My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 240 : The consequences of the battle

Vergil reappeared, crashing onto the floor of the mansion, his body as heavy as lead. The impact made the ground tremble slightly, but he didn't even try to soften his fall. Exhaustion hit him all at once, as if his body had finally realized the insane load it had endured.

"Ah... ah..." Panting, he felt every muscle protest, every cell scream in defiance. The battle had been intense, and as much as he hated to admit it, it had ended in a draw.

"Damn it... stop this shit." He muttered while trying to lift his arms, but they simply refused to respond. "I said stop." His voice carried a rising irritation, and then, as if his own body feared him, the energy that immobilized him receded.

"Shit... I... I got hit..." He whispered between ragged breaths, his mind trying to reconstruct the exact moment that attack had affected him. His body was overheating, his veins pulsing as if they were about to burst through his skin.

"It was the moment you appeared in front of him."

The voice cut through his thoughts, and as he lifted his gaze, he saw two female figures watching him. Sapphire and Sepphirothy didn't look pleased.

"Seriously, if you're going to lecture me, just do it already." Vergil scoffed, rubbing his head, feeling his body already starting to recover at an exponential rate.

Sapphire approached without hesitation, crouched in front of him, and grabbed his face, roughly turning it to the side. Her expression darkened as she examined his neck.

"You got distracted." Her voice carried a mixture of anger and concern.

Vergil didn't understand at first, but as he felt her touch, he realized it. His veins were pulsating intensely, and a black discoloration was spreading from a single point on his neck, as if the flesh around it was slowly necrotizing.

"I wasn't exactly in a position to analyze every little detail, considering I was fighting three opponents at once." He retorted irritably.

"Is that so?" Sepphirothy leaned in, her eyes scrutinizing the wound carefully. "Death Curse… just like the one they used on Viviane. But this time, that bastard actually meant to kill you."

She raised her hand, a purple and golden glow radiating from her fingers as she traced runes in the air. The magical power condensed, forming a mystical circle filled with ancient symbols.

"Hazgad Baxxe."

The words resonated in a forgotten language, and a wave of energy swept through Vergil's body. The burning pain was quickly replaced by immediate relief as the remnants of the curse were eradicated.

Vergil exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of death dissipate. But the rage… that still burned.

He ran a hand over his neck, where the corruption of the curse had once pulsed like a cancer. Now, nothing remained but a faint tingling sensation.

"So that was it..." He murmured, his eyes fixed on a distant point as his mind replayed the events of the battle.

"This time, you got lucky." Sepphirothy stood up, crossing her arms. "If we hadn't sealed that curse quickly, your body would already be rotting from the inside."

Vergil scoffed, pressing his hands against the floor and forcing himself to stand. His legs still felt heavy, as if molten lead coursed through his veins, but he refused to show any weakness.

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"Yeah, I figured that much." He cracked his neck, as if trying to shake off the lingering discomfort. "But that bastard won't get a second chance."

Sapphire remained silent for a few seconds before sighing.

"Vergil, you do realize what this means, right?"

He raised an eyebrow, looking at her. "It means that next time, I'll rip that damn Specter's head off."

She shook her head. "It means they were prepared for you. This wasn't an accident. They knew you would show up, and they had something ready to stop you."

Vergil fell silent for a moment.

She wasn't wrong.

Specter, Dante, Seraphina, and Lucian… that hadn't been a random encounter. It was as if they had been waiting for him.

Vergil's gaze sharpened.

"So they want to play." He smirked, but there was no humor in it—only a cold, razor-sharp edge. "Good. Because now, I'm going to play too."

Sepphirothy and Sapphire exchanged glances. They recognized that tone. Vergil could be impulsive, arrogant, and completely chaotic, but when he spoke like that… it meant someone was about to die.

And this time, it was going to be personal.

"Alright, now let's—" Vergil tried to straighten up, but as soon as he put weight on his legs, his body gave out. The world spun for a brief moment, and before he could hit the ground, firm arms caught him.

Sapphire steadied him against her, holding him effortlessly.

"You always do this." She grumbled, her voice carrying a mix of irritation and concern. "Throw yourself into the middle of death and then act like nothing happened."

