeline's eyes widened, her pale face contrasting with her fiery red eyes. A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, followed by another, and then another. She looked like a statue about to crack.

"V-Vergil... this is no time for jokes!" she stammered, her voice rising in desperation. "There's a dragon coming our way!"

She pointed with both hands now, as if her own eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing. The sound of wings cutting through the sky already made the air vibrate in invisible waves.

Vergil sighed—a deep, resigned sigh, as if he had expected this kind of madness to happen sooner or later.

"...Mother," Vergil murmured, his eyes following the swift silhouette cutting through the stormy clouds, "why the hell are you running away from a dragon?"

Sepphirothy did not answer. She just glanced quickly at him—a glance that said everything without saying anything.

Vergil sighed and raised his hands in a resigned gesture. "All right, I get it. Kill the dragon. Fair enough."

He took a step forward. The shadow beneath his feet distorted, twisting like living smoke, until it took shape. A pair of crimson eyes lit up in the darkness, and with a roar that seemed to come from the abyss itself, a gigantic Shadow Dragon emerged, taking flight toward the sky in a whirlwind of darkness and fury.

Raphaeline stumbled back a step, completely stunned.

"S-since when do you have a dragon?!" she asked incredulously, her eyes wide as if she had seen a second sun rise in the sky.

Vergil turned slowly toward her, as if answering something obvious.

"Death Knight. Remember?" he said, with an arched eyebrow.

She blinked. And then, as if the realization had fallen from a cliff, her expression melted into embarrassment.

"...Ah. Yes. Right." She replied, looking as if she had just lost an argument with her own memory.

Vergil's Shadow Dragon cut through the skies like a living spear of darkness, leaving a black trail among the demonic clouds. The air grew denser as he approached Sepphirothy, who hovered in the air like a warrior spirit carved from steel and storm.

She landed on the back of the dark creature beside him with supernatural lightness, balancing effortlessly even with the winds roaring around them.

Vergil looked at her sideways, his eyes half-closed against the icy gale that now surrounded them.

"What's the plan?" he asked, his voice firm but laden with barely concealed tension. "That thing over there..." — he pointed with his chin toward the horizon — "...isn't that the Platinum Dragon Empress?"

Sepphirothy did not answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the colossal creature approaching like a living avalanche, the beast's body covered in crystalline scales that reflected the lightning in the sky like frozen mirrors. Spiral horns of raw silver crowned its head like a divine throne, and its eyes—two frozen suns—burned with intelligence and hatred.

"It is her, yes," Sepphirothy said at last, his voice deep and steady as the tolling of a war bell. "Or rather... what remains of her."

Vergil frowned. "She is... corrupted?"

Sepphirothy nodded slowly. "Someone broke the seal on the Platinum Orb. But not in the right way. She was released... forced... without control. What we are seeing is an avatar of ancient fury—instinctive, unbalanced."

The Empress's roar exploded in the sky like the sound of ice itself breaking the firmament. The clouds split, and a storm of biting snow began to fall like white blades.

"If she crosses the borders of Walpurgis in this state..." Sepphirothy clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on the approaching living storm. "...there will be nothing left of the clans. Not even the echo of the castle's foundations."

Vergil inhaled slowly, his eyes fixed on the colossal figure tearing through the skies. The air around them began to crystallize into ice flakes that floated like silent ashes.

"Then let's contain her... before the world discovers what happens when a goddess goes mad."

Sepphirothy let out a bitter laugh. "Contain her?" he repeated, a hard half-smile on his lips. "Do you have any idea who's coming? This isn't some hysterical freak. She's a Draconic Empress—one of the first. She destroyed civilizations before we even had names for them."

Vergil raised one hand. The shadows around him lit up like embers ready to set the night ablaze, swirling and compressing like hungry snakes of smoke.

"She's out of control," he said, his voice firm as forged steel. "No conscience. No strategy. And that makes everything simpler."

Sepphirothy raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think it's easier to fight something that acts on pure instinct?"

"When someone has no focus, no idea what to protect, no way to defend themselves... Yes," Vergil replied. "It's easier than fighting someone who knows what they're doing."

She looked at him for a moment, as if analyzing him.

"Maybe," she finally murmured. "If we were talking about a common berserker. Not a True Dragon that almost wiped out an entire race just by existing."

Vergil glanced sideways at Sepphirothy, the shadow of a smile playing on the corner of his lips.

"Are you afraid?" he teased, his voice laden with insolent calm. "I thought you were the strongest."

Sepphirothy did not respond immediately. The wind whipped her white hair like a battle flag, and the flash of silver lightning reflected in the steel of her eyes. For a second, the silence between them was absolute, like the moment before an explosion.

Then she slowly turned her face toward him—and her eyes flashed with a mixture of fury, pride, and something that resembled... amusement.

"Fear?" She smiled, a joyless smile. "I was catching my breath. That thing over there" — she pointed with her chin at the winged titan approaching — "has eaten generals like you for breakfast. Armor and all."

Vergil gave a short, almost mocking laugh.

"She's big, loud, and probably thinks she can spit ice until she extinguishes the sun," he said, raising one hand, where a black blade began to form, growing from his shadow like a tower of pure will. "But that doesn't change the fact that she doesn't think. She just reacts."

"And what are you going to do?" Sepphirothy crossed his arms, his tone defiant. "Recite dark poetry until she falls asleep?"

"No." Vergil swung the blade in a lazy arc. "I'm going to rip off her horns and beat her with them until she remembers her own name."

Thunder roared above, and the creature finally broke through the wall of clouds completely—revealing itself in its apocalyptic magnitude. Its platinum scales glistened like blades of ice under the black sun. Its wings tore through the sky with each beat. The ancient runes engraved on its chest pulsed, distorted, as if reality itself refused to decipher them.

Sepphirothy sighed deeply. "You have no idea what you're doing."

Vergil shrugged.

"That's never stopped me before."

But before Vergil could advance or conjure any command, a new sound tore through the sky.

A roar.

Not icy, nor deep and ancient like the Empress's.

It was a wild roar—vibrant, charged with an insane, pulsing joy, as if destruction itself were music. A red tear spiraled across the sky like a flaming comet and struck the side of the Empress's head with such brutal force that the creature was launched straight ahead like a colossal projectile, flying out of control and disappearing behind a chain of icy mountains.

The sonic boom that followed shook the world.

Vergil and Sepphirothy almost lost their balance on the Shadow Dragon with the displacement of air. A crimson flash lit up the sky for an instant, reflected in the Empress's scales as she disappeared over the horizon with the sound of ice and stone being crushed in the distance.

And then... silence.

Until a figure hovered in the sky, exactly where the blast had originated—floating amid the stormy clouds as if on a throne.

It was a woman.

Or rather, a storm of madness dressed as a woman.

Long, wavy hair, a deep red that looked like liquid flames. Her eyes, the same deep crimson hue, glowed with the ecstatic insanity of one who lives for war. She wore unusual armor—a mixture of floating runic plates and arcane fabrics that molded to her body with the fluidity of fire and the firmness of steel.

And in the next instant, she let out a laugh.

Loud. Long. Uncontrollable.

"HAHAHAHAHA! A CHALLENGE!" the woman yelled, spinning in the air like a living spear, her arms open to the storm. "I'VE WAITED CENTURIES FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS! FINALLY, A WORTHY OPPONENT!"

Sepphirothy's eyes widened. "No... it can't be..."

Vergil stared at her sideways. "Didn't you say this dragon was fucking awesome and I don't know what, blah blah blah strong?"

Sepphirothy looked and sighed... "I'm getting too old..."