My Wives are Beautiful Demons
Chapter 412 - 412: Opposites

Vergil clenched his fists. His body still trembled under the crushing weight of the Empress's presence, but his eyes did not waver. The flame that burned within him was different from Sapphire's—it was not divine, nor magical. It was human. Brutally human.

And for that very reason... unbreakable.

He took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice no longer trembled. It was firm—filled with courage and defiance.

"Let's do this. How about this: I'll take you to the Orb of your beloved sworn enemy, okay?" he said, taking another step forward, even as the icy aura nearly cut through his skin. "Then you can kill her before she even awakens. I mean, you seem to want that more than anyone else in this world!"

The frozen creature's eyes narrowed. The mist around her swirled, slow and lethal, reacting to the name mentioned.

"Come on, no need to hit my dear wife," Vergil continued, his tone laden with sarcasm and intent. "We can easily resolve this, correct?"

Silence.

The Empress slowly lowered her hand. The attack was not undone—only suspended, hovering in the air like an unfinished verdict.

"You speak as if you know something, human," she said. Her voice was sharp, but... there was something else there. Something thoughtful. Almost... cautious.

"I know enough," Vergil replied, without backing down an inch. "Come on. Just leave my dear Sapphire alive and everything will be fine."

The Empress tilted her head. A faint glint crossed her expressionless eyes. Then she spoke: "Why should I? I can kill you with a breath."

The air froze completely around them. But Vergil did not move.

"I need to buy time... Amon and the others must be arriving... just a little longer..." Vergil stood firm, his gaze fixed on the Empress's empty eyes. The cold around him was no longer just physical—it was existential. The kind of cold that threatened to extinguish not only the body, but the identity. The soul. Still, he remained standing.

"You can kill me with a breath," he said, his voice now lower, but without losing his courage. "But it won't change anything. You'll continue chasing shadows. You'll remain trapped in the past."

The Empress remained motionless.

"Do you think you're free now?" Vergil took a step forward, the heat of provocation trying to overcome the icy barrier. "But you still live for her. The one who betrayed you. The one who defeated you. The one who marked you so deeply that even your form is shaped by the memory of her."

The mist around the Empress swayed violently, as if the air itself reacted to the unspoken name.

"Don't make me laugh, Empress. You were reborn, yes. But as what? A vengeful spirit? A shadow of what you once were? A goddess who can only exist by destroying everything that reminds you of your rival?"

The ice creature narrowed her eyes. For the first time, a flash of emotion—rage—passed through her ethereal features.

"You are too bold for an insect," she hissed. The mist receded for a brief moment... and then advanced in murderous spirals.

"I'm being honest," said Vergil. "If you kill me now, you'll prove that I am exactly what you fear. That you are not superior. That you are just another spoiled child with too much power and too much pain to handle."

She raised her hand once more, now with total conviction.

"I've said too much, then," murmured Vergil, finally closing his eyes.

The mist converged. Icy, absolute. The tip of a silver spear of pure cold began to form in the air, aimed directly at the human's heart.

But before the blow could be struck—a red lightning bolt tore through the sky and struck the Empress.

The impact was sharp, brutal. As if the world itself had screamed.

The Empress was thrown several meters backward, her body spinning in the air before her feet dug into the ground and she slid, leaving a trail of broken crystal and embers.

Vergil fell to his knees, stunned, the sudden heat restoring his breath. The air—if only for a moment—began to move again.

And then he saw her.

She emerged from the flames and broken twilight: a woman of fire.

While the Platinum Empress was ice, static, and silence, this new figure was pure movement, color, sound. Her hair was a cascade of living magma, dancing like flaming serpents around a beautiful, wild face. Her skin was tanned like molten iron, and her red scales glowed like rubies under pressure. The heat that emanated from her did not burn—it demanded respect.

Two golden horns curved backward from her head like natural crowns, and her wings—colossal, draconic, translucent—burned with the intensity of a rising sun.

Vergil knew who she was before she even said anything.

The Scarlet Empress.

She stepped forward with the majestic arrogance of one born to reign over destruction.

"It's always been this way, Nivara," she said, looking directly at the Platinum Empress, who was now slowly rising. "You trying to erase what you can't understand, too arrogant."

The ice creature pursed her lips, her expression hardening even more.

"You... Crimsarya."

