My Wives are Beautiful Demons
Chapter 415 - 415: Time Break

The silence that followed the impact was more than the sound of pause—it was the anticipation of the cosmos, a suspended note in the music of destruction.

Crimsarya hovered in the air, her body enveloped in faint flames, as if space itself hesitated to touch her. Her gaze was fixed on the crater below, where Nivara, still gasping, tried to rise among fragments of broken ice.

But now, there were no more words.

There were no more warnings.

There was only decision.

Crimsarya extended her right arm. Her fist slowly closed. And the world... shook.

An impossible sound began to echo—like the distant song of a dying star. A colossal pressure enveloped everything. Gravity changed. The skies darkened. As if something that should never have existed was being called back to reality.

Then, a crimson crack opened in the air behind her. Not like a portal — but like a wound. A tear in logic.

From it emerged Supernova.

A twin blade, with two flaming edges, slowly spinning around itself as if it still burned with the screams of a collapsing sun. Its core was black—so black it swallowed light—but its edges swirled in shades of red, gold, and white, in constant combustion. It was impossible to look directly at it without feeling one's soul contract.

As she took it in her hands, Crimsarya let out a sigh. Not of relief. But of resignation.

The moment his fingers wrapped around the weapon's hilt, the world screamed.

In the distance, Susano'o acted without thinking—the instinct of an ancient warrior. His katana cut through the very space in front of him, a slit that enveloped him in a cocoon of distortion, protecting him from the heat wave that disintegrated everything in its radius.

"This is no longer a fight..." he muttered, his eyes glazed over. "It is the birth of a new disaster."

Morrigan, who had been watching with a pale smile, now growled silently, surrounded by a circle of crows. They merged around her in a vortex of black feathers that sealed her body and soul from the impact. Each bird screeched in forgotten tongues, creating an ancient spell—not to counterattack, but to survive.

Vergil, from where he stood, clenched his fists. "No..."

Sapphire fell to her knees, gasping for breath. The battle with that woman had caused incredible damage to her body. Seeing this, Vergil protected her with the energy of death. That scene did not make him happy at all. His beloved wife was so fragile that he himself was beginning to get angry, but it was not the time to be rash...

Sepphirothy, for the first time, frowned. "Too much power... they will interfere," she thought, looking up at the broken sky.

Cymsaria had summoned the blade of extinction. A weapon made not for war, but for erasure. To burn concepts, eras, histories... and start over.

The pressure was so great that the sky shattered into pieces and began to break further. Even the neighboring worlds, hanging far away in orbit from the battlefield, shook.

But the ice... did not flee.

At the bottom of the crater, Nivara rose.

Her face was no longer a mirror of anger. It was serene. Cold. As if the heat before her were nothing more than a detail.

She did not hesitate.

If Crimsarya chose to use destruction, then she would use the end. "...Age of Ice," she whispered.

The air around her froze completely. Not like when the temperature drops. But like when the concept of heat is nullified. The ground disappeared. It didn't break — it was erased.

A crack of blue light opened behind her, similar to Crimsarya's, but this one seemed to plunge into the core of the coldest galaxy in the universe. Dead stars, worlds of absolute ice, ancient comets, and hibernating gods... all of it was there, frozen in the eternity of a second.

And from it, the spear was born.

Era do Gelo.

A weapon as fine as it was cruel. Its handle was made of silver crystal, translucent but impossible to break. The tip was almost invisible—so sharp that it cut through time when it moved. Around it, spirals of cold swirled like icy serpents, erasing whatever they touched.

Nivara held it, and the world stopped for a moment.

Time did not move. Heat did not move. Embers froze in the air.

Wukong, who until then had been watching from atop one of the floating fragments of the sky, narrowed his eyes. His staff spun restlessly behind him. But he restrained it.

"I have fought gods..." he muttered, his mouth dry. "I have defeated celestial emperors. I have made Buddhas bleed and caused turmoil in the Celestial Court."

He swallowed hard. Sweat trickled down his forehead, even in the midst of absolute freezing.

"But that... that's the scariest thing I've ever seen."

He knew what he was looking at.

Two dragons.

Real. True. Eternal.

Crimsarya, with her Supernova slowly spinning in her hands, surrounded by flames that could incinerate even concepts.

Nivara, with the Ice Age in her fist, surrounded by a silence so absolute that it swallowed even thoughts.

Their eyes met.

And in that instant... the universe hesitated.

Because what she saw was no longer just Crimsarya and Nivara.

They were not just ancient warriors.

They were not empresses, goddesses, or rivals.

They were primordial heat and cold.

The star that creates and the vacuum that consumes.

