My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 667: Omen

The dressing room was spacious, illuminated by golden lights that reflected off tall mirrors placed side by side. Fabrics, ceremonial weapons, magical accessories, and pieces of light armor were scattered across chairs, tables, and screens, creating an organized chaos that only made sense to those who lived in that kind of environment.

Raphaeline was at the center of it all, as if she were the invisible conductor of that noisy orchestra.

"Stella, by all the planes of existence…" she sighed loudly, stopping behind the other girl. "Straighten your posture."

"I am straight," Stella replied, crossing her arms, clearly defensive.

"No, you're apologizing to the world with your back," Raphaeline retorted mercilessly. She placed her hands on Stella's shoulders, turning her slightly toward the mirror. "You are tall, strong, beautiful, and intimidating. Start acting like it."

Stella looked at her own reflection, insecure. "It's not that simple…"

Raphaeline rolled her eyes and, without ceremony, pulled Stella closer, adjusting the bust of her dress with enough force to make her let out a small "Hey!"

"Confidence starts here," Raphaeline said, tightening the fabric with practical, not malicious, precision. "If even your breasts are trying to escape inside, something's wrong."

Stella blushed instantly. "R-Raphaeline!"

"It works," Raphaeline finished, letting go of her and taking two steps back to assess the result. "There. Now you look like someone who would step on a minor god without asking permission."

Stella didn't know whether to laugh or bury her face in her hands.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dressing room, Ada and Roxanne stood before a huge rack full of light-colored dresses, both with their arms crossed and the same assessing expression.

"I got here first," Ada said, narrowing her eyes.

"You got here first on this side," Roxanne retorted. "I got there first in the mental selection."

"That's not a criterion."

"Yes, it is."

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, until Roxanne pulled out a pearly white dress.

"This one's mine."

Ada pulled out the same dress from the other side. "No, this one's mine."

The fabric stretched dangerously.

"Girls," Vivianne called from the corner of the room, without even raising her voice, her exhaustion evident. "If you tear this, I won't fix it."

The two froze.

Roxanne spoke first, pouting. "You always look better in white."

Ada smiled slightly. "Because I know how to wear it."

"Snobbish."

"Jealous."

They eventually moved away, each picking a different shade of white—one more silvery, another more milky—and pretending it had been a mature decision.

Near the central mirrors, Katharia and Sapphire drew attention for the opposite of the usual.

They were… quiet.

Very quiet.

Katharia slowly adjusted her gloves, looking at her own reflection as if analyzing a complex equation. Sapphire, sitting beside her, distractedly fiddled with a necklace, her eyes lost in thought.

Raphaeline noticed this almost immediately.

She narrowed her eyes, observing the two for a few seconds before smiling mischievously.

"Okay," she said, crossing her arms. "What happened?"

No answer.

"No," Raphaeline continued, walking towards them. "This isn't normal. You two together and silent? Something is wrong with the fabric of reality."

Katharia cleared her throat. Sapphire looked away.

Raphaeline tilted her head. "Don't tell me…" A teasing smile appeared. "Was the oyakodon good?"

The effect was immediate.

"—WHAT?!", Katharia turned so quickly she almost dropped the portable mirror.

"Raphaeline!", Sapphire exclaimed, her face turning red to the tips of her ears.

"It was just a question," said Raphaeline, laughing. "You both look like you processed too much information in too little time."

Katharia crossed her arms, trying to regain her composure. "It wasn't anything like that."

Sapphire nodded too quickly. "Exactly. Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Raphaeline raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

For a few seconds, the atmosphere was awkward… until Roxanne burst into loud laughter from the other side.

"You two are terrible liars," she commented.

Ada nodded. "Painfully."

Sapphire sighed, finally relaxing her shoulders. "Can we… please… get back to getting ready?"

"See?" said Raphaeline, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. "It's back to normal."

In the corner of the dressing room, Vivianne watched everything, seated in a chair, a cup of tea in her hands. Beside her, Novah leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while Viola silently arranged some accessories on a tray.

"The mistresses seem like children," Novah murmured wearily.

Vivianne blew on her tea. "Armed, powerful, and emotionally unstable children."

Viola nodded. "And we're the babysitters."

From the center of the room, Raphaeline listened.

"I heard that," she warned.

"It was on purpose," Vivianne replied, without any guilt.

Stella finally took a deep breath, straightened her posture again—this time on her own—and stared at herself in the mirror more firmly.

"…Okay," she said. "Maybe you're right."

Raphaeline smiled proudly. "I always am."

Ada walked past them, adjusting the sleeve of her dress. "That explains a lot."

Roxanne laughed.

Katharia finished putting on her gloves, now with her most composed expression ever. Sapphire stood up, breathing deeply, as if she had left some invisible weight behind.

The dressing room was once again filled with voices, laughter, teasing, and snide remarks—the familiar chaos that somehow always preceded big events.

Vivianne observed everything, tired, but with a small smile at the corner of her lips.

"This is going to be trouble," she murmured.

Novah tilted her head. "It always works."

"But they look good together," Viola added, in a neutral tone.

Vivianne was the first to break the calmer atmosphere that had settled in.

She carefully placed her cup on the saucer and looked up, slowly scanning each of the girls… until she stopped at Sapphire.

"…So," she began, in that gentle tone that usually preceded dangerous questions. "And Vergil?"

The dressing room seemed to fall silent for a split second.

Raphaeline turned her face away immediately. Ada raised an eyebrow. Roxanne smiled slightly, interested. Even Stella looked away from the mirror.

Katharia glanced sideways at Sapphire, already anticipating disaster.

"He's going to fight," Vivianne continued. "In the tournament. You were the one who prepared everything. Equipment, adjustments, reinforcements…" She tilted her head slightly. "Is everything alright with him?"

