My Wives are Beautiful Demons

[Two Hours Earlier]

The soft glow of a crystal chandelier illuminated the private hall of Sapphire's mansion, casting dancing shadows on walls adorned with intricate details. Sapphire reclined on a velvet red divan, her emerald eyes gleaming as she scrutinized Viviane, who stood with her usual impeccable posture.

"So, Viviane," Sapphire began, her tone laden with authority, "is there any witch in the human world truly capable? I need someone who can erase Vergil's existence. Every piece of information about his life before his ascension as a demon."

Vergil, leaning against the doorframe, observing the conversation with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, raised an eyebrow. He stepped forward, crossing his arms. "Erase my existence? And why, exactly, do you think that's necessary?"

Sapphire turned her head toward him, her gaze piercing. "Do you really need to ask? Other factions are already watching you. Azazel himself sought you out. But it's not just you who's at risk... anyone connected to your former life is as well. I'm protecting you, you idiot."

Vergil paused for a moment, the weight of her words echoing in his mind. Sapphire didn't need to elaborate further. He knew exactly who she was referring to: his mother.

"Your concern makes sense, I admit," Vergil replied, his voice calmer but still carrying a cold edge. "But that doesn't solve the problem of who can do this. Not just anyone can erase information like that."

Viviane, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward, her posture still flawless, but her expression tinged with subtle reluctance. "There is someone. A witch. But not just any witch. We're talking about Morgana Le Fay."

The name made Sapphire avert her gaze briefly, as if pondering something, but Vergil remained impassive. He only tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes glowing with curiosity. "Morgana Le Fay? The Morgana Le Fay?"

'Every day, I meet more mythological figures... I'm starting to feel a bit unnerved,' Vergil thought to himself.

Viviane sighed, adjusting the shimmering necklace around her neck. "The very same. She's one of the oldest and most skilled witches still alive. A survivor of Camelot, a natural strategist, and someone who... doesn't work for free. But she's the only one capable of performing this task perfectly."

"Perfect," Vergil said with a shrug, as if the legendary name meant nothing. "And where do I find her?"

"It's not that simple," Viviane replied, her tone growing cautious. "Morgana doesn't trust anyone. She lives in seclusion, but she's known to frequent a certain bar in the human world—a haven for the supernatural. If you want to find her, you'll have to convince her, and that won't be easy."

Vergil let out a dry laugh, adjusting the collar of his jacket. "Convince a reclusive legend? Sounds like an average Tuesday."

Viviane interrupted him, her eyes burning with concern—a rare sight from her. "Vergil, do not underestimate Morgana. She's as treacherous as she is powerful. If you make one wrong move, she won't hesitate to turn you to ash."

He met her gaze, a cold smile playing on his lips. "Then she'll be just like everyone else I've faced so far."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Viviane narrowed her eyes at him. "Be careful with your arrogance, Lucifer. Morgana is no ordinary opponent."

Vergil simply chuckled again, leaving the room with his hands in his pockets. "I'm not worried. I'll find her and secure what we need. Take care of the mansion while I'm gone."

Before Vergil could leave, Viviane grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. "If she won't agree to money, tell her I sent you. If she hasn't forgotten me, she'll help you... Oh, and be cautious. The last time I saw her, she was with a group of werewolves, and one of them liked to claim she was his... though she always denied it."

"Got it. See you soon," Vergil replied before walking out.

[Present Time]

Vergil stepped forward, unbothered, his movements calculated and elegant, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. "Let me guess," he said, his tone low but sharp as a blade. "You think she's yours, and you're just trying to protect what you claim as yours?" He smirked, the taunt hanging in the air.

The werewolf took a step closer, claws clicking as tension rippled through his body. "You talk too much, demon. It doesn't matter who you are. Here, you don't call the shots."

Before the werewolf could make another move, Vergil raised a hand. A sharp crack echoed through the room as a wave of demonic energy pulsed from the ground around him.

The entire bar seemed to tremble, the chatter and laughter silencing instantly.

Creatures that had been casually observing now recoiled, recognizing the sheer power radiating from Vergil.

The werewolf's eyes widened momentarily, but his stubborn pride refused to let him back down. With a furious roar, he lunged forward with all his might.

Vergil didn't move until the last possible second. Then, with a single, effortless motion, he sidestepped the attack and caught the werewolf by the throat. The ease of it left the room holding its collective breath. "I don't need to prove anything to you," Vergil murmured, his voice cold and dripping with disdain.

Lifting the werewolf off the ground with one hand, he squeezed just enough to make him grunt in pain. Morgana's smirk grew wider, her chin resting on her hand as she watched the scene unfold with evident amusement.

"Vergil," Morgana finally spoke, her voice sweet like poison. "If you keep this up, you'll end up destroying my favorite bar. Wouldn't that be a tragedy?"

Vergil turned his head slightly toward Morgana, still holding the werewolf. "I'm just showing him his place. But, for you..." He released the werewolf, who collapsed to the ground in a coughing, gasping heap.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood today," Vergil whispered to the werewolf before turning his attention back to Morgana. "Now, where were we?"

Morgana let out a short laugh, visibly pleased with the spectacle. "You were trying to convince me to help you, weren't you? Well, I think you've caught my attention." She shrugged, her tone laced with amusement. "After all, it's not every day I see someone shut up an angry werewolf without breaking a sweat."

Vergil remained silent, casually adjusting the lapels of his jacket, though his thoughts were as sharp as ever. Protecting him, huh? How pathetic. Disdain flickered briefly in his icy eyes.

But the moment of calm was shattered by a furious roar.

"You bastard!" the werewolf bellowed, launching himself forward with all his strength, claws aimed straight at Vergil's face.

The attack, however, stopped before it even got close. A pulsating barrier of crimson demonic energy erupted around Vergil, blocking the claws effortlessly. The impact reverberated through the air, forcing the werewolf to stagger back in surprise, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Vergil raised his gaze slowly, his icy stare brimming with contempt. His voice sliced through the silence like a razor: "She was trying to protect you, you flea-ridden mutt."

Without hesitation, Vergil stepped forward. His hand shot out, gripping the werewolf's arm with unrelenting force. The demonic energy around him intensified, humming as though the very air was on the verge of tearing apart. The werewolf struggled, but it was futile.

"You don't know the difference between courage and stupidity, do you?" Vergil muttered, his voice low but brimming with menace.

And then he began.

With a methodical and merciless motion, Vergil snapped the first finger of the werewolf. A sharp crack echoed through the room, followed by the werewolf's agonized scream. He didn't stop. One by one, Vergil broke the werewolf's fingers, as if dismantling a broken toy. Each snap was punctuated by a groan of pain and the growing tension in the air.

The crowd watched in stunned silence. Even the hardiest patrons of the supernatural bar seemed uneasy, exchanging wary glances.

Morgana, however, remained still. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of fascination and caution, as if she were testing Vergil's limits.

When the last finger was broken, Vergil finally let go, letting the werewolf collapse onto the floor with a heavy thud. He looked down at the defeated adversary, who whimpered and cradled his mangled hand.

"Consider this a lesson," Vergil said, brushing off an imaginary speck of dust from his jacket. He then turned his gaze toward Morgana, as if nothing had happened. "Now that I'm done teaching manners, where were we?"