My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 721: The real battle is about to begin.

The world was no longer the same, and that wasn’t a metaphor. What had once been a tournament, a controlled arena where absurd forces collided under implicit rules, had now become something completely different. The floating coliseum no longer merely orbited the sky—it existed on the edge of a reality that was being slowly consumed, drained, rewritten by a force that didn’t distinguish allies from enemies. And, at the center of it all, two presences continued to clash with an intensity that ignored any other threat.

Vergil was being crushed.

There was no more honest way to describe it. Each exchange of blows wasn’t a contest, not a measurement of strength—it was a brutal exercise in survival. Angelo was no longer the same opponent he had faced minutes before. The constant evolution of that entity had surpassed a critical threshold, and now each movement carried a weight that couldn’t be compensated for with technique alone.

The blow came too quickly for ordinary eyes to follow.

Vergil moved at the last instant, shifting his body just enough to avoid direct impact, but it still wasn’t enough. Angelo’s fist grazed his side, and the mere displacement of air was enough to launch his body dozens of meters, crashing through suspended fragments of stone and colliding with what remained of a destroyed structure.

The impact reverberated through the isolated space.

Stone shattered.

Air exploded.

And, for a brief second... everything was silent.

Then he moved.

Vergil pushed himself out of the rubble, his feet sliding across the uneven ground as he regained his balance with almost irritating precision. His body was injured—that much was evident now. Small fissures spread across his skin, blood trickled in thin lines down his arm, and his breathing was no longer as steady as before.

But his eyes...

His eyes remained cold.

Calculating.

Learning.

Another attack.

Without warning.

Angelo didn’t back down. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t pause. His body no longer operated under conventional biological limitations. Each movement was a perfect execution of maximum force, refined by continuous adaptation. He didn’t just attack—he evolved with each interaction.

Vergil raised Nidhogg.

The scythe found its mark.

The impact was devastating.

The blade didn’t yield—but the space around it did. A shockwave ripped through the air, expanding in a perfect circle that swept everything around it, pulverizing what remained of the terrain and hurling debris into the void that now surrounded the coliseum.

And yet...

Vergil was pushed back.

His feet dragged across the ground, creating deep furrows in the surface as he absorbed the force of the impact. His muscles contracted, not to resist... but to redirect. His body tilted slightly, twisting at the last second to dissipate some of the energy.

Even so...

He spat blood.

But he didn’t look away.

"Stronger..." he murmured, almost to himself.

There was no frustration in his voice.

Just... acceptance.

And analysis.

Because he had already understood.

It wasn’t just a difference in power.

It was a difference in state.

Angelo wasn’t limited by a ceiling.

He was constantly rising.

And that made any direct confrontation... obsolete.

Vergil advanced.

Not because he believed he would win at that instant.

But because he needed to continue.

Every exchange, every impact, every failure—everything was being stored, dissected, reconstructed within his mind. He wasn’t just fighting.

He was rewriting himself.

The next blow came.

And this time...

He managed to keep up.

Not completely.

But enough.

His body moved sooner, his posture adjusted better, his reading was more precise. Angelo’s attack was still absurdly superior in strength, but Vergil was no longer reacting merely instinctively.

He anticipated.

And that... was beginning to make a difference.

Meanwhile, above them, something completely different was happening.

Alice didn’t move as before.

She didn’t advance.

She didn’t retreat.

She remained motionless.

But her presence... expanded.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing controlled as her mana spread in silent waves, filling every inch of the floating coliseum. It wasn’t an explosion of power. It wasn’t something violent.

It was... absolute control.

Invisible lines began to form in space, complex patterns that intertwined like a living system, enveloping the entire structure of the coliseum. The air became denser, and space began to behave differently, as if it were being shaped by a higher will.

Then... it closed.

There was no explosion.

There was no sound.

But something changed.

Profoundly.

The coliseum was isolated.

Not just physically.

But existentially.

