My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 717: It has begun.

The corridor leading to the outer wing of the VIP lounge was empty.

Not just empty of people—empty of presence.

The kind of silence that doesn’t arise by chance, but seems... organized. As if the environment itself had been deliberately emptied, removing any distraction, any witness, any unwanted interference.

He walked without haste.

Dante’s steps were light, almost carefree, echoing softly across the polished floor, but there was something profoundly wrong with the way he moved. It wasn’t the walk of someone relaxed. It was the walk of someone absolutely self-assured, who didn’t need to look around, who didn’t need to check anything.

Because he already knew.

Everything was already in place.

The phone in his hand seemed too small to carry the weight of that conversation.

He stopped near one of the columns, leaning slightly against it, as if he were just killing time. His eyes, however, were not distracted. They were devoid of humor, devoid of that irreverent sparkle that usually accompanied him.

When he held the device to his ear, there was no greeting.

No formality.

The call was already underway.

"Ready?" the voice on the other end asked.

There was no distortion. No exaggerated emotion. It was a clean, controlled voice, but laden with an authority that didn’t need asserting itself. It wasn’t a common question. It was a check.

Dante let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair, as if slightly tired—a gesture that, in any other situation, would seem too casual for something important.

"It took longer than I wanted," he replied, his voice low but firm. "But it’s lined up now."

A brief pause followed.

Long enough to be uncomfortable.

Short enough not to be a question.

"Vergil?" the voice asked.

Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Doing exactly what I expected," he said. "Testing. Observing. He hasn’t noticed yet."

That wasn’t a problem.

It was part of the plan.

"He can’t notice before his time," the voice on the other end replied.

Dante chuckled slightly, but there was no humor in it.

"Believe me, when he does notice..." He tilted his head slightly, staring into the emptiness before him. "It won’t matter anymore."

Another silence.

This time, heavier.

"Then begin," the voice said.

There was no hesitation.

There was no doubt.

There was no discussion.

Dante closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if organizing something internally—not emotions, but decisions.

"I’ll begin now."

A pause.

And then, the answer came.

Simple.

Direct.

"Do whatever is necessary."

The click of the ended call was abrupt.

Definitive.

Dante remained motionless for a few seconds, the phone still in his hand, his gaze lost on something that wasn’t there. There was no conflict in his expression. No internal struggle, no shadow of regret.

Just... adjustment.

Slowly, he put the device back in his pocket.

And then...

It changed.

It wasn’t a visible movement.

There was no explosion of energy.

But the atmosphere around him... sank.

The air seemed heavier, denser, as if something invisible had been released—something that didn’t manifest in form, but in presence.

The Dante who laughed, who provoked, who watched the fights with an amused glint in his eyes...

Disappeared.

In his place, there was someone completely different.

Cold.

Calculating.

Precise.

He raised his gaze.

And began to walk again.

The secondary VIP room, isolated from the others, maintained a completely different atmosphere.

There, the chaos of the battlefield didn’t arrive in the form of noise, but in images—clear, expansive projections that showed every detail of the confrontation below.

Yama stood.

Her arms crossed, her body slightly leaning forward, her gaze fixed on the image of Vergil and Angelo. The irritation that had previously dominated her expression had been replaced by something more interesting.

Curiosity.

But not a light curiosity.

A sharp curiosity.

Analytical.

"He’s improving," she said, without turning around, her voice low, almost thoughtful.

In the projection, Angelo advanced again.

Faster.

More precise.

His blows were no longer disorganized, no longer mere attempts. There was structure to them. There was intention.

And, most importantly...

There was a response.

Vergil moved to avoid an attack—and Angelo adjusted his next one.

Vergil counterattacked—and Angelo absorbed, adapted, responded.

"Interesting..." Yama murmured, tilting her head slightly.

"He’s getting stronger while he’s getting beaten."

There was no irony in her voice.

It was an observation.

Almost... approval.

She slowly uncrossed her arms, a small smile appearing on her lips.

"If this continues, he’s going to become a real problem."

She didn’t notice.

Not immediately.

The sound.

Or rather...

Its absence.

Because Dante entered the room without making a sound.

The door didn’t creak.

His footsteps didn’t echo.

Not even the air seemed to react to his presence.

He simply... was there.

Behind her.

Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body.

But Yama didn’t turn around.

Yet.

"You took your time," she said casually, as if she already knew he was there. "I was starting to think you’d lost interest."

No answer.

Her absence, this time, was... strange.

Yama frowned slightly.

And it was at that moment...

That Dante moved closer.

