My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 672: Phase 1. Battle Royale

The demons' VIP room was a stark contrast to the chaos of the arena below.

The space was vast, supported by columns of living obsidian that pulsed slowly, as if breathing alongside the Abyss. Curtains of crimson energy separated the space from the rest of the coliseum, allowing one to see everything without being seen. Thrones, sofas, and seats molded according to the essence of each occupant were scattered almost organically.

When the doors opened, a momentary silence fell.

Sephirothy entered first.

Her presence was impossible to ignore—not out of ostentation, but out of density. The air seemed to curve slightly around her. Neberius followed closely behind, relaxed posture, hands in pockets, an attentive gaze like someone who had seen this type of meeting turn into war more times than he could count.

As soon as the door closed behind them, several heads turned at once.

"It took you long enough," commented Raphaeline, without even fully rising from the back of the sofa. "I thought you'd gotten lost in the Abyss," Roxanne added with a half-smile.

"Or decided not to show up," said Ada, crossing her arms.

Stella simply nodded in greeting, while Vivianne sighed, clearly tired even of complaining.

Katharina was direct:

"We were practically betting on whether you'd come."

Sepphirothy raised an eyebrow, walking to one of the central seats.

"I had things to take care of," she replied neutrally.

Neberius closed the door behind him and shrugged.

"We've been busy lately."

Sapphire, who was sitting seemingly relaxed, with a glass of dark liquid in her hand, nodded slowly.

"It's good to be busy," she said, looking directly at Sepphirothy. "Especially with… suspicious things."

The gaze between the two lingered for a few seconds longer than usual.

There was no explicit hostility there.

But there was history.

And there was knowledge.

Raphaeline sensed the atmosphere and offered a crooked smile.

"Wow. That got tense quickly."

Vivianne massaged her temples.

"Could you please save the family drama for later?"

Neberius sighed loudly, purposefully placing himself between Sepphirothy and Sapphire.

"Enough with this childish stuff," she said impatiently. "Let's focus here, okay?"

Sapphire looked away first, bringing the glass to her lips.

Sepphirothy sat down, crossing her legs with calculated elegance.

But behind that seemingly casual exchange, there was something much deeper.

Sapphire knew.

She always knew.

Agares—the entity she truly was—had advanced further into the Abyss than anyone else besides the original Primordials and Sepphirothy. She knew the layers where even concepts crumbled. She knew the traces. She knew the body.

Lilith's body.

And now… it was no longer there.

Sapphire never commented on this.

Never questioned it.

Never confronted it.

Because, unlike Sepphirothy, she wasn't Lilith's daughter.

She was a creation.

A work of art.

An extension of the Demon Goddess.

Technically… sisters.

The thought made Sapphire's mouth taste bitter.

She hated that word.

Neberius, noticing the heavy silence, turned to the arena and pointed with his chin.

"Look."

All turned their attention downwards.

In the colossal arena, a figure walked slowly through the center, carrying something that definitely drew attention.

A tall, thin man, with red hair carelessly tied back, a crooked smile plastered on his face. His steps were too light for someone carrying such a large object.

A gigantic horn.

No.

It wasn't just a horn.

Sapphire narrowed her eyes.

"Tsk… Loki?" she murmured, clearly annoyed.

Katharina leaned forward.

"Why is he in the middle of the arena?"

Neberius frowned.

"Are they going to put a cheat in charge of the announcement?" she growled. "And what the hell is this… why does he have the Gjallarhorn?"

The object in question pulsed with an ancient glow, golden and silver at the same time. Norse runes ran along its surface like living veins. Even from a distance, it was possible to feel the symbolic weight of that relic.

Raphaeline let out a low whistle.

"Isn't that... exaggerated?"

"The Gjallarhorn isn't just a horn," Vivianne said seriously. "It's a catalyst for events. When it sounds, something changes. Always."

Stella crossed her arms.

"Then why is Loki with her?"

As if answering the question, Loki stopped in the center of the arena, turned slowly, and looked directly at the upper boxes.

For a second, it seemed he was looking… at Sapphire.

His smile widened.

"I hate that guy," Roxanne murmured.

Sapphire narrowed her eyes.

"Of course it's him," she said, with restrained contempt. "If there's anyone who would put Gjallarhorn in a tournament just to see the chaos… it's Loki."

Neberius tilted his head.

"This isn't just chaos. This is provocation."

In the arena, Loki dramatically opened his arms.

His voice echoed throughout the coliseum, amplified by magic, divine technology, and sheer audacity.

"Ladies, gentlemen, gods, demons, undead, abstract concepts, and things that definitely shouldn't be here…"

Murmurs rose from the audience.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Celestial Tournament!"

He spun the Gjallarhorn with absurd ease and set it down.

"There have been… minor rule changes" he said, with a smile too innocent to be trusted. "And honestly, no one better than someone like me to announce it."

Sapphire gritted her teeth.

"He's having fun."

Sepphirothy watched silently, her expression unreadable.

