My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 399: Divine Calling

The sky was tinged with dark gold, as if time had stopped between sunset and eternal night. In the center of a hall formed by floating pillars and platforms that defied the logic of gravity, deities from different pantheons watched each other with caution... and curiosity.

That was when a golden cloud whizzed through the air and stopped with a muffled crack in the center of the main platform.

"Well, well... what kind of interesting gathering is this?" asked the newcomer, with a broad smile on his face.

It was Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. He wore a red robe torn at the shoulders, adorned with golden pieces, and lazily twirled his Ruyi Jingu Bang staff between his fingers as if it were just a toy.

"I hope you didn’t call me for another heavenly tournament. I’m already bored of humiliating dragons and generals." He yawned exaggeratedly.

"You weren’t invited, Wukong," came the cold and sharp reply.

A female figure walked to the center with firm steps. Susanoo, Goddess of Storms, wore a black kimono with silver clouds embroidered on it, and her long katana was already half unsheathed. Her violet eyes burned like lightning trapped in crystal.

"And yet, you walk in as if you own the hall."

"Susanoo! Darling, please!" Wukong raised his hands, sitting cross-legged on his own cloud, still with a mocking smile. "We’re friends, aren’t we? F.R.I.E.N.D.S." He spelled out the word in the air with golden smoke, clicking his tongue.

Before more divine sparks could fly, another voice emerged from the side with treacherous softness: "Friends or enemies... it depends on the day of the week, doesn’t it?"

Loki entered the scene. Tall, slender, dark green hair with a white streak waving like a living shadow. His black suit looked like it was made of intertwined snakes, and he walked as if dancing with danger.

"I confess it’s exciting to see so many cosmic egos in one place. I almost feel small." He smiled, like a wolf before armed sheep.

"Silence, liar," came the deep, powerful voice. Kali appeared like a wave of heat.

Her bronze skin glowed like obsidian, her four arms adorned with war jewelry, and her flaming hair waved like living flames. Her eyes burned with ancestral rage.

"I don’t remember giving the god of lies the floor."

"Calm down, Kalizinha!" Loki raised two hands in a gesture of surrender, while the other two pulled an ebony apple out of thin air. "I am the god of lies, not physical resistance! I die easily!"

Wukong laughed loudly, clapping his hands. "Finally, a meeting where I can die laughing before the fight even begins."

Before the taunts turned into thunder, poison, or fruit thrown with divine intent, a sharp laugh echoed through the hall—this time coming from above.

From a tear in the golden fabric of the sky, a chariot made of celestial bones pulled by crows spiraled down. On it, standing upright like a shadow that had learned to walk, was a woman with black hair as wavy as the sea in a storm, dressed in a cloak of crow feathers that seemed to absorb the light itself.

It was Hel.

Half of her face was hauntingly beautiful, pale and eternal. The other half, rotting, revealed bones and muscles dark as frozen mud. Her eyes—one dead, the other alive—watched everything with bored supremacy.

"I came only for the scent of conflict," said Hel, descending from the carriage with funeral elegance. "The invitation? Ah, I thought it was a trap, but I am disappointed. Nothing exploded when I crossed the portal."

Right after her, an emerald wind swept through the hall. Spinning like a tribal dance, Quetzalcóatl appeared in his winged serpentine form, before taking on a humanoid shape—golden skin, eyes like molten emeralds, and living feathers that hissed on his back like leaves in the wind.

"If this is a trap," he said, with a smirk, "let it be a beautiful trap." His gaze swept over the group of deities with almost scientific fascination. "And what a bold choice... to call so many egos to a single stage."

"That’s exactly what worried me," added a deep voice, resonant like the dawn in the valleys. Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess, appeared walking on a thin circle of light, each step leaving floral trails that wilted at the touch of the divine air. "No one here would summon so many gods without a purpose. Not even Loki."

"Thank you for your trust," replied Loki, with feigned offense and a theatrical bite into the black apple.

That was when a burst of black smoke and bitter wines cut through the space. A portal in the shape of a cracked mirror appeared, and from it Baron Samedi emerged—top hat tilted, gold teeth, sunglasses even in the divine twilight.

"Now we’re talking," he hummed, lighting an ethereal cigar that burned with spectral blue light. "I thought it was going to be one of those boring meetings... but I see faces that haven’t been seen since Ragnarok." He laughed heartily. "And others who should have stayed dead."

A buzz began. Everyone was talking, speculating, suspicious. Who had brought them together? Why so many pantheons? Why now?

Until the sky fell silent of its own accord.

A chill ran through the pillars and platforms.

The crows began to caw.

And then she arrived.

Morrigan.

Floating on a spiral of wings, dried blood, and liquid shadows, the Goddess of War, Prophecy, and Death landed with a silent impact—as if reality had held its breath so as not to disturb her.

Her hair, like sacred oil, floated lightly, and her eyes were two eclipses in flames. Her body, wrapped in a dress of mourning and combat, exuded a power without vanity — only inevitability.

The silence was complete. Even Wukong stopped spinning his staff.

Morrigan walked among them like a reaper among ghosts, and stopped exactly in the center of the main platform. She did not smile. She did not blink. She just watched — as if she already knew the outcome of that meeting.

And then, in a low, sharp, blunt voice, Morrigan said, with a half-smile that seemed to ooze venom:

"Who wants to kill the two Dragon Empresses?"

For a moment, silence reigned supreme. No bravado, no jokes — not even Wukong dared to laugh.

It was Kali who broke the moment, raising an eyebrow with visible disapproval. She sighed as if listening to a child asking to play with dynamite.

"I’m leaving."

Her silhouette dissolved into red flames, disappearing from the plane with the same intensity with which she had arrived.

Morrigan didn’t even blink. She just watched the ashes scatter. And then she said, as if speaking to no one — or to the entire universe at once:

"They will be reborn. In a few days... maybe weeks."

A purple flash broke through the air, and Kali reappeared in the same spot where she had been, her eyes more attentive this time. "Tell me more."

Morrigan crossed her arms, indifferent to the surprise. "The seal is weakening. And, as you all know, they are not exactly... diplomatic."

She paused dramatically and, with a slight nod, blurted out, "I’m warning you because I owe some favors. One to Sepphirothy... and another, older one, to Agares." She shrugged, as if talking about cosmic debts were trivial.

"If you want to leave, feel free. I just made sure this summons reached the gods who don’t care about laws, consequences... or the fate of the world."

She looked around casually—but her eyes were blades, and every deity knew it.

When she looked again, the hall had emptied.

Everyone was gone.

All... except three.

Kali, imposing as ever.

Wukong, now sitting on his floating staff, nibbling on a heavenly peach with a smile of pure excitement.

And Susanoo, his katana glinting slightly, as if the steel felt anticipation. He looked eager to cut something.

Morrigan raised her eyebrows, genuinely pleased. "Much more than I expected."

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