Portals that were still trying to form simply failed. Spatial disturbances were nullified before they even materialized. Any attempt to escape... ceased to exist as a possibility.

They were trapped.

All of them.

Alice opened her eyes.

And, for a brief moment, her gaze wasn’t fixed on the battlefield.

But upwards.

Her mind connected.

Not through spoken words.

But directly.

Seris.

"External interference is compromising the balance."

Her voice echoed directly into the other’s consciousness.

Cold.

Precise.

No room for discussion.

"Cancel the mechanism that drains divine energy."

It wasn’t a request.

It was an order.

"If this continues... it will escalate beyond control."

Their connection ended immediately.

Without waiting for a response.

Because, at that moment... she already had another priority.

Her eyes lowered.

Fixing again on Angelo.

And on Vergil.

The fight continued.

More violent.

Faster.

More dangerous.

Vergil advanced again, his stance now different, more compact, more efficient. His movements were no longer just precise—they were beginning to adapt to Angelo’s pattern. Not enough to match.

But enough not to die.

The blow came.

He blocked.

The impact still pushed him back.

But less so.

His counterattack came immediately, Nidhogg’s blade cutting through space in a precise arc that struck Angelo directly.

For a moment...

It seemed to work. But then...

Angelo’s body responded.

It changed.

It adjusted.

And, in the next movement...

He had already learned.

The counterattack came faster.

Heavier.

More... perfect.

Vergil couldn’t block completely this time.

The impact hit his torso, and this time the air was completely ripped from his lungs as his body was thrown again, crossing the isolated field and violently colliding against the invisible boundary created by Alice.

The barrier didn’t break.

But he felt it.

And yet...

He stood up.

Once again.

His eyes were still focused.

Still calculating.

Still learning.

Even being crushed.

Even being behind.

Even fighting against something that was, at that moment, far beyond him.

Vergil didn’t retreat.

Because, for him...

The fight would only end when he decided so.

And, at that moment...

He hadn’t decided yet.

The isolated coliseum no longer obeyed a single will, and for the first time since the beginning of that absolute collapse, something directly interfered with the chaotic expansion that had been consuming everything. It wasn’t a physical impact, nor a brute attack, but a precise alteration in the structure of the very phenomenon that Dante had created, as if someone had found the exact point where that entire construction rested... and decided to pull the correct thread. At the top of one of the remaining towers, where the geometry of the coliseum still resisted destruction, a new presence emerged, not as an invasion, but as something that could always have been there, observing, waiting for the exact moment to act.

Seris appeared without fanfare, but the effect of its presence was immediate, almost violent in its subtlety. The air around her didn’t churn, didn’t vibrate with excess energy, but became... stable, as if everything that was distorted was being forced to remember how it should function. Her feet touched the cracked stone of the tower lightly, but the space around her reacted as if it had been anchored to reality again. Her eyes, calm and deeply focused, turned to the distorted sky above the coliseum, where Dante’s influence still manifested as an invisible pressure consuming what remained of divine energy.

She didn’t hesitate.

Her hand rose slowly, and, in the next instant, the sky responded.

A magic circle began to form above her, not small, not contained—colossal. Lines of pure energy intertwined in absurdly complex patterns, layers upon layers of runes that represented not only magic, but laws. It was an entire system being built in the air, a control architecture that expanded rapidly, covering not only the top of the tower, but all the space above the coliseum. The light emanating from it wasn’t aggressive, but it was impossible to ignore. It was... dominant.

And then, she closed her hand.

The effect was immediate.

The structure Dante had created... failed.

It didn’t explode, it didn’t collapse chaotically—it simply ceased to function as before. The energy flow was interrupted, the draining stopped abruptly, and what seemed inevitable... was denied.

And Dante felt it.

The very instant control slipped from his grasp, his presence contracted, and then... moved.

He didn’t run.

He appeared.

