My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 673: Phase 1. Battle Royale II

The image changed again. Another drone flew towards Vergil. This time, there was no announcement, no fanfare. The transmission simply followed Vergil.

He walked through the living forest as if it weren't a labyrinth created to kill gods.

Vergil advanced in an almost straight line, his steps calm and steady, sinking slightly into the ground covered in roots and black leaves. The heat around him was constant, an invisible pressure that caused the nearby vegetation to wither before even touching him.

Trees bent as he passed. Who am I kidding, they burned or were sliced ​​by invisible blades of wind, some died simply from his shadow touching them, generating unprecedented destruction.

Some plants simply died, their bark burning from the inside out, as if the forest had understood that trying to block him was useless.

"He could just walk without destroying everything… I feel sorry for the plants," murmured Vivianne, watching the screen.

"They're not plants, they're magic. There's no real life, it's purely aesthetic," Sepphirothy replied. "Don't worry."

Vergil casually reached out and touched the trunk of a colossal tree blocking the path. There was no explosion. No spectacle.

The trunk simply crumbled, transforming into incandescent ashes that scattered like dust in the wind.

"He doesn't want to get lost," Sapphire commented, her green eyes attentive. "He's creating a path."

In the forest, the labyrinth reacted.

Roots began to move ahead of him, trying to close the newly opened trail. The ground rose, forming an abrupt drop. The vegetation thickened artificially, trying to force a change of route.

Vergil sighed. A genuine sigh. Tired.

"Annoying." He stamped his foot. The impact wasn't physical, it was conceptual.

A wave of heat and pressure spread in a circle, vaporizing everything within a precise radius. The ground melted and solidified again, forming a smooth, vitrified trail, as if it had been forged.

A permanent path. "He's marking his territory," said Neberius, with a tense smile. "Like an ancient predator."

A creature emerged from among the trees.

A multi-armed Rakshasa, its muscles tense, its eyes gleaming with excitement as it perceived its target. It leaped, claws at the ready, laughing loudly.

Vergil didn't stop walking.

The moment the creature came within his reach, the air split. An invisible cut cut across space, and the Rakshasa was divided into several perfectly aligned sections, which slid to the ground before they even realized they had been hit.

Vergil didn't even look back.

"Zero wasted movement…" murmured Stella. "A waste of time dealing with such trivial things."

In the VIP room, Sapphire tilted her head. "For some reason, I feel he's heading towards someone."

The camera followed Vergil from behind now, revealing the trail he left: charred trees, roots fused to the ground, monsters reduced to nothing. The forest tried to reorganize itself behind him, but something was wrong.

She couldn't close the path.

"The labyrinth isn't learning from him," Vivianne observed. "Every pattern it tries to apply… fails." She laughed, "Her husband is crazy."

Vergil finally stopped… Not out of necessity… But by choice. He slowly raised his gaze, sensing something approaching.

Three presences.

A young hydra emerged from the trees on the left, its heads hissing. On the right, a distorted Buddhist entity, covered in broken seals, crawled across the ground. Ahead, the ground split open, revealing a fragment of Jörmungandr, the serpent writhing among roots and fire.

Vergil cracked his neck.

"Finally." He spread his arms slightly, as if stretching before a trivial exercise.

"Let's finish this quickly." The heat exploded.

Not in uncontrolled flames, but in absolute order. Each creature was enveloped by a specific, personalized pressure, as if Vergil were solving three different problems at the same time.

The hydra was reduced to ashes before regenerating. The Buddhist entity was sealed within itself, collapsing into a silent mantra. The fragment of the world serpent was pierced by a luminous fissure that burned away the very concept of regeneration.

All in less than two seconds.

In the arena, Loki roared with laughter.

"HE'S NOT PLAYING!" he shouted, amazed. "HE'S WALKING TO THE END!" In the VIP room, Sapphire rested her elbow on the arm of the throne. "Haha, that kid, he's not even trying to win."

"Then what does he want?" Roxanne asked. "Seeing how he is… don't tell me that—"

Sapphire smiled slightly. "He's heading towards someone, he's hunting Athena's apostle."

The camera focused on Vergil's face for a moment.

"Athena…" he murmured, almost to himself. "I hope you're watching."

And then he resumed walking, opening up the forest as if the Celestial Tournament were merely…

…a corridor on the way to something much bigger.