They did not move.

But the space around them slowly fell apart.

Distant galaxies began to flicker.

Time, which had previously only hesitated... broke.

With the imminent confrontation between Crimsarya and Nivara, the universe, unable to bear the weight of the two absolute extremes, stopped.

Literally.

The frozen embers in the air ceased their flickering.

Light ceased to propagate.

Particles, vibrations, even thoughts... were swallowed up by an absolute silence with no return.

Everything was suspended.

Except for a single presence.

From the shattered heavens, she descended.

Floating gently among fragments of broken realities, an innocent-looking little girl, dressed in black garments that billowed like cosmic veils. Her feet did not even touch the ground, but wherever she passed, space was stitched together... and died. As if each step were a signature of the end.

She sighed heavily, her expression too tired for her apparent youth.

"How do I deal with you?" she whispered, her voice laden with something older than existence itself — entropy personified. She wasn't talking to the warriors. She was talking to herself. Or to something far above.

But then...

A voice answered... "Who are you?"

The sound cut through frozen time like a knife made of disorder.

The little girl froze. Literally. She turned her face slowly, very slowly... her eyes narrowed slightly.

Someone... was moving.

Within the frozen time.

And that, more than anything else... frightened her.

Not visibly. Not with tremors, nor with fear in her eyes. But with that dense silence that only true superior beings display when they realize that something has escaped their control.

She turned her face completely and saw him.

Vergil.

Standing still. Watching her. His gaze was not arrogant, but firm. He did not understand who she was, but he was not afraid. And that bothered her even more.

She stared at him for a few seconds. Long seconds.

Without answering.

Vergil frowned slightly.

The discomfort in the invisible room of the universe was absolute.

"...Anomaly," she said at last, as if diagnosing a disease. "Unstable. Incorrect."

Without changing her tone, she extended her small, pale hand toward him... "Delete."

Nothing happened.

The energy around her faltered. The laws of existence were shaken.

But... Vergil remained there.

Intact.

The little girl blinked once, slowly. "Delete."

More firmly. But... again: nothing.

Vergil took a step forward, confused—he still felt the pressure of time standing still around him, but something inside him kept him moving. Something even he didn't understand.

"I see," the girl murmured, emotionless.

She looked back at Crimsarya and Nivara, still suspended in the moment before the impact of the end.

"Seal."

The word reverberated across all planes — not as sound, but as law.

And then she pointed at Vergil again.

"I don't have objects powerful enough to seal these two babies. I'll use your body."

The ground shook. Not from impact. But from refusal to accept reality.

Vergil tried to back away. To open his mouth. But his body did not respond.

The force that possessed him was not magic. Nor was it spiritual.

It was the command of the very code of reality.

His body began to move on its own, heading toward the little girl, like a puppet without strings.

"Silence."

With that word, his mind was also erased for an instant. His soul still screamed, but his consciousness was being pulled to the bottom, like a drowning man in a sea without a surface.

Outside, Vergil's body stopped in front of her.

She raised her small hands and began to trace symbols in the air — impossible symbols. Shapes that did not belong to geometry or language. Each one glowed for a second, then disappeared.

"You will be the vessel. The object of sealing. I don't have time to find other orbs," she declared. "Be grateful that you are not extinct. Be anomalous."

The light from those impossible symbols began to penetrate Vergil's flesh like cosmic tattoos. Every line, every curve, seemed to hurt on a plane that was not physical — as if his existence were being redrawn, pixel by pixel, atom by atom, into a new function: containment.

The little girl took a step forward. Her eyes showed neither anger nor pleasure. Just a kind of cruel acceptance — the coldness of someone who does what is necessary, not what they want.

"Sealing form: hybrid. Regeneration capacity: acceptable. Residual will: negligible..." She narrated, as if reciting a living equation. "Emotional limits... unstable. Initiating reinforcement."

The runes glowed again, stronger, and Vergil's skin burned — but not with fire. With language.

It was at that moment that something broke.

An invisible crack, a line that cut through what should have been impossible.

The little girl stopped.

"...What?" she murmured, looking human for the first time.

The newly written mark on Vergil's forehead shattered — like glass struck by something far greater than it could bear.

From within him, there was no scream.

There was a roar.

An ancient sound. Cruel. Filled with a pain that did not belong to that plane. Something dormant, sealed... perhaps for a reason.

The little girl took a step back, slowly.

"That... wasn't in the pattern."

Vergil's body trembled. His eyes, once empty, now shone with a light that was not his own. A color that did not belong to any spectrum — something between absolute black and unreal white. Something that vibrated with the essence of negation...

"We need to talk." That thing spoke to her...