She sensed something was wrong.

Not just Loki.

Not just the horn.

But the fabric of the event as a whole.

As if multiple lines of destiny were intersecting in an… artificial way.

In the arena, Loki continued:

"Ah, and before anyone complains" he raised a finger. "All decisions were approved by the council. Some… with more enthusiasm than others."

His gaze briefly swept across the boxes.

"Certain Buddhas, immortal monkeys, and administrative entities know what I'm talking about."

Raphaeline laughed.

"He really wants to die today."

"Loki always wants to," Ada replied. "He just likes to pretend he doesn't."

Down below, Loki finally raised the Gjallarhorn.

The sound hadn't come yet.

But the spiritual pressure increased dramatically.

"When that thing sounds…" Vivianne murmured, "it won't just be the tournament that begins."

Neberius clenched his fist.

"Whatever it is, it's already out of control."

Sapphire took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the arena.

"No," she said slowly. "It's perfectly under control."

Everyone looked at her.

"It's just not ours."

Down below, Loki smiled once more.

Loki brought the Gjallarhorn to his lips.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

The sound that came out wasn't loud—not in the usual sense. It wasn't a rumble, nor a prolonged ringing. It was a deep, primal vibration that didn't reach the ears first, but rather the very concept of existence. A call that pierced layers of reality, making ancient contracts tremble and divine seals creak like old gears.

In the demons' VIP room, everyone felt it.

Some straightened their posture.

Others frowned.

Sapphire simply closed her eyes for a brief moment.

"...It's begun," she murmured.

In the arena, the sound ceased.

Loki slowly moved the horn away, overly pleased with the effect it had caused. The smile on his face was wide, almost childlike—the kind of expression only someone utterly dangerous could maintain in the face of so many powerful entities.

"Very well," he said, clapping once. "Let's get down to business."

Behind him, the arena floor began to move.

It didn't crack.

It didn't break.

It opened.

Colossal slabs of divine stone and metal retracted like mechanical petals, revealing an artificial abyss beneath the coliseum. The audience reacted with growing murmurs, some excited, others suspicious.

Loki raised a hand, and the arena responded.

From the void below, gigantic roots began to rise, intertwining in the air. Trunks rose in seconds, thick as towers, covered in living moss and runic symbols from multiple mythologies. The scent of damp earth, crushed leaves, and ancient magic filled the coliseum.

A forest was springing up.

"First phase of the Celestial Tournament!" Loki announced, spinning in the air as a circular platform slowly lifted him above the new setting. "Battle Royale."

Technological screens began to appear around the arena, dozens of them floating like mechanical eyes. Each showed a different competitor being transported to random points in the forest: minor gods, demigods, human champions, hybrid entities, monsters that seemed to have been ripped directly from forgotten legends.

In the VIP room, Roxanne leaned forward.

"This is… huge."

"And intentionally chaotic," Ada added.

Loki continued, his voice echoing everywhere.

"The rules are simple," he said, opening his arms. "Or rather… elegantly cruel."

A circular hologram appeared in the air above the forest, marking a wide perimeter.

"This is the starting field." Every second — he emphasized the word, pointing downwards — the perimeter will decrease.

The circle began to contract slowly, almost imperceptibly at first.

"In exactly one hour," Loki continued, "the first phase ends. Whoever is outside the boundary… will be eliminated."

"Eliminated how?" Stella murmured.

Vivianne replied dryly:

"The definitive way."

As if to illustrate, a distant area of ​​the forest glowed red for a second. A competitor who had appeared there vanished in a silent flash, as if simply erased.

Raphaeline clicked her tongue.

"Charming."

Loki tilted his head.

"Oh, and don't think it's just a matter of running and hiding. That would be… boring."

The forest trembled.

The ground moved, trunks slid, paths disappeared and others appeared in their place. The vegetation reorganized itself, forming tortuous corridors, dead ends, false clearings.

"The forest is a living labyrinth," Loki explained, excitedly. "It changes. It observes. It learns."

Sapphire narrowed her eyes.

"This isn't an arena," she murmured. "It's a predator."

"Exactly," Sepphirothy replied softly.

Loki snapped his fingers.

The air ripped open in several places in the forest.

From within the cracks, creatures began to emerge.

Some were immediately recognizable.

A fragmented Jörmungandr, smaller versions of the world serpent, slithering among the trees.

Multi-armed Rakshasas, laughing as they sharpened their claws.

Deformed Shinto yōkai, emerging from the shadows.

Distorted Buddhist beasts, manifestations of concepts of trial and suffering.

Greek chimeras, youthful hydras, vengeful Christian spirits, golems made of broken commandments.

"Mythological monsters," Loki announced, pleased. "Provided by the main participating mythologies."

Neberius let out a short, humorless laugh.

"They're not trying to test strength."

"They're testing adaptation," Sapphire corrected. "And instinct."

Loki pointed to the screens.

"Each monster has a function. Some hunt. Others surround. Some just… observe."

He winked.

