My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 718: Divine Terrorism

Yama’s body didn’t simply lie as a forgotten corpse on the cold floor of the VIP room. For a few moments, the silence that followed her death seemed absolute, almost reverent, as if the space itself awaited a reaction, an inevitable consequence of the brutal act that had just occurred. But Dante was no ordinary man, and what he did never followed the natural course of things. His eyes slowly descended to the body, not with remorse, nor with hesitation, but with a deep, almost scientific interest, like someone who finally has before him the result of a long and patient wait.

He crouched beside her calmly, as if he were before something precious, not a victim. His fingers touched the neck still marked by the brutal pressure, gliding over the lifeless skin with a disturbing delicacy, violently contrasting with the way that life had been taken seconds before. For a moment, he simply observed, as if confirming something internally, as if verifying that everything had happened exactly as it should.

And then, without any ceremony, he began. There was no hesitation.

There was no doubt.

His hand pierced Yama’s chest with unnatural ease, as if flesh and bone were nothing more than a symbolic barrier. There was no blood gushing as in a common act of violence, but something much stranger, much more wrong. Matter seemed to yield to his presence, distorting, opening up, revealing not only the physical body, but something deeper, something that should not be touched by human hands.

The essence.

The soul.

A dim light began to emerge from within her, not bright, not pure, but dense, charged, as if each fragment of that existence carried centuries of power and identity. She writhed as she was pulled, as if resisting, as if there was still something there trying to remain whole, trying not to be consumed.

But Dante did not allow it.

His fingers closed.

And then he pulled.

The sound that followed wasn’t physical, but existential, as if something were being ripped from reality itself. Yama’s soul was extracted in a single continuous movement, distorting in the air like living smoke, pulsing with residual energy, trying to escape, trying to maintain some form of cohesion.

Futile.

Dante slowly opened his mouth.

And devoured.

It wasn’t symbolic.

It wasn’t metaphorical.

It was literal.

The entire essence was absorbed, swallowed, dissolved within him as if it had never existed separately. The energy spread through his body instantly, and for a brief moment, the surrounding environment seemed to react, as if something fundamental had been altered.

The air cooled.

The light flickered.

And Dante... stopped.

His eyes closed.

His body remained motionless for a few seconds, absorbing, processing, integrating what he had just consumed. His breathing grew deeper, heavier, as if each breath carried a new weight, a different density.

And then he smiled.

Slowly.

Genuinely.

"It seems... it finally worked."

His voice was lower than before, but there was something in it that hadn’t been there before. An echo. A resonance. As if more than one presence spoke through him, perfectly synchronized.

He stood up slowly.

And, in that instant, something changed.

It wasn’t just power.

It was authority.

His presence became denser, more oppressive, as if the very concept of death now recognized him. As if he were no longer just someone who kills... but someone who defines the end.

The authority of death.

Not borrowed.

Not granted.

Taken.

His gaze returned to the projection of the labyrinth, but this time there was something different there. It was no longer analysis. It was no longer planning.

It was... anticipation. And then he laughed.

First softly.

Then louder.

And then completely.

A laugh that carried no humor, but realization. Something ancient, something repressed, finally aligning with reality. His head tilted slightly back, his eyes gleaming with an almost insane intensity, while the energy around him began to distort.

"Finally..."

His voice echoed through the room.

"...things are falling into place."

And, in response...

They came.

Behind him, the space began to open, not like a violent rupture, but like a veil being lifted. Shadows began to emerge, first subtle, almost imperceptible, but quickly becoming denser, more numerous.

Specters.

Hundreds.

Then thousands.

Blurred, distorted forms with vaguely humanoid outlines, empty eyes glowing like extinguished embers, bodies made of a substance that seemed to exist between the physical and the spiritual. They had no voice, but their presence filled the environment with a constant murmur, as if countless laments echoed simultaneously.

They weren’t there of their own free will.

They were there... because they belonged to him.

Dante didn’t look back.

He didn’t need to.

He knew.

He felt it.

He controlled it.

With a simple movement of his hand, the glass of the VIP room shattered, breaking into thousands of fragments that reflected the light before disappearing into the void below. The wind immediately swept through the space, carrying with it the chaos of the ruined labyrinth.

