My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 215

Chapter 215: The Shadow Monarch
“I’ve been ignoring a lot of things lately, haven’t I?” Vergil said, his voice laced with restrained irritation as he fixed his gaze on Ashborne. “My wife being kidnapped. Attacks from the Vatican. A hellish meeting full of useless fools… But you know what?” He raised his eyes, now sharp as a blade. “I’m going to kill you.”

Ashborne raised an eyebrow, dropping Stella as if she were disposable. Her battered body hit the ground with a dull thud.

“Is that so?” Ashborne retorted disdainfully, a smug smile curling on his lips. “You and how many others?”

But before he could even finish speaking, a shiver ran down his spine—a primal warning of imminent danger.

He never even saw Vergil move. In the blink of an eye, Vergil was behind him, his overwhelming presence impossible to ignore.

Vergil knelt beside Stella, momentarily disregarding Ashborne. He extended a hand, touching her gently. “I’ll heal you. I’m sorry someone dared to hurt you like this.”

Rage boiled within him as his demonic energy began to flow.

Sapphire was right… Stella wasn’t a fighter. She’s more like a mage… That coward attacked her without even giving her a chance to defend herself.

Under Vergil’s absolute control, his energy began to rebuild Stella’s mutilated body. New arms grew as if molded by his sheer will, and her leg was restored to perfection, as if it had never been destroyed.

Stella’s eyes, now more vibrant, focused on Vergil. She parted her lips, her voice weak and barely audible: “Please… if you kill him… I’ll be yours…”

Vergil placed a hand on her forehead, a gesture of comfort. “Rest.”

Rising to his feet, he finally turned his attention to Ashborne. In his hand, the Sacro-Demonic Yamato materialized, its blade radiating a strange, overwhelming aura that seemed capable of cutting not just flesh but essence itself.

“I wonder,” Vergil began, his voice cold as steel, “what drives a man to act like this against his own family?”

His gaze bore into Ashborne as the room seemed to tremble under the weight of his presence.

Ashborne narrowed his eyes, but the smug smile on his face began to falter. The chill running down his spine was undeniable. Vergil wasn’t an ordinary opponent; he was something beyond—a predator at the apex—and Ashborne felt it now more than ever.

“You talk about family as if you understand what it means,” Ashborne growled, trying to regain control of the situation. “But family is weakness. Foolish sentimentality that only drags people down.”

Vergil tilted his head slightly, his expression unchanging. “Weakness? No. Family is what gives us purpose, something you’ve clearly never understood.”

He stepped forward, the sound echoing through the hall—a forewarning of what was to come. “You’re a waste of time.”

Ashborne roared, trying to push back against the suffocating weight of Vergil’s presence. “I am Ashborne! The one who shapes kingdoms and commands hordes! You’re nothing but an insect that needs to be crushed!”

With a swift motion, Ashborne charged, his own demonic energy erupting around him like a black tempest. His hands, sharp as blades, lashed out with full force, aiming to strike Vergil down.

But Vergil was no longer there.

In a blur, he vanished, reappearing directly above Ashborne. The Sacro-Demonic Yamato glowed with a cold light as Vergil struck. The blade sliced through the air, emitting an almost ethereal sound before finding its mark.

Ashborne barely managed to block the strike, crossing his arms in a desperate defense. Even so, the force of the attack hurled him backward, smashing him against one of the hall’s walls. The structure trembled from the impact, cracks spreading across the surface like a spider’s web.

Vergil landed softly, his eyes fixed on his fallen opponent. “Your strength means nothing without purpose,” he said, his voice low but razor-sharp. “And the only purpose you’ll serve today is as an example.”

Ashborne rose with difficulty, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. He glared at Vergil with pure fury. “You think you’ve already won? I am eternal! Your blade cannot—”

Vergil moved again, but this time the strike wasn’t meant to injure—it was meant to humiliate. The blade of Yamato passed close to Ashborne’s face, cutting a single strand of hair, but the sheer force of the attack was enough to make the ground beneath his feet collapse.

“If you call yourself eternal, then let’s see how enduring your arrogance truly is,” Vergil said coldly, stepping closer once more.

Ashborne roared, releasing all of his energy in a desperate attack. The hall was consumed by an explosion of darkness and fire, but Vergil stood unmoving at its center, the energy around him dispersing as though powerless in his presence.

“It’s over,” Vergil declared, raising Yamato. “You’ve done this to yourself.”

“Rise.”

Ashborne’s words echoed throughout the hall, laced with sinister power. From the cracks in the floor and the shadows on the walls, figures began to emerge. They were wraiths cloaked in blackened auras, their eyes glowing like embers in the void. Each carried twisted weapons, their presence exuding a deathly cold that seemed to drain the life from the air around them.

Vergil watched in silence as the creatures formed a line between him and Ashborne. An army of shadows, spectral entities summoned by the ancient power wielded by Ashborne as the Death Knight.

“Ah, yes…” Vergil murmured, his voice almost contemplative as he studied the wraiths. “The power of the Shadow Monarch… or rather, the Death Knight.”

Ashborne smiled with malicious satisfaction. “You know my title, then. So you must understand—no one has ever faced this power and lived. These warriors are souls I’ve torn from the depths, soldiers who will never rest as long as I exist.”

The wraiths advanced, moving like a tide of darkness toward Vergil. The ground shook under the weight of their combined energies, and a collective scream erupted from them—the anguished cries of tormented souls seeking vengeance.

Vergil sighed, lifting the Sacro-Demonic Yamato with calm precision. His gaze remained locked on Ashborne, entirely disregarding the army that surrounded him.

“Dead soldiers make no difference in a one-on-one fight.”

With a swift and precise motion, Vergil swung his sword in a flawless arc. There was no excessive force, only devastating elegance. A crimson light cut through the air, expanding in a wave around him.

When the strike ended, the hall fell into absolute silence. The wraiths froze in place, their forms flickering like dying flames. Then, in an instant, they began to disintegrate, turning into black dust that vanished into the ether.

Ashborne’s eyes widened, his expression a mix of disbelief and rage.

“You destroyed my army… with a single strike?”

Vergil stepped forward, each movement radiating suffocating pressure. He didn’t respond, only tilted his head slightly, as if to say it had been trivial.

“Sapphire taught me many things, and my mother, Sepphirothy, taught me even more,” Vergil said with a faint smile.

Ashborne roared once more, the energy around him erupting into a hurricane of darkness. “I am eternal! You cannot defeat me!”

Vergil stared at him with icy composure, raising the Yamato once again. “Eternity is only a matter of perspective. And now, I’ll free you from it.”

He surged forward, his speed so immense it seemed to merge with the darkness itself. Ashborne attempted to react, but his energy, his attacks, and his cries of fury were silenced by a single, decisive movement.

The blade of Yamato cleaved through the air and Ashborne’s very soul, a strike so precise it seemed to momentarily split time itself.

Ashborne froze, his body trembling. His energy began to dissipate, and a faint glow emanated from within him, like a dying flame.

“Impossible…” he murmured, collapsing to his knees. “I… am eternal…”

Vergil gazed at him, unmoved. “Eternity ends here.”

With those words, Ashborne’s body unraveled, fracturing into shadows that faded into the void, leaving behind only silence in the ruined hall.

Vergil exhaled softly, lowering his sword as the Yamato’s glow dimmed. He turned, walking toward the protective energy barrier where Stella and Roxanne were shielded.

“The past will no longer hold power over your future,” he said, his voice resolute.

“Hm?” He paused, glancing back.

Floating in the air was a strange orb of fire and shadow, dark and ethereal, as though it was calling to him.