My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 265: Forgive me...

Vergil stood still before the immense skeletal dragon, his eyes narrowing as he felt the energy still pulsing, though weak, deep within the bones of the monster. The air around him seemed to carry a sense of anticipation, as if the place itself were waiting for something.

Suddenly, the silence was broken.

A deep crack echoed through the air.

Vergil looked at the dragon. The energy that had once been weak and formless began to concentrate, condensing into a focal point at the shattered skull's center. The air grew heavier, and the bones began to crack, as if some invisible force was reassembling the broken parts.

He felt the pressure intensify.

The dragon's jaw moved slowly, and its massive head lifted, rotating with an unnatural force. The ribs, once scattered and broken, began to align, reconnecting to the rest of the skeleton.

The sound was like the creaking of twisted metal, yet filled with a primordial force, as if the very world were bending to accommodate the monster.

Vergil remained unmoving, his eyes now fixed on the jeweled eyes of the dragon, which glowed with an intense purple light, as if each gem reflected a lost soul, a profane energy.

The dragon's body rose, slowly, its massive claws digging back into the ground as the bones reformed in a way that defied logic. Each fragment reconnected precisely, imbued with dark energy that seemed to feed on death and emptiness itself.

The dragon's mouth opened, revealing enormous fangs, and from its throat came a guttural roar, full of power and fury. It was as if the very sound were breaking the laws of nature, reverberating in the depths of the soul of anyone who heard it.

Vergil simply watched calmly.

The dragon, now fully revived, stood tall in all its grandeur, its overwhelming presence, dark energy radiating from its body. It shifted for a moment, testing its own strength, before focusing entirely on Vergil, as if recognizing him as a challenge.

The creature tilted its head, as if trying to understand the being who dared to stand before its majesty.

Vergil did not retreat. There was no fear, no hesitation. He observed the creature with cold calm, as if he were simply appreciating the manifestation of its strength.

"So, you came back to life," Vergil murmured, his eyes locked on the colossal figure before him. "A reincarnation made by death itself... You're the 'pet' of that guy I killed?" he asked with quiet curiosity, without moving, without showing the slightest fear. "Ashborne, huh... I must admit, he was full of surprises."

The skeletal dragon let out a guttural roar, more threatening than before, reverberating against the walls with such force that the ground seemed to tremble. Its tail lifted, slamming into the ground with such power that the stones around it seemed to shatter. The energy emanating from the monster was oppressive, but Vergil, indifferent, remained in his position. The pressure around him increased, but he felt more curiosity about the energy than anything else.

The dragon, now fully revitalized, looked at Vergil with a breathtaking intensity. The air seemed to distort around them, and the tension was palpable, as if time itself had slowed down.

Vergil did not move. There was not even a trace of fear in his expression. In fact, he was bored—not with the dragon, but with the idea of fighting. To him, the only thing that mattered there was the power, the energy of death, that flowed through the air like a seductive promise. That was what drew him in, not the dragon or anything else.

"You killed the King," the dragon's voice resonated, distorted and deep, mingled with millions of others, echoing throughout the environment. "You killed my King." It repeated, with a tone bordering on fury.

Vergil raised an eyebrow, his tone as casual as ever. "Ah, yes. I killed him. Got a problem with that?" He settled in, as if completely indifferent to the enormity of what was happening around him. He wasn't there to fight. He wasn't there to intimidate. Vergil simply didn't care.

He sheathed Yamato with a smooth motion and, without hurry, sat down on the cold floor, cross-legged, as though in tranquil meditation, completely aloof to the monstrous presence before him. He looked at the dragon, not with fear, but with calculated patience.

"I'm only interested in one thing here, and it's not you or your 'King.' You're just a pawn in something much bigger," Vergil murmured, his eyes glinting with a blade-like disinterest. "Show me what this place has to offer. If death brought me here, then... it's death that interests me."

The dragon, impatient with Vergil's indifference, didn't hesitate. It lifted its monstrous head, its eyes glowing with a threatening light. The darkness around it intensified, and then it cast a deadly glare toward Vergil, as if its mere gaze were enough to shatter anyone before it.

But before the dragon could take its first step, Vergil extended his hand in a nearly imperceptible motion. In the next instant, a series of invisible wind blades sliced through the air. The dragon, still with its gaze fixed on Vergil, was suddenly torn apart, its skeletal body cleaved in half as if it were made of paper, a series of precise, lethal cuts.