The transmission zoomed out from Vergil. Not because he had moved out of the drone's range—but because something else demanded attention.

The coliseum screens rearranged themselves once more, now showing a space radically different from the brutality of the forest. Various competitors, all types of fighters.

[Olympus VIP Room]

The contrast was almost offensive.

While the arena below seethed with blood, magic, and chaos, the Olympus VIP room exuded order, marble, and eternity.

White columns carved with absolute perfection supported a golden ceiling where artificial constellations slowly rotated. Living tapestries depicted ancient wars, divine victories, and the supremacy of the Olympian gods throughout the ages. The floor reflected light like a polished mirror, and the air carried the scent of ambrosia and thunder.

In the center, a large semicircle of elevated seats.

Zeus sat on the main throne. The king of the gods seemed… amused.

He rested his elbow on the arm of the throne, slowly twirling his intertwined fingers in his thick, white beard, his electric blue eyes following the broadcast with genuine interest.

"Hmmm…" he murmured, a curious smile appearing at the corner of his lips. "This is getting interesting."

Beside him, Hera maintained a rigid posture, clearly dissatisfied with it all. Further on, Poseidon observed silently, while Apollo seemed torn between fascination and discomfort.

Athena sat a few levels below. And unlike the others… she didn't react.

"So," Zeus finally said, breaking the silence, "someone wants to explain to me…"

He tilted his head slightly toward the screen, where Vergil was still advancing through the forest. "…what did my favorite daughter do to make a Demon King decide he wants to hunt her down personally?"

Some gods chuckled softly.

Ares, leaning back carelessly in his seat, grinned widely and cruelly.

"Why, father, that's obvious," he said, crossing his arms. "She must have threatened someone. Or killed someone important. Or interfered in something she shouldn't have."

He let out a short laugh. "Athena has always been wisely stupid when she thinks she knows too much."

A few murmurs arose.

Hera shot a sharp look at Ares, but didn't reprimand him.

Zeus continued smiling, curious. "And then?" he asked, now directly to Athena. "What was it this time?"

Athena didn't answer. Not immediately. She kept her gaze fixed on the screen, watching Vergil make his way through as if the world had been made to bow to him.

Her silence wasn't arrogance. It was… confusion.

"Athena?" Zeus insisted, now with a slightly more serious tone.

She blinked slowly.

"I…" she began, but stopped. Her mind was far from the room. Far from Olympus.

She reviewed memories.

Wars she intervened in.

Heroes she guided.

Mortals she punished.

Gods she faced.

Nothing.

No white-haired Demon King.

No man with that look.

No conversation.

No direct war.

"I never saw him," she said finally, her voice firm but low. "I never spoke to him. I never fought him."

Ares raised an eyebrow. "Of course. It always starts like this."

"I'm telling the truth," Athena retorted, now looking at him coldly. "There are no records. Not in mine. Not in the archives of Olympus."

Zeus narrowed his eyes, thoughtful.

"Even so," he said, "he said something very specific."

Athena felt a strange weight in her chest. The words echoed in her mind, too clear. "Someone from your past asked me to destroy you."

Her gaze lingered for a second.

"...that's what worries me," she murmured.

Hera leaned slightly forward.

"Explain yourself."

Athena took a deep breath.

"If he were attacking me out of rivalry, ideology, or war... I would understand." Her fingers closed slightly on the armrest. "But this isn't personal in the usual way."

She looked up at Zeus.

"Someone asked for it." The hall grew quieter.

"A request," Zeus repeated slowly. "A contract? Well, he's a demon. It's possible someone hired him. After all, this is the best place to kill a god."

"Or revenge," Apollo added. "Or a past mistake," Poseidon said seriously.

Ares grinned, showing his teeth. "Or someone she killed and forgot."

Athena closed her eyes for a moment.

She hated to admit it.

But… something was wrong.

"I don't remember anyone," she said. "But if someone from my past contacted you…"

She opened her eyes again, now dark. "Then it's someone I underestimated."

On the screen, Vergil continued to advance.

Each step he took seemed closer.

Zeus chuckled softly.

"Well," he said, rising slightly on his throne, "whoever it is… it seems we'll have answers soon."

His smile was sharp. "Because that man doesn't walk like someone who's going to stop and talk."

Athena clenched her fists.

For the first time in a long time… She felt something she rarely felt.

Not fear.

But the unsettling feeling that the past was coming back to haunt her.