My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 346

Chapter 346: Seris D’Arkhan, The Queen of Witches (Part. II)
Seris stopped in the middle of the room, as if something invisible had whispered in her ear.

Her eyes turned to the ceiling, shining with an awareness that went beyond the physical world.

“Hm…” she murmured, her head tilted slightly. “It seems they’ve identified me…”

The tension in the room intensified.

She pursed her lips, almost like a child bored with a broken toy, and then smiled—that wide, bright, and utterly insane smile.

“Let me see… oh… Sapphire and Sepphirothy…” She savored the names as if reading the menu of a particularly dangerous restaurant. “They’re coming pretty fast. How lovely.”

Before anyone could react, she turned to Vergil. “Time’s up, dear.”

And, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she simply picked him up. No warning, no ceremony. As if she were picking up a sack of potatoes…

Vergil had no time to react. The gravity of the reality around them seemed to fail for an instant. He felt his body enveloped in an energy that was neither arcane nor demonic—it was something that predated both.

“Let’s go to my realm!” she said, with disproportionate enthusiasm, smiling like a satisfied maniac.

With a snap of her fingers, a portal opened behind her—not a common magic circle, but a pulsating, undulating rift with colors that seemed not to belong to the visible spectrum. The smell of burning roses and fresh blood escaped from the opening, like a promise.

And before the broken silence could be restored…

They disappeared.

The air was sucked into the crack with a sharp crack. And then — nothing.

Except for a small note, floating gently to the ground, like an autumn leaf that refuses to fall too quickly.

It landed delicately next to Alice’s unconscious body.

The paper was thin, blackened at the edges, and the words seemed to have been written in living ink — they pulsed slightly, like a heart that was still beating.

A few seconds later…

…The atmosphere in the room still seemed impregnated with Seris’ presence… as if the walls had absorbed some of her madness. The shadows were slow to settle, and the air still had a strange, metallic taste, like blood and ancient magic.

Then the air tore with two sequential, short, precise cracks—like blades piercing dimensional veils.

Two figures appeared in the center of the hall.

The first was Sapphire — slender, clad in light, enchanted armor, her red hair floating even without wind. Her eyes were two cut emerald stones, cold and lethal, though they hid a core of explosive heat ready to burst forth.

The second was Sepphirothy — more restrained in posture, but with an even more intense presence. Her eyes were opaque like gathering storms, and there was a supernatural silence that always accompanied her. Unlike Sapphire, who carried raw anger, Sepphirothy was the storm that comes after the explosion.

Both stopped at the same moment — like predators sensing the smell of blood — and surveyed the scene.

Four bodies on the floor.

Morgana, Katharina, Viviane… and Alice.

None of them were injured. All unconscious. No sign of a battle.

Sapphire was the first to move. She knelt beside Viviane, checking her pulse with a quick, almost clinical touch.

“They’re alive…” she murmured, with restrained relief. “It was… that bitch. She came, took him, and disappeared.” She frowned. “Slut.”

That’s when she noticed the note.

It was still hovering above the floor, floating slightly, as if defying gravity itself. Almost provocative.

Sapphire picked it up with two fingers, turning it in her hand before reading aloud:

“Hello my dear demon friends, I’m going to steal your husband. You understand, right? I mean, I’ve picked up this kidnapping habit from you guys (^o^)/ Signed: S. D’Arkhan 🌙”

There was absolute silence for half a second.

Until Sapphire exploded. “THAT DAMN—!”

The energy around her body crackled like breaking glass. Her eyes lit up with pure fury—not hysterical rage, but a specific kind of concentrated hatred that is only seen in lovers betrayed by forces they don’t even understand.

The note caught fire in her hand, without her even noticing. The flame was blue and white, silent, and consumed the paper in seconds, leaving only a sparkling trail of magical smoke in the air.

“She took him… to her kingdom.” Sapphire growled, more to herself than to Sepphirothy. “The Queen of Witches — how did that madwoman get past us?”

Sepphirothy calmly approached Alice, kneeling beside her. His fingers hovered over the girl’s forehead, and for a moment she closed her eyes.

“Seris…” she murmured, as if pronouncing a sentence. “I will kill her.”

Viviane began to move, letting out a soft moan—the first to awaken. Her eyes opened and she focused on Sapphire and Sepphirothy standing like black towers against the light slowly returning to the room.

“She took him…” Viviane whispered. “She took Vergil…”

Sapphire gritted her teeth. “I know. But now, we can only wait…”

Sepphirothy nodded. “Let’s wait calmly. In her realm, only she can enter.”

…

Vergil felt the world twist around him—as if he were being swallowed by a whirlpool of distorted lights and whispered sounds in languages that even his soul did not recognize. For an instant, there was a total absence of everything: no weight, no sound, no thought. Only the sensation of crossing an ancient and forbidden veil.

And then, completely unceremoniously, he fell.

Thump!

Like a sack of potatoes thrown with disdain, Vergil was thrown to the ground. His body fell on something absurdly soft — not moss, not earth, but grass of an impossible green, vibrant and fresh, as if it had just been born to cushion his fall.

The impact was soft, but his dignity? That was stuck somewhere in the multiverse.

He lay there for a moment, on his back, staring at the sky above.

And the sky…

It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

There was no visible sun, but the light was golden, warm, and gentle, like the embrace of a long-lost loved one. The air was light, perfumed with notes of exotic flowers and damp leaves. The smell of life — of nature in its purest form, as if the essence of the world had been distilled to perfection.

The sky itself was like a living canvas: golden clouds moved slowly through hues ranging from pale blue to lavender, like the careful brushstrokes of a divine artist. Birds with translucent wings crossed the skies, leaving trails of soft light in their wake.

Around him, fields rippled gently in the wind, filled with flowers that obeyed no logic: some had metallic tones, others whispered almost imperceptible songs. Tall, elegant trees swayed their crowns with silent grace—their leaves seemed to be made of colored glass, and yet they were alive.

It was a heavenly environment, but not in the traditional divine sense.

It was not the heaven of the scriptures.

It was the heaven of an ancient witch, shaped according to her own distorted vision of paradise.

Beauty… yes. But beneath it, something pulsed. Something dangerous, deep, like a forest where birdsong serves not as comfort, but as warning.

And then she appeared in his field of vision—Seris, framed against the surreal sky, smiling down like a child who had just brought her favorite toy home.

“Ahhh… you fell right in!” she said, spinning in the air and landing next to him, her legs crossed as if they were at a picnic.

Vergil stared at the sky for another second, then closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“I didn’t realize your creativity was that great.”

Seris just laughed, as if he had just told the best joke in the world.