My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 246: Search and Destroy

Vergil remained motionless, his blue eyes locked on the woman’s green ones. The air around them seemed to vibrate, charged with tension, as if at any moment something would explode. But... nothing happened. Just silence, as dense as the darkness that surrounded them.

Alexa exhaled heavily and sank into the chair, the weight of what she was feeling almost crushing her body. With trembling hands, she picked up the whisky glass again, poured herself a drink and then poured another glass for him.

"Then at least drink with me..." Her voice came out low, hoarse, almost defeated. She turned the glass over, the alcohol burning her throat, but it wasn’t enough to burn away the hatred inside her. "I know you won’t do what I asked."

Vergil picked up the glass without saying a word and downed the liquid in one go. The silence dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Then he finally spoke.

"Curea."

The word sounded like an absolute command, charged with an ancient power. It didn’t just sound like an order - it was a sentence. The air around them became heavy, charged with an energy that smelled of sulphur and death.

Suddenly, a liquid darkness began to ooze from Vergil’s palm. A black, viscous mass, pulsating as if it had a life of its own. The symbiote crawled through the air, moving with macabre purpose, reaching out towards Alexa like skeletal fingers in search of flesh.

She was paralyzed the moment it touched her skin. Cold ran through her body like a river of ice, her breathing stopped. The symbiote fused with her flesh, sinking into her empty orbit, and then... the pain began.

It wasn’t a gentle process. It was as if a thousand needles were sewing a new eye into her, fiber by fiber, vein by vein. She felt her blood boiling, flowing backwards like a river running in reverse, returning to her body from the dirty, soggy ground.

Alexa gasped, bringing her hand to her face, feeling the skin healing, the bones reforming, the flesh regenerating as if nothing had happened.

Vergil watched his own hands, his eyes squinted. "My blood manipulation is weak..." He muttered, almost to himself, as if disappointed in his own power.

Alexa could barely process what was happening. "What did you...?" His voice died away as Vergil stood up.

He looked around at the torn bodies of the pack.

"Their rest won’t be like this."

He raised one hand, and the world seemed to hold its breath. The blood scattered on the ground began to move, snaking like dark rivers towards the mutilated bodies. The smell of iron hung heavy in the air.

The pools of blood returned to their owners, penetrating their wounds, sewing muscles, gluing bones, reforming faces that had been reduced to unrecognizable flesh.

The dead began to change. Their previously destroyed forms returned to normal, each one being rebuilt as if they had never been touched by death.

Alexa watched, paralyzed, as the impossible happened before her newly reformed eyes. The hall, once a cold and cruel massacre, now became something even more terrible.

"Strange..." Vergil thought, watching his own hand, slowly turning it over as if trying to understand something invisible about himself. The power had flowed from him like an instinct, a will that took shape effortlessly, but... something was wrong. He didn’t know exactly how he had done it.

The bodies, once disfigured, now lay intact on the ground, as if they had never been touched by the carnage. The smell of blood still permeated the air, but the sight of the massacre had been erased.

"Ashborne..." He muttered, the name escaping his lips like an echo of something buried in his mind. Something he should remember, but which remained out of reach.

Vergil raised his hand slowly, and the bodies responded.

One by one, the corpses rose from the ground, levitating lifelessly, suspended by an invisible force. Their limbs hung in the air like puppets without strings, their empty eyes reflecting the dim light of their surroundings.

They floated silently, their bodies hovering in the air like spectres caught between life and death. The surrounding environment seemed to hold its breath, plunged into a suffocating silence, as if the world itself feared disturbing that unholy moment.

Vergil remained motionless for a moment, his cold eyes analyzing the figures suspended before him. Then, without looking away, his voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade:

"Where do you want me to take them?"

Alexa didn’t answer immediately. Her hands trembled slightly as they reached for the eye patch, undoing it with almost ceremonial slowness. When she finally removed it, her eyes, now regenerated, reflected the light with an intense, dark glow.

She blinked a few times, feeling the freedom of that restored gaze. For the first time since the massacre, there was no darkness in her vision - only the image of the dead, motionless in the air, waiting for a fate that only she could decide.

Alexa took a deep breath before answering, her voice carrying a quiet weight.

"There’s a forest a few kilometers from here... a place where they can truly rest."

Vergil merely nodded, without needing any further explanation. With a subtle movement of his hand, the bodies levitated in their silent orbit as he followed Alexa out of the motorcycle club. The smell of blood and gunpowder still permeated the air, but outside, the night was cold and still, as if the world itself was watching in expectation.

As soon as they stepped outside, they ran into Katharina and Ada, who were standing at the entrance, their gazes full of questions that had never been asked.

Vergil stared at them for a moment before giving a slight smile - an almost imperceptible gesture, but real.

"Go home. I’ll be back soon." Without waiting for an answer, he moved on, the bodies hovering behind him...