"Yes," Crimsarya interrupted. "I'm very much alive. You icy bitch."

The ground around them began to crack, dividing between ice and fire, as if the world itself had chosen sides.

Sapphire, still kneeling, watched everything with wide eyes. A fragment of the Stolen Flame still crackled in her chest, reacting—not with fear, but with something close to reverence. To connection.

Vergil rose slowly, his gaze divided between the two titans.

"Holy shit..." he muttered. "She... awakened now?"

The Platinum Empress, or rather, Nivara, finally stood up, her eyes still without pupils, but now with a new emotion: raw anger... "You shouldn't be free."

Crimsarya just smiled — a wide, provocative smile. "And you shouldn't be alive. But look. The world turns, dear."

The two opposing forces stood face to face. One made of eternal ice, timeless. The other, of primitive fire, which shapes and destroys worlds.

Crimsarya turned briefly to Vergil. "Get out of here. I'm letting you live because Runeas Gremory asked me not to fight you demons," she said dismissively. "Leave. This is between me and this bitch."

Vergil opened his mouth to reply, but Sepphirothy pulled him by the arm. She had approached silently, her face pale.

"Let's go... this place is going to get problematic soon," whispered Sepphirothy. "They're coming..."

Vergil frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Our dear friend Morrigan is coming with her troupe of madmen... this place will soon be chaos..."

Vergil was still trying to absorb what was before him—two cosmic entities, personified forces of nature, about to collide—when the air shook.

Not like before. This time, it wasn't a fluctuation of heat or cold.

It was a rupture.

The sky of the demonic world — already corrupted by chaos and ancient magic — shattered like glass, fragments of reality falling in sparks and distorted echoes.

And through that crack... he descended.

Laughing.

Spinning through the air with the chaotic grace of an acrobat drunk on his own strength, the Monkey King fell from the glass sky like an inverted shooting star, leaping once before hitting the ground with a crash that cracked the earth in concentric circles.

"HAHAHA! SAPPHIRE, IS THAT HOW IT IS?" he shouted amid scandalous laughter, pointing at the woman still kneeling, wounded, trying to get up with dignity. "HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

But something was wrong. Vergil felt it first. The laughter was loud. But... empty.

When Wukong's eyes met Nivara's—the Platinum Empress—the charade fell apart. The laughter ceased with a snap. His eyes—normally golden like the sun—became two sharp slits, black around the flaming pupils.

Vergil felt the tension change frequency. The world was no longer just freezing or burning. It was cracking, being squeezed between wills too opposed to coexist.

Wukong spun his staff with a single hand, casually. But his voice, when he spoke again, carried the weight of a thousand wars.

"...You," he whispered, his lips now straight. "You still wear the face of the one who killed half my people, Nivara."

Nivara did not respond. She just stared at the Immortal Monkey with absolute coldness, as if Wukong were just another minor piece in the game.

But before Vergil could say a word, the air rippled once more.

Three presences emerged from a flaming fissure behind them, almost without warning. A burst of ancient energy pushed the dust on the ground, and even Crimsarya seemed to avert her eyes for a moment.

Kali. Morrigan. And the goddess of storms, Susano'o

"I'm impressed you're not dead in the face of that woman's aura," Kali said, looking at Vergil, dry as a blade. "Get out of here with Sapphire. Now."

"That's no longer up to you," Suzanoo added, without taking his eyes off the two empresses in front of him. "The field is going to break."

Vergil hesitated.

Morrigan took a step forward, her long nails sliding lazily across her collarbone, as if each gesture were part of a forgotten dance. Her gaze rested on Sapphire with a mixture of interest and disdain.

"Aah, but look..." she murmured, her voice a whisper that seemed to snake directly into his ear. "The Flame of Olympus has been with you all along, Sapphire..."

She smiled. A sweet, seductive sound—and poisonous as viper venom. "Zeus will be furious..."

Sapphire struggled to her feet, her body still unsteady, but her eyes burning with restrained fury. She fixed her gaze on the goddess as if she could pierce her with her will alone.

"Shut your mouth before I use this flame to destroy you," she growled, her voice tense, sharp as a red-hot blade. "Or have you already forgotten what it can do to creatures like you?"

For a moment, Morrigan's smile faltered — just for a moment. Then she laughed again... but now with a touch of caution behind the mask.