Dante took a step forward.

And simply fell.

But not like someone plummeting.

His body remained stable, floating, descending with an absurd tranquility, as if gravity were merely a suggestion he chose to ignore. Behind him, the specters followed, spreading through the air like a tide of living shadows.

He slowly opened his arms.

And smiled.

"It’s time for the Requiem."

And then... it began. The first target wasn’t Vergil.

Nor Alice.

Nor Shiva.

They were important.

But they weren’t the beginning.

Dante gazed at the horizon of the domain, where countless lesser presences existed, observing, participating, believing themselves safe within that system.

Minor gods.

Entities.

Creatures that existed under rules.

Under hierarchies.

Under limits.

He disappeared.

Not with visible speed.

But in absence.

And reappeared before the first of them.

There was no warning.

There was no announcement.

His hand pierced the entity’s chest with the same ease with which it had pierced Yama’s. The being didn’t even have time to comprehend what was happening before its essence was violently ripped out.

"Kill..."

Dante pulled.

The soul emerged writhing.

"...and absorb." He devoured.

Without pause.

Without ceremony.

Without remorse.

And then he moved again.

Another god.

Another body.

Another soul ripped away.

Another scream silenced before birth.

The specters followed.

Attacking.

Consuming.

Devastating.

Wherever they passed, only emptiness remained.

No bodies.

No traces.

Only absence.

And the impact...

It was immediate.

The system reacted.

The higher beings felt it.

The gods perceived it.

Something was wrong.

Something that didn’t follow the rules.

Something that shouldn’t exist.

Chaos began to spread rapidly, not only physically, but structurally. This was not a battle. It was not a rebellion.

It was a rupture.

And at the center of it all...

Dante continued smiling.

Each absorbed soul made him heavier.

Denser.

More... inevitable.

And he didn’t stop.

Because this wasn’t an attack.

It was a process.

An ascension.

The chaos spreading across the domain could no longer be ignored, not even by the entities occupying the highest layers of the divine hierarchy. The silent massacre perpetrated by Dante wasn’t just destruction, it was a structural violation, an error in the order of things that expanded with each passing moment, like a crack widening in the foundation of a world that believed itself to be eternal. Inside the VIP room, however, the perception of this collapse wasn’t accompanied by panic, but by something much heavier, much more conscious.

Sapphire was the first to stand.

Her eyes were fixed on the projection of the battlefield, following Dante’s every movement, every sudden disappearance, every new presence that faded without a trace. Her face, normally serene, now carried a visible, yet contained, tension, like someone who perfectly understood the gravity of the situation, yet still refused to react impulsively. Beside her, Sephirothy remained seated for a few more seconds, her gaze distant, as if she were seeing beyond what was visible.

Then, almost simultaneously, they both sighed.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

It was understanding.

Sapphire crossed her arms for a moment before turning her face slightly toward the other, her voice low but firm, carrying a weight that didn’t need to be raised to be felt.

"Shall we deal with this?"

The question wasn’t frivolous. It wasn’t a simple suggestion. It was the opening of an action that could completely change the course of that conflict. And yet, Sepphirothy didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes remained fixed on Dante, following his movement in the air, the way he not only moved but imposed himself on the space, as if dominion itself were yielding to his presence.

She observed.

She analyzed.

And then she shook her head slowly.

"No."

The answer was simple.

But loaded.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and for the first time there was something there besides analysis. There was caution.

"He has a fragment of Lucifer inside him..."

The way she said it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t a hypothesis. It was a statement. And the weight of that information fell on the room like an invisible blade, immediately altering the perception of the situation.

"We’d better get that back."

It wasn’t about stopping Dante.

It wasn’t about protecting the domain.

It was about something much more specific.

Much more dangerous.

Sapphire frowned slightly, her gaze immediately returning to Dante, now not just as an enemy, but as a bearer of something that shouldn’t be there. A fragment. An essence. Something linked to an entity that shouldn’t even be mentioned lightly.

But before she could answer...

Sepphirothy froze.

Her body stiffened for a second, as if something had pierced her perception without warning. Her eyes widened, not from ordinary surprise, but from something much deeper, something that couldn’t be ignored, couldn’t be contained. And then came the pain.