As they walked along the deserted road, the only sound was the wind cutting through the trees and the rustle of dry leaves under their feet. The bodies still floated in a spectral silence behind them, like ownerless shadows. The night seemed denser, carried by something invisible and unsettling.

Alexa, now without her eye patch, squinted at Vergil. His face was expressionless, but there was something different about him. Something that went beyond his usual coldness.

"Why are you like this?" She broke the silence, her voice low but firm.

Vergil didn’t answer immediately. He continued walking, his gaze lost ahead, as if he were somewhere else. As if he were trapped in thoughts that even he didn’t understand.

Finally, after a few seconds that seemed eternal, he exhaled slowly.

"I don’t know." His voice was lower than usual, almost a whisper, but laden with an uncomfortable truth. "I don’t like people touching what’s mine." He said suddenly, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable weight. "Even if it’s a friend."

Alexa paused for a second, surprised by his words. She watched him with a penetrating gaze, trying to decipher what he really meant. His tone wasn’t one of possession or exaggerated protection. It was something deeper, almost primitive.

"Vergil..." She began, but he didn’t look at her.

"I don’t like it when they take something from me." He continued, almost as if he were talking to himself. "And even less when they try to take something that I haven’t even realized I valued."

Alexa felt a shiver run down her spine. It wasn’t a direct confession, but it was the closest Vergil would come to one. She looked away for a moment, not knowing exactly how to respond.

As dusk approached, the sky began to turn a deep blue, with long, heavy shadows stretching across the forest. The moon began to appear, pale and distant, like a silent spectator. The air was colder now, laden with the smell of damp earth and the echo of nocturnal animals beginning to move in the shadows.

Vergil and Alexa reached the clearing, where the trees formed a closed circle, and the darkness seemed to deepen there, swallowing everything around them. The bodies floated behind them, heavy and silent, like spectres ready to say goodbye to a violent existence.

Vergil didn’t say a word. He raised his hands slowly, his fingers stretching in a precise movement. The energy around him seemed to concentrate, an invisible force that reverberated in the earth beneath his feet. In an almost imperceptible gesture, he used his telekinesis, pulling at the earth with a dark power.

The ground began to move, to heave, as if something was forcing its way in, and then, slowly, the pits began to open up. The sound of the earth being crushed and shifted was profound, as if the forest itself was being dragged into an abyss. The pits were deep, perfect in their symmetry, as if made by invisible, implacable hands.

He made them wide enough to accommodate their bodies, but no wider than necessary. His every move was precise, without hesitation, as if he had done it thousands of times before. When the last grave was dug, he stepped back, the bodies floating around him like puppets without strings.

With another wave of his hand, he made the stones and boulders that were scattered throughout the forest move, large and heavy, rising from the ground and falling into the pits with a muffled thud. They were deposited in layers, covering the bodies in a rudimentary but effective way. The sound of the stones mingled with the murmur of the breeze, creating a symphony of farewell, sombre and irreversible.

When he had finished, he looked at the graves, the bodies now buried under the earth and stones. The job was done. But something in his eyes, a distant shadow, indicated that the pain and anger he carried were still far from being buried.

The moon was already high in the sky when Vergil put his hand on Alexa’s shoulder, his touch firm but surprisingly light.

"Take your time."

His voice sounded low, almost a whisper among the rustling leaves. Without waiting for an answer, he disappeared, his presence dissolving into the air like a fleeting shadow.

He reappeared at the top of a nearby hill, from where he had a clear view of the clearing below. Alexa was kneeling in front of the makeshift graves, her eyes fixed on the silent scene, absorbing the reality of the moment. The only living witness to a massacre that now lay beneath the cold earth.

Vergil looked away.

"Can you do me a favor?"

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His voice cut through the silence of the night, but he wasn’t talking to Alexa. He was talking to something - or someone - that had yet to show itself.

A soft, teasing laugh brushed his ears like a warm breath. "I keep wondering... when did you realize?"

Before she could react, she felt a body pressing against her back, slender arms slithering around her waist like hungry serpents. The scent that accompanied her was sweet, but charged with something primal, wild - a scent of destruction and desire.

"Mmm..." Paimon’s voice was almost a purr as she buried her face against him, inhaling deeply. "Smell of rage... of blood... so intoxicating."

Vergil didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, impassive.

"I have no position to hold as Demon King as far as I know." He said, his voice cold but carrying a veiled insinuation. "Initially, it was just to balance the power."

Paimon laughed against her skin, his warm breath running along the contour of her neck. She tightened her embrace, dragging her nails lightly against his chest. "Yes, it’s true. You’re a Demon King in name only"

Vergil ignored her game. His tone remained unchanged, firm as a newly-forged blade. "Give me real authority." He declared. "I want to create a special division of demons to... Seek out and destroy all those who are a risk to those I care about."

"Of course, Lucifer," Paimon whispered.