"And some are bait."

A scream echoed from the forest, transmitted by one of the screens. A competitor had attacked something that seemed harmless—and was instantly surrounded by three larger creatures.

"Ah," Loki said theatrically. "That never gets old."

In the VIP room, the atmosphere was heavy.

Katharina crossed her arms.

"This is going to turn into a massacre."

"It's a filter" Sepphirothy replied. "They want to reduce numbers. Force decisions. Expose who really knows how to survive when brute force doesn't solve everything."

Sapphire watched a specific screen, her golden eyes attentive.

"And those who shouldn't be here… will die quickly."

"And who should be?" Raphaeline asked.

Sapphire didn't answer immediately.

In the arena, Loki raised the Gjallarhorn one last time, but didn't blow on it.

"Remember" he said, with a dangerous smile. "Alliances are allowed. Betrayals too."

He tilted his head.

"This is a Battle Royale. There is no honor. Only survival."

The platform began to descend slowly, while the forest closed in completely, swallowing the competitors.

The screens focused on the first confrontations.

Screams. Explosions of power. Magic colliding with claws and fangs.

Until one of the screens changed.

It wasn't subtle.

It wasn't gradual.

It simply took over.

The other transmissions automatically shrank, pushed to the sides, while a single image expanded to occupy almost the entire field of vision of the coliseum. The system had reacted on its own—as if it had instinctively recognized that this was not a common event.

In the demons' VIP room, everyone leaned slightly forward.

"What…?" Roxanne murmured.

The image stabilized.

It was a man.

White hair, long enough to fall carelessly over his shoulders, contrasting violently with eyes that were too light, almost piercing. There were battle scars on his face—soot, dried blood, heat cracks in his skin—and yet, he seemed calm.

Too relaxed.

He held something in front of him.

Not an ordinary camera.

"…A drone of Hephaestus" murmured Vivianne, recognizing the metallic runes that flickered faintly. "A model of divine observation."

The man tilted the object, adjusting the angle like someone testing the framing before speaking.

Then he opened his mouth.

"Hey."

The word echoed.

Not because of volume.

But because of intention.

The entire coliseum fell silent.

Even the monsters in the forest seemed to hesitate for a microsecond. The competitors froze, instincts screaming that something was profoundly wrong.

The man brought his face close to the makeshift lens.

"Hey, you son of a bitch."

A collective sigh swept through the divine, infernal, and all-in-one stands.

"I'm talking to you" he continued, his voice firm, casual, almost bored. "Don't play dumb."

His blue eyes narrowed slightly.

"I'm going to kill everyone here."

Some gods shifted in their seats.

Others smiled.

Some… became too serious.

"And then" he continued, as if explaining a simple agenda "I'll come after you."

He gave a crooked half-smile.

"You fucking divine bitch."

In the VIP room, Neberius swore under his breath.

"He just…"

"Yes" Sapphire replied, without looking away. "He just…"

The man took a deep breath, and for a moment seemed to hear something distant—perhaps screams, perhaps the roar of the surrounding fire.

"Someone from your past" he said, now in a lower, more personal tone—asked me to destroy you.

The smile vanished.

"Pathetically."

The air around the image began to ripple. Flames reflected in his eyes, dancing as if they were part of his body.

"Then get ready" he continued. "I hope you have the Aegis."

He tilted his head mockingly.

"You'll need it, you bitch."

Without further warning, he clenched his fist.

Hephaestus' drone exploded.

Not in sparks.

Not in fragments.

But in an absolute thermal collapse—divine metal vaporized instantly, the image swallowed by pure white before disappearing completely.

The silence that followed was… deafening.

Then another screen activated automatically.

It showed the environment where the man was.

A sea of ​​flames stretched as far as the camera could capture. Tornadoes of fire swirled slowly, some so large they distorted the horizon. The ground looked like molten glass, cracking and recomposing itself under unimaginable waves of heat.

Mythological monsters—too large to be seen in their entirety—burned in the distance.

They weren't fighting.

They were being extinguished.

In the VIP room, Stella swallowed hard.

"…Is he talking about Athena?"

Sapphire finally smiled.

A slow smile. Dangerous.

"That madman" she murmured. "He entered the tournament threatening the damn Goddess of Wisdom and War."

Neberius crossed his arms.

"That's not a threat."

"It's an announced execution" Sepphirothy finished, her eyes fixed on the screen.

In the arena, Loki stood motionless for exactly three seconds.

Then—

"THAT'S THE WAY YOU TALK!"

The god of mischief laughed loudly, throwing his head back, absolutely ecstatic.

"THAT'S WHY I LOVE LIVE EVENTS!" he shouted, clapping his hands. "THREATS! CHAOS! PAST TRAUMAS!"

He turned to the stands, arms outstretched.

"Ladies and gentlemen, remember this name" he said, overly excited. "Because someone just turned the first phase into something much more interesting. The one who just threatened the Goddess Athena was none other than the Demon King, Vergil Lucifer!"