My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 669: Council and the return of a little girl, now older.

The Celestial Council chamber didn't resemble anything that could be called a "chair" by mortal standards.

It was a circular space suspended in a starry void, where the floor seemed made of living marble and the ceiling simply… didn't exist. Slow-moving constellations swirled above, reacting to the presence of the beings gathered there. Each step echoed like a concept, not a sound.

And there were many steps.

The representatives sat around a long, curved table, molded from a single block of something that was neither stone, nor metal, nor idea—but all three at once.

Norse, Olympian, Buddhist, Christian, Shinto.

And, mixed in with them, the lords of the underworlds.

Hela, with her rigid posture and empty gaze, half life, half death.

Yama, too serene for someone whose presence bent the space around him.

And Amon.

Amon sat with his hands clasped on the table, impeccable posture, neutral expression. Anyone observing him superficially would say he was calm.

But inside…

'Pathetic.' Amon scanned the table with his gaze, analyzing each deity, each entity.

It wasn't the first time he'd sat among gods. Nor the hundredth. Still, something about this meeting was… wrong.

Too much tension, haste, and expectation. The central issue hung in the air like an invisible blade.

The change of rules.

"I don't see the reason for all the fuss," said one of the gods, Zeus, reclining in a relaxed manner, his fingers drumming distractedly. "Just an adjustment. The tournament remains entertainment."

'Of course you'd say that,' thought Amon. 'You've never been good at noticing when you're being used. You're a Foolish God-King.'

On the other side of the table, Buddha kept his eyes half-closed, a serene smile on his face.

Wukong stood beside him, restless, twirling an invisible wand between his fingers, clearly holding back laughter at something only he found amusing.

Shiva and Kali remained motionless, their presence overwhelming, their silent agreement.

Amon took a deep breath. 'This is worrying… do you really think I didn't notice?' he thought.

He didn't need to look directly to know where Yama was. The presence of the judge from beyond was constant, heavy, calculated. Amon felt it like a chessboard being assembled piece by piece.

'You want to win,' Amon thought. 'A definitive rule for the gods… this prize is too great… what does she want with this? Power? Probably…'

Yama wasn't interested in glory. Nor in amusement. He wanted to set precedents. To gain influence. To create a scenario where his dominion became… inevitable.

And that required controlled chaos.

"The proposal to raise the age limit was sensible," Buddha commented softly. "The natural flow of things was being distorted."

Amon almost smiled. 'Of course you'd say that. You were the one who demanded it.'

"Sensible for whom?" Hela questioned, tilting her head slightly. "You opened loopholes. Gods are now entering using artificial bodies. That's not balance."

Wukong gave a short laugh. "Oh, come on. There's always been cheating. We're just… making it official. Or do you think we don't know you were planning to use apostules to enter the battle? That would have happened anyway, why cheat now?"

Amon closed his eyes for a moment. 'That's exactly why I agreed. It'll make the boy stronger while he wins…'

When Buddha approached him, accompanied by Wukong, Amon already knew something big was in motion. The proposal was simple: increase the difficulty precisely so that Yama would be frustrated, and of course, this meant that the Underworld could suffer some problems, but Wukong had said that currently, he didn't think there was a competitor limited to 200 years who could handle Vergil.

The discourse was about balance.

The truth… was restraint.

'Yama was accumulating pieces too quickly for even Buddha himself to want to get involved in this,' Amon reflected. 'I wonder what she wants.'

Yama had realized before everyone else that the tournament wasn't just a spectacle.

It was a point of convergence. Something ancient was reacting to the battles, the bets, the deaths avoided by a thread.

And Yama wanted to be the first to touch that core.

Amon couldn't allow that.

"The decision has already been voted on," said Shiva, finally breaking the silence. Her voice reverberated like a contained thunder. "The change remains."

Kali inclined her head slightly, agreeing. Her eyes gleamed for a moment, hungry but controlled. She also wanted to participate in that tournament. After all, she wanted to meet a certain person.

Yama smiled.

It was a minimal smile. Polite. Too perfect.

"Naturally," she said. "I accept the council's decision."

'Liar,' Amon thought with a small smile. 'You accepted because you've already found another route.'

Amon finally spoke.

"Even so," his voice was calm but firm, "we need to acknowledge the impact of this. Hastily changing competitors, allowing contracts and possessions… this will generate instability."

Zeus shrugged. "Instability breeds spectacle."

"And spectacle breeds attention," Amon added. "Too much attention."

A few glances turned to him.

"Are you afraid of something, Amon?" Yama asked, with feigned curiosity.

Amon held his gaze. "I fear waste."

Yama raised an eyebrow slightly. "Explain."

"If this tournament gets out of control," Amon continued, "there will be no winner. Only survivors. And that… doesn't favor anyone."

"Especially you," he added mentally.

Inside, Amon was organizing everything.

He already knew that Yama was manipulating the probabilities, trying to force specific confrontations, pressuring lesser entities, encouraging gods to enter "in disguise."

That's why he had accepted the unlikely alliance.

Buddha, with his moral authority.

Wukong, with his calculated chaos.

Shiva and Kali, with their absolute weight.

Together, they restrained Yama.

Not enough to defeat her.

But enough to delay her.

"The tournament will continue," declared Buddha. "But now… no one fully controls the outcome."

Wukong grinned broadly. "That's the best part."

Yama closed her eyes for a second, then nodded. "So be it."

Amon relaxed slightly. 'What a viper, holding back her murderous intent, but as a demon, I can feel that malice overflowing. Damned Goddess of the Underworld.'

But only for now.

He knew. Yama knew. Everyone there knew.

The rules had changed, yes.

But the game was only just beginning.