Leaning in slightly.

His face close to her ear.

And then he spoke.

Softly.

Almost a whisper.

But laden with something that left no room for error.

"Goodbye."

The world seemed to stop for an instant.

Not because something visible happened.

But because the meaning of the word... came before the action.

And then it came.

Without warning.

Without hesitation.

Without room for reaction.

Dante’s hand closed around Yama’s neck with brutal speed, his fingers digging in with immediate force, compressing the trachea and arteries simultaneously, not as an impulsive attack—but as a precise execution.

The impact of the force was so sudden that Yama’s body was violently pulled back, his feet losing contact with the ground for a second before hitting it again, dragging.

The sound of air being abruptly cut escaped his throat.

A reflex.

Nothing more.

His eyes widened instantly.

Not from pain.

But from shock. Pure.

Absolute.

Her hand automatically moved to his arm, trying to push him away, trying to create space, trying to breathe—but there was no space.

There was no air.

The pressure was overwhelming.

Dante wasn’t just holding back.

He was crushing.

His fingers tightened even more, the force increasing with cruel precision, calculated to prevent any sound, any attempt at conjuration, any reaction that required even a second of focus.

Yama tried to twist her body, use her weight, release energy—

But something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Her energy... didn’t respond.

For a brief instant—too short to fully comprehend—she realized.

It wasn’t just physical force.

There was something more.

Something pressing down.

Blocking.

Sealing.

Her eyes met Dante’s.

And it was at that moment that the real shock happened.

Because he wasn’t hesitating. There was no doubt.

There was no anger.

There was no pleasure.

Only... decision.

Cold.

Final.

"You—"

She tried to speak.

But the word died before it was born.

Dante tightened his grip.

More.

The sound was dry.

A muffled snap, almost imperceptible, but definitive.

The structure of her neck began to give way under the pressure, the muscles being compressed beyond their natural limit, circulation violently interrupted.

Yama tried to react one last time.

Her body released an impulse—a belated reflex, a desperate attempt to break free from control.

But it was useless.

With his other hand, Dante grabbed her arm at the exact moment she tried to channel energy, twisting it slightly, not to break it—but to completely destabilize any formation of focus.

He knew.

He knew exactly what to stop.

Exactly how to stop it.

The seconds stretched out.

Long.

Cruel.

Yama’s eyes began to lose focus.

Not slowly.

But abruptly.

The body still fought.

Instinctively.

But consciousness...

Was already fading.

Dante didn’t look away.

He didn’t ease the pressure.

He didn’t hesitate.

He waited.

He waited until he felt.

The exact moment.

When the resistance ceased.

When the body stopped fighting.

When the energy... disappeared.

And then...

He let go.

Without ceremony.

Without care.

Yama’s body fell to the ground with a dry, heavy, inert impact.

Without reaction.

Without movement.

Without life.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Heavier than any sound could be.

Dante stood for a few seconds, looking at the body at his feet, his expression completely unchanged.

No emotion.

No satisfaction.

No regret.

It was just... a stage.

Completed.

He slowly looked away, turning back to the projection.

Where the battle continued.

Where Vergil was still fighting.

Unknowingly.

Unawarely.

That something much bigger...

Had already begun.

Yama’s body was still warm when silence returned to dominate the room.

Not the natural silence of an isolated environment, but that specific kind that arises after something irreversible. The air seemed heavier, as if reality itself had taken a few seconds to accept what had just happened. The projection of the labyrinth remained active, indifferent to the death that had occurred a few meters away, displaying in real time the brutal confrontation between Vergil, Shiva, and Alice, as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed.

Dante no longer looked at the body on the floor.

He had already moved on.

His eyes were fixed on the projection, observing the movements with the same calm with which someone analyzes a game already decided. There was no urgency in his posture. There was no tension. Just absolute control of the situation, as if each variable were exactly where it should be.

As if each piece were moving as planned.

He slowly slid his hand into his pocket, taking out his phone with the same naturalness as before. The gesture carried no emotional weight. It was automatic. Functional.

His thumb passed over the screen, selecting a specific contact.

Without hesitation.

Without pause.

He brought the device to his ear.

The call was answered even before the second ring was complete.

There was no introduction.

There was no confirmation of identity.

They both knew who they were talking to.

Dante’s expression didn’t change.

His eyes were still on the projection.

Vergil dodged a blow.

Angelo adapted.

Alice watched.

Shiva advanced.

Everything... in motion.

Everything... with the flow.

And then Dante spoke.

A single word.

"It has begun."