It was sudden.

Brutal.

Sepphirothy clutched her chest tightly, her fingers pressing against her own body as if trying to stop something from escaping or entering. Her body immediately buckled, her knees hitting the floor with a dry thud that echoed through the silent room.

"S-Sepphirothy?"

Sapphire stepped forward, her posture instantly shifting, the tension transforming into genuine alertness. This was not ordinary. It wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t hesitation.

It was... interference.

Sepphirothy’s breathing became ragged for a moment, her eyes trembling slightly as something passed through her mind, not as a thought, but as an invasion. An image. An echo. An awakening.

And then she saw.

Not the battlefield.

Not Dante.

Not the domain.

But something far more distant.

Far older.

A body. Immobile.

Sealed.

Forgotten.

And then...

Her eyes opened.

A presence awakened.

Lilith.

The name wasn’t spoken aloud, but it reverberated within her like a bell breaking the silence of ages. It wasn’t just an entity awakening. It was a breaking point. An existence that shouldn’t simply... return.

Sepphirothy gasped slightly, her hand still pressing against her chest as her body trembled for a moment before stabilizing. The pain hadn’t completely disappeared, but it was controlled, forced to the back of her consciousness as something she would choose to ignore... for now.

Sapphire took another step closer, her gaze fixed on her, analyzing every detail, every reaction, trying to understand what had happened in such a short interval.

"What happened?"

The question came out directly.

Without beating around the bush.

Without gentleness.

Sepphirothy remained silent for a second.

Two.

Then she slowly raised her head.

Her eyes were different.

No longer just cautious.

But determined.

"I have... something to settle."

Her voice came out lower than usual, but there was no weakness in it. There was urgency. Not the kind of urgency that is displayed, but the kind that is hidden, that is carried internally as an absolute necessity.

Sapphire narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Is this connected to him?"

She didn’t need to specify.

They both knew who they were talking about.

Sepphirothy, however, shook her head.

"No."

A pause.

Short.

But significant.

"This is... worse."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Because Sapphire knew Sepphirothy.

And she didn’t use those words lightly. For a moment, the two simply looked at each other.

And then understanding was established.

Sapphire let out a soft sigh, running a hand through her hair before turning her gaze back to the battlefield, where the specters continued to spread, attacking, consuming, expanding the reach of Dante’s chaos.

The Valkyries were already in motion.

Descending.

Intercepting.

Fighting.

Blades of light against formless shadows, each impact dissipating specters only for new ones to emerge immediately afterward, like an endless tide.

The problem wasn’t strength.

It was quantity.

It was nature.

It was... origin.

Sapphire slowly uncrossed her arms.

"I’ll handle this."

Her voice became firm again.

Stable.

Controlled.

Sepphirothy watched her for a moment, as if confirming something, as if assessing whether that decision was sufficient.

And then nodded.

"Don’t let him grow any more."

The instruction was simple.

But it carried a clear implication.

If Dante continued absorbing...

He would become something that not even they could easily control.

Sapphire didn’t answer. But her gaze made it clear that she understood.

With that, Sepphirothy began to stand, her movements now firm, despite what had just happened. The pain was still there, hidden beneath her posture, but it was no longer relevant.

Not at that moment.

Not with what had been awakened.

She took a few steps toward the exit, but before crossing the edge of the room, she stopped for a brief moment.

Without turning around.

Without hesitating.

"If I take too long..."

She began.

But she didn’t finish.

Because she didn’t need to.

Sapphire closed her eyes for a second.

And answered.

"I know."

Sepphirothy nodded slightly.

And then disappeared.

Not like an abrupt teleport.

But like someone who simply ceased to be there.

And in that instant...

Sapphire was alone.

Or almost.

Her gaze returned to the chaos unfolding outside, where Dante continued his ascent, where the specters advanced like an endless tide, where the Valkyries struggled to contain something that may have already crossed the point of containment.

She took a deep breath.

And then she stepped forward.

Her aura began to expand slowly, filling the surrounding space with a completely different presence, completely opposite to the one that dominated the field outside.

Cold.

Precise.

Relentless.

"So let’s see..." Her eyes fixed on Dante, now no longer just observing. But assessing. "...how far you can go."