And somewhere, outside that room, a certain underworld competitor slept peacefully, oblivious—or pretending to be—to the fact that he was precisely…

…the variable that none of them could foresee…

[Back to Vergil]

The dark fabric of the battle suit slid across Vergil's shoulders with almost ritualistic precision.

It wasn't heavy armor, nor an ostentatious uniform. It was something made for him—clean lines, material that seemed to absorb the surrounding light, discreet inscriptions that would only react when the demonic miasma was fully released. Each adjustment was automatic, as if the clothing recognized the body that wore it.

Vergil was focused.

Or rather… trying to be.

Because something had been scratching at his perception since the moment he began to change. A light, almost polite pressure, touching the limits of his domain like someone knocking on the door unintentionally.

Then the air beside him… ripped.

It wasn't a violent rupture. It was elegant. An arcane circle formed in the space, ancient runes slowly swirling, reality reluctantly bending. The scent of incense, ancient scrolls, and raw magic filled the air.

Vergil sighed, without even turning around.

"You always make dramatic entrances," he commented.

From the portal, a woman stepped forward.

Tall, slender, enveloped in black robes adorned with arcane symbols in vibrant silver. Her long, dark hair floated lightly, as if gravity had difficulty imposing itself. Her golden eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence and something dangerously amused.

Seris D'Arkhan.

The Witch Queen.

"And you always notice before I even arrive," she replied, smiling sideways. "I'm slightly offended."

"Liar," Vergil retorted, now turning to face her. "You make a living from it."

Seris opened her mouth to reply—

"DAAAAAD!"

Something shot out of the portal like a projectile.

Vergil had exactly half a second to register a girl with black hair fluttering before feeling the impact against his chest. Arms closed around his neck with surprising force, and the extra weight made him take a step back.

"...Hi?" was all he managed to say before feeling her face bury itself against his.

"I MISSED YOU SO MUCH," her voice came out muffled, but full of genuine emotion.

Vergil blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then he placed a hand on the girl's back to keep her balanced and finally looked at her attentively.

"Alice...?" he said slowly.

The girl lifted her face.

She had grown. Not just a little. Where before there had been a frail child with a curious gaze, now there was a teenager of about sixteen, with more defined features, a firmer posture—still impulsive, still intense, but undeniably different.

The eyes were the same.

Dark, deep, full of life.

"You've grown," Vergil commented, genuinely surprised.

Alice smiled broadly, still hugging him. "I've grown!"

Vergil frowned slightly and looked directly at Seris.

"Explain."

Seris raised her hands in a gesture too innocent for someone like her.

"Before you freak out, it was all controlled," she said calmly. "Alice possesses an abnormally powerful magical body. She always has. Her natural growth was… delaying the adaptation of the vessel."

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

"You used temporal magic on her."

"A limited advancement," Seris corrected. "Just enough to align body and soul. Nothing was forced, nothing was broken. She consented."

Alice nodded quickly, releasing Vergil only to look at him directly.

"I wanted to!" she said, excitedly. "I didn't want to fall behind again!"

Vergil sighed, but there was something gentle about the gesture.

He reached out and placed his hand on Alice's head, lightly ruffling her dark hair with an almost unconscious affection.

"You're still impulsive," he commented.

Alice froze for a second.

Then her eyes lit up.

"You did it," she said, amazed. "You never did that before."

Vergil raised an eyebrow. "I didn't?"

"Not like this," she replied, tilting her head against his hand. "It seems… normal."

He was silent for a moment.

Then he smiled.

Not a wry smile. Not a sharp smile.

A genuine smile.

"I imagine I'm learning," he murmured.

Seris watched the scene with silent attention, her smile fading slightly, becoming more… real.

Alice took a deep breath, as if gathering courage for something important.

"Dad."

The word hung in the air with unexpected weight.

Vergil felt it.

Not like magic. Not like power.

But like something that struck directly a place he rarely allowed to be touched.

He looked at her.

"...What were you?"

"Father," she repeated, firm now. "I can call you that, right?"

Seris said nothing. She just observed.

Vergil took a few seconds to respond.

Then he placed his hand on Alice's head again, this time more firmly, more certainly.

"You can," he said simply.

Alice smiled so hard it seemed to hurt.

She hugged him again, but now with less force and more... belonging.

"I missed you," she said, more softly.

"I know," he replied.

After a few seconds, Vergil cleared his throat slightly.

"Now," he said, carefully pulling her aside to look her in the eyes, "why are you here?"

Alice smiled dangerously enthusiastically.

"Because I'm going to participate in the tournament!"

The silence that followed was absolute.

Vergil blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"...You're going to what?"

"Participate!" she repeated, raising her arms as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I signed up!" 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Vergil slowly turned his face to Seris.

"Tell me this is a joke."

Seris tilted her head. "It's not."

"Tell me you're kidding me," he insisted.

"Not that either," she replied. "I've already given up on winning, my two daughters who I was going to send kind of gave up too. Nobody wanted to go, but she's here, she's dying to fight."

"F-fight?" Vergil stammered, looking at the beautiful little girl, who seemed to have not a single drop of malice in this world. If he didn't know she was a witch and a demon, he would say she was clearly the reincarnation of an Angel!

"Yes, I want to fight. I'm tired of studying! I already know all of Aunt Seris's magic. I know everything! I just don't have experience! I need experience to fill the Akash records—" Seris put her hand over her mouth before she could finish, "Don't talk about that here, there are too many ears." Seris spoke before blocking her mouth with her hand.

Vergil frowned. "No," he affirmed.

"There's no way to unregister her anymore," Seris laughed, "Besides… Vergil, she's strong."