Sapphire finished adjusting the collar with a dry click and shrugged, as if the question were irrelevant.

"Of course it is."

Raphaeline crossed her arms. "That wasn't an answer."

"Yes, it was." Sapphire finally turned, her gaze sharp, confident—almost arrogant. "I gave him everything he needed. Enhancements, catalysts, fine-tuning that no one here would understand."

Ada frowned. "That sounded… personal."

"It's not personal," Sapphire replied immediately. "It's competence."

Roxanne chuckled softly. "Uh-huh. Competence with a built-in threat."

Sapphire smiled sideways.

"If he doesn't win with what I gave him," she said, in a dangerously casual tone, "he'd better not even show up alive."

Silence fell like a heavy curtain.

"…What did you say?" Stella asked, blinking.

"Because if he shows up," Sapphire finished, completely calm, "I'll kill him myself."

Katharia brought her hand to her face. "Sapphire."

"What?" She raised her hands. "I invested time, resources, and patience. If he wastes that, it's a waste of material."

Raphaeline stared at her for a few seconds… and then burst into laughter.

"My God, I love you," she said, wiping away an imaginary tear. "That was the most Sapphire thing you could have said."

Vivianne sighed, massaging her temple. "You realize this isn't… normal, right?"

Novah, still leaning against the wall, murmured: "She talks like she's commenting on the weather."

"It's going to rain," Viola mimicked in a neutral tone. "Or Vergil dies."

Sapphire pointed at Viola. "Exactly."

Ada shook her head, laughing. "Does he know that?"

"Probably," Sapphire replied. "And that only increases his chances of winning."

Roxanne leaned slightly forward. "Is that terror motivation?"

"It's efficiency."

Katharia finally sighed deeply. "You're all insane."

"Thank you," Sapphire said, satisfied.

Raphaeline walked over to Sapphire and patted her on the shoulder. "Relax. If there's one thing that man knows how to do…" She smiled sharply. "…it's survive when everyone expects him to die."

Sapphire held her gaze for a moment… then nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Then everything's alright."

Vivianne picked up her teacup again. "I'll pretend that reassured me."

In the dressing room, laughter gradually returned, mixed with snide comments and light teasing. Outside, the tournament was approaching.

[…Elsewhere]

The sky of that world was heavy, laden with clouds in shades of gray and dark blue, crisscrossed by lightning that never quite touched the ground. Colossal mountains rose in the background, like stone teeth biting the horizon. The air vibrated with raw energy—not refined divine energy, but primal, violent force.

In the center of a rocky plateau, Thor was bored.

Very bored.

He spun something heavy in one hand, swinging it carelessly from side to side. The object clearly wasn't Mjölnir. The handle was different, the balance wrong, the energy… poor.

Thor grimaced.

"Tsk." He spun the object once more and buried it in the ground with enough force to crack the rock. "This thing weighs nothing." 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

He crossed his arms, the thunder rumbling in the background as a response to his bad mood.

"Zeus, you son of a bitch…" he muttered. "How did I lose that bet? Especially over wine and some random nymph. You son of a bitch, give me back my friend."

A lightning bolt struck in the distance, as if the world itself were laughing at the situation.

Thor kicked a stone, irritated. "Shitty bet."

The air shifted.

Suddenly, the sky darkened even further, and a flapping of wings echoed everywhere. One, then two, then dozens of ravens appeared out of nowhere, tearing through the space around the thunder god. They circled, flying low, high, too fast.

Thor narrowed his eyes.

"If it's another encrypted message, I'll—"

The ravens began to collide with each other, dissolving into black shadows that condensed in the center of the plateau. Their wings became smoke, their beaks turned into fragments of dark light.

And then, the form of a man emerged.

Tall, thin, shrouded in dark robes adorned with ancient symbols. A single eye gleamed beneath the hood, laden with knowledge too great for any era.

Odin.

Thor let out a short laugh.

"Ah." He opened his arms. "Of course it's you."

Odin calmly placed his staff on the ground with absolute composure, as if that entire world were merely a familiar hall.

"What do you want, old man?" Thor asked. "Did you come to laugh at me because Zeus is playing at hammering thunderbolts?"

Odin ignored the taunt.

"Observe," he said simply.

With a wave of his hand, the space before them distorted. Runes swirled in the air, forming a crystalline projection.

The image stabilized.

Vergil.

The destroyed corridor. The copy of Thor advancing. The false Mjölnir descending with overwhelming force.

And then—

Vergil stopping the blow.

With a bare hand.

The impact frozen in mid-air, lightning colliding with demonic miasma, space shattering around them like glass.

Thor tilted his head, intrigued.

"…Heh."

The projection advanced a few more moments, showing the shared laughter, the avatar's retreat.

Thor let out a slow, genuine smile.

"This is new," he admitted. "Very new."

Odin closed his hand, dissipating the image. His gaze remained serious.

"It wasn't brute force," he said. "Nor common divine technique. It was… something more."

Thor crossed his arms again, the smile still present. "You created that copy to test it, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And it failed."

"Failed."

Silence stretched for a few seconds, broken only by distant thunder.

"The tournament," Odin continued, "is not just a spectacle. It's a filter." He turned slightly to Thor. "There are signs… that a possible King may be born."

Thor's smile widened, then he burst into laughter.

A loud, echoing laugh that made the sky tremble.

"A King?" He wiped away an imaginary tear. "You're seeing too far ahead, old man."

Odin didn't smile.

Thor pointed to the horizon. "Kings don't just appear like that. Not out of nowhere. Not in tournaments."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "That's impossible."

Odin simply observed and said, "I wish I could believe that."