My Wives are Beautiful Demons
Chapter 363 - 363: Taunt The Dragon.

"Wait a minute," said Vergil, staring at Sapphire with raised eyebrows. 'Are you really going to leave me here with... this? As if it were just another ordinary Tuesday?'

Next to him, Ada was already walking away with her hands in her pockets, the calm expression of someone who was just going out to stretch her legs.

"I'm going to get something to eat," she said, in the calm tone of someone commenting on the weather forecast. 'I'm starving.'

She turned her face over her shoulder, flashing a lazy smile at Vergil.

"Want me to bring you something?"

Vergil pointed dramatically at the creature in front of him—the Orb of the Platinum Dragon Empress, shrouded in magical crackles and an aura so oppressive that it made the reality around it vibrate.

"Yes. Bring back my dignity. If you still have it in stock."

Ada let out a light laugh, continuing to walk.

"With or without pepper?"

"Fuck you," he muttered, rubbing his forehead with one hand, as if that could ease the magical pressure in front of him.

His eyes turned to Sapphire, who remained where she was, arms crossed, expression impassive.

"What about you?" he asked, gesturing to the arcane chaos before them. 'Are you going to run away too, or do you want to leave me alone for sport?'

Sapphire gave a slight sigh, as if carrying the weight of dozens of unrecorded obligations.

"I have to check if Viola finished what I asked her to do," she replied. 'Apparently, Astaroth killed one of the clan leaders.'

Vergil blinked slowly, as if his brain was processing the sentence with a delay.

"Great. Another absolutely normal day."

Sapphire didn't even change her tone as she continued:

"Probably someone from the old demon faction. Those fanatics of the 'end times,' apocalypse, universal destruction... the whole package." She stared at him for a second. 'Nothing we haven't seen before.'

Vergil glanced briefly at the Orb, which now emitted a deep, slow beat—like a heart waking up.

"Yeah. Total normality," he muttered. 'As comforting as a grenade hug.'

Sapphire looked at Vergil one last time—there was no sarcasm in her gaze, no obvious affection. Just that old silent understanding that existed between two warriors who had seen worlds fall.

"If anything changes with the Orb, let me know immediately," she said, already turning away. 'And don't try to absorb anything. Even you aren't that stupid.'

Vergil snorted, but didn't reply. She had already disappeared into the shadows of the street before he could think of a fitting response.

The silence returned, thick.

Only he remained... and the Orb.

Vergil stared at that thing as if observing a living bomb—the object pulsed like an ancient heart, emitting a deep, rhythmic, organic sound, as if breathing on its own. Draconic lines in gold and scarlet ran across its surface like illuminated veins, dancing in patterns that seemed alive.

"So... you're the problem, huh?" he muttered, taking a few steps closer to the makeshift pedestal where the Orb rested. "Or the solution. It's never clear with you cosmic artifacts."

Slowly, as if testing the temperature of a sea about to swallow everything, Vergil crouched down. The floor vibrated slightly around the object—as if space itself was uncomfortable with its presence.

He reached out his hand.

There was a moment of hesitation, an internal whisper telling him not to touch it, not to disturb the balance. But, as always, Vergil ignored it.

His fingers wrapped firmly around the Orb.

Nothing exploded.

But everything changed.

A subtle wave of heat ran through his arm, like liquid fire. The world seemed to sink into a second of absolute silence—no wind, no sound, no time.

He felt something.

Not a presence, but a... consciousness. Ancient. Proud. Asleep—but restless. It was like holding the very nerve of a titan about to awaken. Something was watching him from within. Not with eyes, but with memory.

Vergil took a deep breath, trying to maintain control.

"You're there, right?" he whispered, his eyes fixed on the living surface of the Orb. "Empress Platina... whatever you are, don't drag me into a nightmare now. I've had enough."

And then he sat down next to the Orb, resting his elbows on his knees, the object still in his hands. The sky was slowly darkening above—or perhaps it was just the effect of the energy gathering around them.

He remained silent until he began to speak.

"I think you must be tired of being trapped in there, right?" Vergil said, slowly turning the Orb in his hands. The surface seemed alive—hot, almost pulsating. 'I mean... with so much power, so much pride, so much history, and yet, stuck in a damn magical crystal cocoon.'

Silence answered, as always.

Vergil leaned his back against a broken pillar and let out a long sigh, letting the weight of the moment rest on his shoulders.

"I don't know if you hear, or if you just feel. Maybe you're dreaming. Or pretending you're not awake to avoid dealing with all this." He gave a dry, humorless laugh. "If it's the latter... I confess I respect that."

His fingers drummed lightly on the surface of the Orb.

"There's something about you that bothers me. Not just because of your power. But because of your... presence. It's as if the air around you has consciousness. As if reality were stretching its fingers, trying to decide whether to run away or kneel down." He paused. "And here I am, sitting like an idiot, holding this as if it were a cherished relic."

Vergil ran a hand through his hair, his expression tense.

"I wonder what it's like inside. If you dream. If you remember. If you miss your true form." His eyes narrowed, and he spoke more softly, almost in a whisper. "If you're afraid to wake up."

Nothing.

Just the steady pulse, the ancient rhythm beating at the bottom of reality.

Vergil rubbed his face with both hands. The fatigue, physical and existential, was almost a character in its own right now. But he couldn't stop.

"There's something else, Empress," he said, staring at the Orb. "Maybe you feel it... maybe you don't. But your rival has awakened. The Scarlet. Or at least, part of her."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on the dance of golden and red lights.

"She has chosen someone. She has made a pact with the Demon Queen's daughter, Cabernet. The girl carries her Orb now, with a bond that does not seem improvised." Vergil frowned, his voice growing darker. "She's right in front of you, you know?"

The breeze cut through the air, as if the world had breathed sideways.

"Two Orbs. Two Empresses." Vergil slowly ran his hand over his face, his eyes half-closed. "That's the game, isn't it? An ancient pact, a silent dispute... and a sealed fate."

He slowly turned the Orb between his hands, feeling the vivid vibration of the magic contained within.

"One will awaken before the other. And when that happens..." he spoke with restrained bitterness, "the second dies. Not by choice. By necessity. For balance. Because the world cannot handle two forces like you at the same time."

Vergil leaned closer, his eyes fixed on the lines that writhed like snakes of light beneath the surface of the Orb.

"And Scarlet has already taken the first step, hasn't she? She made a pact. She found a host. The daughter of the Demon Queen." He let the sentence hang in the air like poison. "While you... you just listen."

He knew she was there.

Perhaps not awake, but present. Attentive.

Watching.

The silence around them was not empty—it was too heavy, too dense to be mere absence. It was the kind of silence that listens.

Vergil smiled coldly.

"You're there. I know it. You feel everything. You hear every word. Every provocation. And yet you remain silent." He tilted his head, provocatively. 'Do you really think that's prudence? It looks like fear.'

Nothing. Yet.

But the air around them seemed heavier.

As if the atmosphere were bending.

"You once had an empire, didn't you? You were once feared. Adored. Revered. And now look at you — a heart beating inside a glass prison, waiting for the world to decide if you're still worth remembering."

He gave a slight, cruel laugh.

"Are you going to let her—the Scarlet—surpass you? Let her take the throne again, while you continue to pretend that sleep is safety?"

Vergil's hand gripped the Orb more tightly. His eyes burned with defiance.

"Answer me, Empress. Show me you still have teeth. Or will you accept being forgotten?"

And then he fell silent.

Waiting.

Breath held.

The provocation delivered.

The board set.