My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Chapter 821: Virgil’s Inner World

Vergil’s inner world was almost never in absolute silence. Even when empty, that place carried a constant activity, a feeling of contained strength and will organized in forms that did not belong to the material world.Normally, the red skies remained alive, as if always in controlled combustion, and the great sun exposed above all cast a harsh brightness on the horizon, illuminating black mountains, vast plains, and impossible structures molded by the very power of its owner.

At that moment, however, none of that seemed true.

The red continued to exist somewhere above, but it was obscured. The usual brightness had completely disappeared, and darkness dominated the entire expanse of that space as if Vergil’s own interior had been drowned in a starless night.

Nivara was one of the first to notice that the change was not merely aesthetic. She was standing on a black ice elevation, observing the sky with her arms crossed and a furrowed brow, when she noticed that the darkness was not uniform.

There were new lights up there, suspended in silence, too still to be mistaken for natural phenomena of that place.

Crymsaria had also sensed the difference even before seeing it completely, and now she kept her eyes raised, serious, silently analyzing what had appeared above the darkened vault of the inner world.

The two were already uneasy with the simple fact that the sun was not visible, but the presence of those new forms made the situation more uncomfortable.

Six moons hovered above the firmament. They were not ordinary moons, nor did they behave like true celestial bodies. Each seemed to exist less as matter and more as a concept, as if they had been placed there to mark the presence of something that had already entered that world and now occupied space definitively.

The first was red, dark, and heavy, radiating an aggressive and suffocating sensation that needed no name to be recognized. Wrath.

The second was green, cold, and unpleasant, leaving an impression of constant tension, as if observing everything with resentment. Envy.

The third was yellow, dense, shining with a dirty, sickly golden hue, and represented Avarice so clearly that it seemed to mock whoever looked at it.

The fourth was pink, too vibrant, vibrating with an uncomfortable and invasive heat that betrayed Lust.

The fifth was orange, heavy and suffocating in appearance, seeming to concentrate raw appetite and endless consumption. Gluttony.

The sixth, finally, was dark blue, almost sunk into the darkness of the sky, as if too lazy even to exist. Sloth.

Nivara narrowed her eyes for a few seconds and let out a sound of irritation through her nose. She never liked sharing space with things she didn’t immediately understand, much less with presences that seemed to exist there without asking permission.

"These things are powerful," she said, her voice low and irritated, like someone who didn’t like what she was seeing, but also didn’t intend to accept it passively.

Before Crymsaria could respond, Nivara raised one hand and gathered mana with brutal speed. The air around her froze in an instant. Streams of black and blue ice condensed above her, compressing into a colossal mass of icy energy.

It wasn’t a timid test or a cautious shot.

She attacked with full force, launching a megalomaniacal ice projectile directly at the dark blue moon of Sloth, as if she wanted to crush it and discover through the violence of the impact what it truly was.

The attack crossed the sky like a spear of absolute winter, distorting the surrounding air with the pressure of the cold. However, it never reached its target.

There was no explosion, collision, or resistance.

The projectile simply disappeared mid-flight, as if it had ceased to exist before reaching the moon.

Nivara stood motionless for a full second, staring at the sky with a closed expression, bothered by the fact that her own energy had been nullified in that way.

Crymsaria didn’t seem surprised. She observed the point where the attack had vanished and then looked away at the other.

"There’s no point in attacking," she said calmly, without mockery or impatience. "These things aren’t physical. They aren’t here the way we are. They’re just representations."

Nivara made a face of displeasure and slowly lowered her hand, still looking at the moons.

"Representations of what? Because if it’s just to decorate the master’s sky with these abominations, I’d rather break everything first."

Crymsaria crossed her arms and held her gaze on the firmament, thoughtful for a few moments.

"If I understand correctly, they represent things that now exist within him. Not in the way weapons or familiars exist, but as conceptual presences. They are here because they have come to belong to his power system."

The reasoning seemed logical, but it still left more questions than answers. Nivara clearly didn’t like the idea that Vergil’s inner world now boasted six moons linked to the Seven Deadly Sins.

It was at that moment that Qliphoth appeared.

She didn’t appear with spectacle, light, or dramatic disturbance of space. She was simply absent one instant and present the next, a few meters ahead, as if she had always been there and the rest of the world had only taken a while to notice.

Her posture remained the same as always, firm and controlled, and her eyes immediately rose to the sky as if she already knew what it was about.

"Crymsaria is right," she said bluntly. "These six moons are six of the seven Deadly Sins defined by God. Now they exist within him as absorbed, repressed, and controlled Authorities."

Nivara let out a short, sarcastic laugh.

"The Christian God is truly benevolent. He spreads his own power even in hell and still manages to make it look like an organization."

Qliphoth turned his face slightly toward her, without irritation.

"It’s not necessarily a blessing from him," he replied with the same objectivity. "My twin sister probably helped God structure these Authorities. So don’t treat it as his exclusive work."

Crymsaria turned her head toward Qliphoth, this time genuinely surprised.