"Ah, this technique I stole from Stella really is good," Vergil commented calmly, watching the destruction with indifference. The wind blades continued to cut through the dragon's flesh and bones, until, at last, the monster disintegrated into a pile of floating cubes of bone and shadow, scattered across the marble floor.

Vergil looked at the destroyed dragon for a moment, his expression impassive. There was no hint of effort in his movements, and the technique, though simple, had devastating power. He reclined slightly, as if doing it purely out of convenience, and watched as the pieces of the dragon reorganized, the monster beginning to regenerate, the skeleton reassembling itself.

"Interesting," Vergil murmured, unhurried. He watched the dragon regain its form, the skeleton rising once more, the bones returning to their places, and the dark energy beginning to pulse around it, as if death and life were intertwining in the very essence of the dragon.

"You can regenerate, huh... but can you keep that form for long?" Vergil asked, his eyes fixed on the dragon's transformation. The regeneration was a notable skill, but Vergil was unimpressed. To him, this was just another part of the puzzle, a small distraction until he got what he truly desired: the power emanating from this place.

The dragon, now fully regenerated, stood once again, its skeleton glowing with a black shadow aura. It roared, the deafening sound reverberating throughout the hall, and its sharp claws ripped into the ground as it prepared to attack. Its fury was palpable, the negative energy in its form causing cracks in the marble beneath it. However, Vergil didn't move.

With his hands still in his pockets, he remained seated, unperturbed, watching the dragon with an uncommon coldness. The monster advanced toward him, its massive mouth opening in a scream of destruction, but Vergil didn't even blink.

"You really think I'm foolish enough to be intimidated by such... a primitive creature?" Vergil said calmly, his voice like a sharp blade cutting through the air. The truth was, he didn't even care about the dragon's threat. To him, it was just another manifestation of senseless rage, a foolish trick from a weak being trying to impose itself.

The dragon, furious, attacked in every possible way. It fired blasts of dark energy, slashed with its sharp claws, even tried to crush Vergil with its giant tail. But every movement, every attempt at an attack, was simply ignored by Vergil. He dodged with the grace of a predator, the strength of a monster like the dragon dissipating in the face of Vergil's tranquility.

And so, Vergil continued sitting, in total control of the situation, watching as the dragon struggled in vain. He almost seemed bored, as if the dragon were just a child throwing a tantrum, trying to gain attention.

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

With each failed attack, the dragon began to realize the difference in power between them. It roared again, but now there was something different in its sound. A note of doubt, a slight tension in its voice, as if it was beginning to question its own strength.

Vergil watched this with a subtle smile. "Do you still believe you can defeat me? Do you still think a creature like you has what it takes to face me?" He slowly stood up, unhurried, walking calmly toward the dragon, which was already beginning to hesitate, its confidence wavering with every step Vergil took.

The dragon, now exhausted, looked at Vergil with its eyes glowing with both rage and fear. But as Vergil approached, its own energy seemed to dissipate. It was failing in its regeneration, the black energy that once filled its body now beginning to falter, as if something was draining its life away. It tried to retreat, but its own bones started to tremble, the forces that once held it up beginning to crumble.

Vergil stopped before it, his cold, calculating eyes fixed on the monster. He placed his hand on the dragon's shoulder, and the energy of the dragon itself began to reverse, being sucked directly into Vergil as if the very being was being undone before him.

The dragon, once an indomitable force, was now on its knees, its head lowered, its energy dwindling with every passing second. The expression on the dragon's face was pure terror, as if it finally understood that its existence was entirely in Vergil's hands.

The dragon, completely broken, looked at Vergil with a gaze full of dread. The pride it once had as a powerful creature had been shattered in an instant, its massive skeletal form now filled with cracks and flaws. Its heavy breathing echoed in the silence of the room, and it was when Vergil subtly leaned in, locking eyes with the monster, that he spoke, a cruel smile on his lips.

"Now, you're going to beg for mercy, aren't you? After all, death isn't as grand as you thought, is it?" Vergil said with a tone of mockery, his voice resounding like a final sentence.

And then, the dragon, for the first time in its immortal existence, prostrated itself before Vergil. Its massive head struck the ground with a dull thud. The fear was evident in its posture, and the monster, which once believed itself unbeatable, was now completely submissive.

"Forgive me…" the dragon murmured, its voice broken and full of terror, as if hell itself were about to consume its soul. "Forgive me, master... for everything..."

It lay on the ground, pleading... "Ah yes, some respect," Vergil said as he stood up. "Now, start talking before I kill you," Vergil ordered, and the dragon began to shrink...