Vergil let out a low chuckle, even as his muscles burned in protest.

"I'm fine." He murmured, trying to pull away, but she held him firmly.

"No, you're not." Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

He sighed, leaning part of his weight on her, feeling the warmth of her body against his. Sapphire wasn't exactly gentle, but if she was worried, it meant things were worse than he wanted to admit.

Sepphirothy stepped closer, scanning Vergil from head to toe.

"You're burning up from the inside out." She observed, watching how his skin still pulsed with residual heat. "Your body tanked the damage during the fight, but now that the adrenaline's gone, it's collecting the price."

Vergil scoffed.

"Great. That means I'm still alive."

Sapphire rolled her eyes.

"Idiot." She muttered, adjusting his weight against her. "Come on, let's get you out of here before you faceplant into the floor."

For the first time that night, Vergil didn't protest. He simply accepted the help without complaint.

Sapphire and Sepphirothy practically dragged Vergil toward the living room. His steps were heavy—not because he was difficult to carry, but because he was still trying to move on his own, which only made things more frustrating.

"Stop fighting it, for fuck's sake." Sapphire grumbled, tightening her grip on him. "If you want to act tough, do it when you're not about to pass out."

Vergil rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Deep down, he knew that if he tried to walk alone, he'd probably collapse halfway there.

When they reached the living room, the others were already there—Katharina, Roxanne, Ada, Stella, and Raphaeline. As soon as they saw his condition, their expressions ranged from concern to sheer exasperation.

Without ceremony, Sapphire and Sepphirothy dumped him onto the couch, and Vergil landed heavily against the soft cushions.

"What the hell was that?" Katharina raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"We're just treating him the way he deserves." Sepphirothy answered, wiping her hands as if she had just gotten rid of a burden.

"You guys have a weird way of showing affection." Roxanne remarked, her voice laced with amusement as she stepped closer to get a better look at him.

Vergil scoffed, rubbing his forehead.

"Do all of you have something against me or what?"

Ada chuckled softly.

"Not against you. Just against your habit of always coming back all messed up."

Stella sighed, crouching down beside him.

"Let me guess—you took on a bigger problem than you should've and almost died in the process?"

Raphaeline simply shook her head.

"You never learn."

Vergil closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly before flashing a tired smirk. "Well… if I didn't do it, who would?"

He scoffed and spoke. "My three wives are lazy beauties, my two mothers-in-law are limited, my Sapphire is insane, my mother…" Vergil trailed off, looking at Sepphirothy. "She's just… her."

The women exchanged glances—some rolling their eyes, others simply sighing.

Katharina then pulled up a chair, sitting across from him, resting her chin on her hand.

"Alright, then talk. What happened out there? What did you find out?"

Vergil smirked slightly, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over his shoulders.

He knew this conversation was going to be a long one.

[At a Motorcycle Club, a little ways outside of Los Angeles]

The bar at the motorcycle club was dimly lit, thick with the scent of gasoline, leather, and alcohol. The muffled sound of an old blues tune played from a jukebox, blending with the chatter of bikers scattered around the place—some playing pool, others laughing loudly as they passed around bottles of cheap whiskey.

Alexa sat alone on one of the high bar stools, her half-empty beer bottle spinning idly between her fingers as her thoughts hammered relentlessly.

Vergil.

The way he treated her.

As if she were fragile. As if she needed protection.

She frowned, taking a long swig of beer, trying to drown out that irritating feeling rising in her chest.

That was when she noticed the presence beside her.

A man took a seat on the stool next to hers, tossing a pack of cigarettes onto the counter and gesturing for the bartender to fill a glass of bourbon.

"You're far from home, sister."

The rough, familiar voice made Alexa freeze for a moment.

Her eyes narrowed even before she turned her head, instincts already sharpening. And then, when she finally looked beside her, she saw a face she hadn't seen in years…

"Brother?" Her voice came out in a near-incredulous whisper.

The man in front of her smirked slightly—a smirk laced with nostalgia and something else… something dark.

He raised a hand, pulling down the collar of his shirt just enough to reveal the edge of a long, deep scar cutting across his chest.