My Wives are Beautiful Demons - Chapter 348

Chapter 348: One in a Billion
The soft light of Salem bathed everything around him like a dream — or a delirium. The white tea table among the clouds seemed to float above reality itself, with such delicacy that Vergil wondered if any sudden movement would make it fall.

But it wasn’t the landscape that made him uncomfortable.

It was the presence of Seris, sitting on the other side of the table like a goddess on vacation — her legs crossed, a porcelain cup in her hands, and that smile on her lips. A smile that hid a thousand secrets… and an apocalypse or two.

Vergil, still seated, but visibly impatient, crossed his arms. His eyes scanned the surroundings, as if looking for a way out even though he knew there was none.

“Tell me what you want, Seris,” he said, his voice firm, although his eyes carried a shadow of tiredness. “I understand that you like to play with the scenery, but I still have a lot to do…”

Seris set down her cup with a soft clink, and then leaned forward a little, her elbows resting on the table, her chin resting on her clasped hands. Her smile grew a little, almost affectionate.

“So direct…” she said, delighted. “A rarity among demons. They hardly like to be direct.”

She paused, her eyes dancing over Vergil’s face as if she were reading it, layer by layer.

“Very well then, no frills.” Her voice lost its playful tone for a brief moment, becoming serious. “I want to know your intentions with this world…”

The silence that followed was thick, but soon she continued, and the smile returned — this time sharper. “…and, of course… with my daughter.”

Vergil blinked slowly, absorbing the weight of the question. The name rang like a bell in his chest — Morgana.

Seris watched him with fascination, like a snake enchanted by a bird that dares not to flee.

“I don’t care about this world.” Vergil was short and blunt, “But it needs to exist for me to be at peace with my wives. It’s simple. I don’t care, I just do what I want, and live how I want…”

“Quite funny… coming from someone who personally watched a god kill a Pope,” she joked.

His eyes looked at her. “What can I do? I’m a fair guy.” Vergil said, looking at her. “I don’t tolerate anyone laying a finger on children. Much less manipulating my dear maids.” The possession became almost palpable when he spoke of the maids…

“Oh… so you have that side.” Seris hid her smile with her hand.

“I must admit…” Seris began, intertwining her fingers on the ethereal table, her tone soft as silk, but with something electric in the air. “When I first studied you, I thought you would be just another story. A footnote in the cosmic tapestry. But…” she smiled, a dangerous, amused glint in her eyes, “I really liked what I read.”

With a casual gesture, a small portal opened above her palm. It gave off no light or heat, only the faint sound of pages rustling in the wind. From within, she withdrew something that shouldn’t be there: an ancient tome, bound in black leather, with corners reinforced with tarnished silver and a pentagram carved deeply into the cover.

“A skill of mine. An imperfect replica, of course, but I call it the Akashic Records,” she said, caressing the book devotedly. “It’s not the original, but it has allowed me to name every part of the story… from my birth to this moment.” She looked up. “And this…”

She opened the book with a dry clap, revealing pages written in ink that seemed alive.

“…is your record.”

Seris laughed—a light, almost musical sound.

“Named Vergil, by the will of the sole heir of Lucifer and Lilith, you carry within you more than meets the eye. A direct offshoot of Sepphirothy—the third most powerful demon to ever walk the worlds. She herself split her own soul to give birth to you.”

Vergil frowned, his jaw clenched.

“Your upbringing is… interesting,” she continued, flipping through the pages with delicate fingers. “A fake father, a world infested with supernatural creatures, and a childhood shrouded in secrets. Your best friend, Alexa Wykes, for example… future queen of the werewolves. And you? An ordinary boy… at least on the surface.”

She shrugged, as if telling gossip.

“Popular, athletic, famous among humans. But it all came crashing down when Katharina Agares—Sapphire’s own daughter—forced his true nature to awaken. This was no simple transformation…it was a collision of destinies. A pact rewritten. His soul merged with theirs. What was a contract became a marriage of souls.”

She closed the book with a soft snap.

“Romantic, don’t you think?”

“Enough.” Vergil’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

He stood, fists clenched, eyes stormy.

“You talk about my life as if it were a show. As if I were a character in your hands. But this is not a story, Seris. And I am not your toy.”

Seris just smiled. That provocative calm… as if he had just done exactly what she wanted.

“Ah, my dear…” she said, her smile now softer, almost sad. “But that is exactly why you are so interesting. I bet many people would read about your story.” She smiled, as if she were talking about something beyond this world.

“I must admit, I would love to be the author of this work, it is quite chaotic to think like that.” She said with a laugh.

“If that was all… send me away.” Vergil said, dryly, with his jaw clenched. He was exhausted from that verbal dance, impatient, as if each word exchanged with Seris wore down his patience more.

But Seris did not flinch. She just looked at him — and smiled.

“I want to help you, Vergil,” she said, without a trace of irony. “And I will. In whatever way you want. I only ask for one little thing in return…” She snapped her fingers with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Let me be little Alice’s teacher.”

Vergil’s eyes widened, but before any words could escape his mouth, Seris had already changed the course of the conversation like a whirlwind changes direction.

The topic of the conversation changed completely. Vergil then realized… Nothing was really about him… Everything was about…

“Alice… oh, Alice…” — Seris whispered the name as if it were a forbidden incantation, her entire body vibrating with an almost childlike enthusiasm. “She is, indisputably, the most extraordinary being who has ever existed. More talented than I. Much more! And that is… absolutely, deliciously terrifying!”

She stood up with a spin, arms raised as if summoning the grandeur of the cosmos itself.

“At less than fourteen years old, she has already mastered all — ALL — the basic magics. And not satisfied with that, she began to synthesize new ones. Creating from scratch! She has developed hybrid spells that I only dreamed of envisioning or gave up on due to their complexity. She is already on the second Path, Vergil! Second! And not only that… she has understood the fundamental structure of magical creation and is already sketching out her own!”

Seris twirled around the tea table like a ballerina in ecstasy, and the ground beneath her feet created little golden flowers that sprouted with each step.

“When Morgana came to ask me to train her, do you know what I did? I refused.” She placed a hand on her chest, as if it were a sacred sacrifice. “Because if I touched her at that moment, if I trained her at that stage… I would transform her into a goddess in half a week! Half out of excitement. Half out of pure vanity.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes sparkling like cosmic jewels.

“But there is a code, you know? An ethic. Supreme witches… don’t shape prodigies. We don’t interfere. We watch. We let potential reach its own climax. And with Alice, my God, Vergil… the climax will be transcendental.”

She leaned across the table, very close to him now, eyes wide, whispering as if she were telling a divine secret:

“She created a system of magic of her own. From scratch. A system that surpasses anything witches like me have created in thousands of years. She reinvented magic… in less than a year? That’s not talent. That’s destiny. That’s cataclysm.”

She pulled away again, spinning one last time, her hair flying, the sky responding with a pink and blue glow.

“A genius in a billion! Alice is the exception that breaks even the divine statistic.”

And then she stopped. Serious for a second.

“All I ask… is to be around. To see what she’ll become. To… maybe… show me a shortcut or two if she’ll let me. Do you understand, Vergil?”

She smiled—and this time, it was almost reverent.

“She’s going to rewrite the world. And I want to be in the front row.”