Space violently distorted around the point where Seris stood, and Dante appeared there with a speed that defied physical movement, his body already in motion, his hand advancing directly toward her neck with clear, direct, murderous intent. There was no test, no provocation—it was an execution.

But he encountered no resistance.

His hand pierced through.

Not flesh.

Not energy.

Just... a remnant.

The image of Seris dissipated the instant of impact, dissolving into fragments of light that scattered in the air as if they had never been solid. There was no blood, no reaction, only absence.

For a second...

Dante stood motionless. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

His eyes narrowed slowly, while his perception expanded, trying to locate the real presence, trying to find the origin, the anchoring point of that interference. But all he found... was emptiness.

And then...

A laugh.

Soft.

Light. But completely out of place.

Echoing.

Not from a specific point.

But from everywhere.

Dante clenched his teeth.

His expression changed.

It was no longer just irritation.

It was anger.

Cold.

Cutting.

"Playing games with me..." he murmured, his low voice carrying a tension that made the very air around him vibrate irregularly.

He raised his hand again, trying to reactivate his authority, trying to pull back the dominance he had established, trying to rebuild the flow that had been interrupted. His energy responded, advancing, seeking to regain control...

But it failed.

Simply... it failed.

As if the space no longer accepted it.

As if the rule had been rewritten.

The silence that followed was short.

And then... he cursed.

Low.

But full of intention.

"Damn it..."

His hand moved. And this time, he didn’t try to recover.

He decided to destroy.

The sword appeared in his hand as an extension of his own will, materializing with a weight that wasn’t merely physical. Rebellion. The blade that cut not only matter, but concepts, limits, structures. He gripped it firmly, his fingers adjusting to the hilt as if that were the only language that still made sense at that moment.

Without hesitation, he attacked.

Not horizontally.

Not at a specific target.

But at the sky itself.

The blade rose in a perfect arc, and when it descended... the world responded.

The cut wasn’t visible in the usual way, but the effect was impossible to ignore. The space above the coliseum was torn open, an absurd fissure opening as if reality itself had been split in two. The colossal, complex, perfect magic circle of Seris... was struck directly.

And began to unravel.

The runes shattered, the lines fragmented, the pattern lost its integrity and collapsed in a cascade, like a structure that had lost its foundation. The light dissipated, the magical construction disintegrated, and for a moment... it seemed that Dante had regained control.

He took a deep breath.

And smiled.

But the smile didn’t last.

Because, even with the circle destroyed...

The presence didn’t disappear.

And then...

The voice came.

Loud.

Clear.

And completely serene.

"You are quite temperamental..."

It didn’t echo as before.

Now... it came from above.

Far above.

"How about you calm down?"

Dante looked up.

And it was at that instant that the sky answered.

Not with rupture.

But with judgment.

A point of light formed above him, small at first, almost insignificant, but carrying an absurd density. The surrounding air compressed, space tensed, and for a fraction of a second... everything seemed to stop.

And then it fell.

The lightning didn’t descend like ordinary electricity.

It plummeted.

Like an axis.

Like a pillar.

A column of pure energy that traversed space in a straight line, without dispersion, without hesitation, connecting heaven and earth in a single absolute instant. The impact was immediate.

And devastating.

The sound didn’t come first.

The light came first.

A blinding flash that engulfed everything around it, completely obliterating vision for an instant, followed by a roar that felt not just like sound, but pressure, crushing the air in every direction. The tower where Dante stood... didn’t withstand it.

It ceased to exist.

The structure was obliterated at the point of impact, reduced to fragments that didn’t even have time to fall before being vaporized by the released energy. The ground beneath opened up, cracks spreading like a living web as the discharge pierced layer upon layer of stone, descending until it disappeared into the depths.

And, at the center of it all...

Dante was struck.

Directly.

Unblocked.

Undeflected.

No chance of avoidance.

For a brief instant...

There was nothing there but light.

And silence.

As if the world had decided to stop...

Just to see the result.