"You have a sister?"

The question came out more direct than curious, but still sincere.

Qliphoth shrugged, as if it weren’t important enough to warrant a lengthy explanation.

"I have it. The name remains Qliphoth. What changes are the titles. I am the Tree of Death. She is the Tree of Life."

Nivara was silent for a moment, processing it, and then let out another dry noise through her nose.

"That explains a lot and at the same time explains nothing."

Crymsaria, on the other hand, seemed genuinely interested.

"So the structure of the Authorities came from a cooperation between opposing forces?"

Qliphoth nodded once.

"Life and death almost always cooperate more than they like to admit. The problem begins when creatures start carrying concepts too large to remain stable. That’s what you’re seeing now. He absorbed six Authorities, and the inner world reacted by organizing these presences into comprehensible symbols."

Nivara looked back at the sky.

"Comprehensible to whom? Because I still find this ugly."

Before the conversation could continue, a heavy sound pierced the heights of the inner world. It wasn’t a hostile roar nor a jolt of energy, but a clear, vigorous displacement, like something immense cutting through the air.

The three looked up almost simultaneously and saw Itharine flying through the darkened skies.

Its draconic form was still recognizable, but it no longer seemed purely spectral as before. There was density in its silhouette, real weight, a real body. The black flames that had once defined its existence were more compact, more disciplined, integrated into a living, stable form.

Itharine descended in wide circles before landing firmly on the ground, its wings partially folding around its body.

Then her form began to change.

The transformation wasn’t abrupt. The black flames compressed, the wings diminished, the dragon’s colossal mass rearranged itself into human proportions, and in a few seconds Itharine stood before them in the form of a woman.

Her new appearance had nothing spectral about it in the old sense. Now she possessed pale skin with a slight grayish tone, like cold porcelain illuminated by distant fire. Her hair was long, thick, and black, but with purple highlights that became more visible when she moved in the dim light.

Her eyes were violet, deep, and bright, with pupils too narrow to appear completely human. Small, curved horns emerged discreetly above her temples, more reminiscent of draconic heritage than demonic ornamentation.

She wore a fitted, almost organic-looking garment, black as polished coal, with dark purple details forming patterns reminiscent of refined scales along her arms, waist, and legs.

A short cloak, made of something between fabric and shadow, fell from his shoulders to the back of his thighs, and very subtle luminous marks ran across his skin at the points where the energy of death seemed to circulate most intensely.

Nivara let out a low whistle, sincere for the first time in several minutes.

"Now that’s more like it. You no longer look like a poorly fed ghost."

Itharine simply nodded, unoffended.

"My body is no longer spectral," he confirmed simply. "The stabilization came along with the Authority of Death consolidating in the master. Part of that affected me as well."

Crymsaria observed Itharine from head to toe, assessing the change.

"You are denser. More integrated. You seem less like an invocation and more like your own existence."

Itharine accepted the observation without arguing.

"Because that’s what happened. The connection deepened."

The conversation, however, was interrupted by a brutal change in the environment.

Without warning, the darkness that dominated the inner world dissolved. There was no gradual transition, no slow dawn, no progressive dissipation of the shadows.

It simply happened.

In one instant, everything was still drowned in the oppressive night that had accompanied Vergil’s state. In the next, the light returned with a clean, violent force.

The red sky reappeared, the great exposed sun cast its harsh light over the entire expanse of that world once more, and the landscapes hidden beneath the darkness became visible again.

The plains, the rock formations, the energy structures, and the inner marks of Vergil’s existence returned to their usual aspect.

Yet, the six moons remained above, visible even in broad daylight, suspended as permanent signs that something new had been incorporated into that place.

Nivara raised an eyebrow and looked around, both troubled and relieved.

Crymsaria breathed a deeper breath, as if the mere return of the light confirmed something important.

Qliphoth remained serene, but even she seemed to register the change with extra attention.

Itharine was the first to verbalize the most obvious conclusion. She raised her eyes to the renewed sky, observed the sun back in its usual place, and then spoke calmly:

"I think the master has returned to normal."

Nivara let out a short noise.

"If this is his normal now, then the problem isn’t me."

Crymsaria didn’t respond immediately. She was still looking at the moons floating above the inner world, now contrasting against the red light of the restored sky.

"Normal might not be the right word," she finally said. "But he’s returned to a state where he can organize himself internally."

Qliphoth supported the idea with a simple nod.

"The total darkness was a reflection of a momentary emotional imbalance, probably fueled by Wrath and the other newly incorporated Authorities. The return of the light means he has begun to suppress the excess again."

She looked at the sky. "The fact that the moons remain there means the power hasn’t gone away. It’s just been put in order."

Itharine crossed her arms and looked up, serious, but no longer with the unease of before.

"So now he carries all of this in a stable way."

Qliphoth nodded.

"For now."

Nivara made a slight grimace.

"That wasn’t reassuring."

Qliphoth didn’t change his expression.

"It wasn’t meant to be."