My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses-Chapter 145 - No. Chaos Unleased (End)

[Location: New York, USA]

"That she’s not afraid of me," he replied lightly. "Most gods, angels, demons—they feel war before they see it. Ancient race like her?" He tapped his temple.

"She is to be brought before our God King Zeus," Ares finished, tone light, almost playful. "That’s the order given to me... no matter what~"

The words settled.

Not like thunder.

Like a blade laid gently against the throat of the world.

For half a heartbeat, nobody spoke.

Then—

"No."

The word left my mouth quietly.

Flat.

Absolute.

Ares blinked.

Not because he hadn’t heard me.

But because, for the first time since he arrived, someone had refused him without dressing it up in fear, reverence, or negotiation.

Carmilla stepped beside me as her crimson gown whispered against the pavement, the air around her cooling by a fraction—not with frost, but with something heavier.

Finality.

Her red eyes never left Ares.

"You speak very freely for someone standing this close to my Lord’s child," she said softly.

Ares’ gaze flicked to her at last.

Ah.

Recognition.

Not fear—never that—but acknowledgement. The way a veteran warrior notices another who has survived too many wars to be impressed.

"Ancient vampire royalty," Ares mused. "Right. You’re still around. Thought the last purge took your kind."

Carmilla smiled.

The kind of smile that had ended bloodlines.

"We endure."

The street trembled.

Not physically—no cracks, no explosions—but conceptually, like reality itself was bracing.

Zeraphira took my other side, "Though I don’t know what darling’s relationship is with this kid or this vampire woman," she said coldly, eyes never leaving Ares, "I will not allow Olympus to lay a finger on anyone under darling’s protection."

Gabriel gasped softly.

"O–Oh! Um—" she stepped forward instinctively, hands clasped in front of her chest, wings fluttering in nervous reflex. "Excuse me, Mr. Ares, sir? I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You see, Eris is just a child, and Grandnephew Dominic is very nice, and—"

"Gabriel," Selene whispered loudly, tugging on the archangel’s sleeve, eyes sparkling with unholy excitement. "This is totally a boss fight setup. Don’t interrupt the cutscene."

"Oh!" Gabriel squeaked. "S–Sorry!"

Ares stared.

Then laughed.

Not mockingly.

Genuinely.

"Hahaha—wow. This city really is something else these days." He clapped his hands once, delighted. "An archangel apologizing mid-standoff, a vampire queen posturing, and a demon sovereign declaring custody over a walking divine anomaly."

His eyes slid back to me.

"And you," he added, voice lowering just a touch, "telling a war god ’no’ like you’re cancelling a dinner reservation."

The fog around his feet thickened, warping light. His presence sharpened—not exploding, not surging—but aligning, like a blade finally seated in its sheath.

"I admire the spine," Ares continued. "Truly. But you’re misunderstanding something important."

He pointed upward lazily.

"This isn’t a request."

The air screamed.

Not audibly—no shockwave, no roar—but every being with even a shred of supernatural perception felt it. The streetlights flickered. Gravity tilted by a hair. Somewhere, far away, a pigeon fell out of the sky mid-flight.

Ravvy whimpered, clutching my coat tighter.

Ezravia’s pupils constricted, envy-tinged mana coiling instinctively around her fingers. Valeria’s playful grin faded into something sharper, pink hair lifting as her aura bled out unconsciously.

Carmilla did not move.

Zeraphira did.

Her clothes burned away—not consumed, but reforged.

Zeraphira’s casual attire unravelled into threads of molten light that wrapped around her form, solidifying into elegant, ruthless battle armour. Crimson metal traced with infernal sigils hugged her frame; wing-guards flared at her shoulders like sharpened crests. Her demonic wings unfurled fully, blotting out the streetlights behind her as heat rolled outward in disciplined waves.

This was not rage.

This was a commander stepping onto the field.

"I will say this once," Zeraphira declared, her voice resonating with Hell’s authority rather than raw power. "You will not take the child. Not today. Not ever."

Ares’ eyes shone brighter.

"Ohhh," he breathed, delighted. "There it is."

The fog around his boots thickened further, crawling up his calves like eager smoke. The street seemed to bend toward him—not pulled, but inclined, as though conflict itself had leaned closer.

"You demons always do this," Ares continued casually. "Draw lines. Claim territory. Pretend rules matter when gods show up."

He cracked his neck once.

"But I didn’t come here to debate."

The instant the words left his mouth—

BOOM.

Zeraphira vanished.

Not stepped.

Not dashed.

Erased from where she stood.

The pavement detonated beneath her feet as she reappeared midair, a jagged halberd larger than her own body, overhead, ready to bring down destruction as flames licked her form.

The halberd fell.

Not swung.

FELL.

A vertical line of annihilation cleaved the air as Zeraphira brought the weapon down with absolute intent, demonic sigils along the blade igniting like molten runes. Heat compressed. Space screamed. The street below warped as if reality itself tried—and failed—to get out of the way.

Ares grinned.

And stepped into it. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The halberd struck.

—or it should have.

Instead, Ares’ right hand snapped up, fingers closing around the descending blade with casual precision.

CLANG.

The sound was wrong.

Too clean. Too sharp. Like two concepts colliding rather than metal.

A shockwave erupted outward, pulverising asphalt into vapour and shattering every window within a three-block radius. Cars lifted off the ground, spinning end over end before slamming back down like discarded toys.

The tofu restaurant behind us ceased to exist.

Just—gone.

Steam, debris, and warped air flooded the street.

Ravvy screamed.

I moved without thinking.

I twisted, yanking Ravvy fully behind me, one arm sweeping Eris tight against my side. Armament Core surged—not explosively, not outward—but inward, condensing along my bones, skin hardening with a muted silver sheen.

The shockwave hit.

BOOOOM—

I slid back half a step, boots carving twin trenches through the pavement, coat snapping violently behind me.

But it didn’t break through.

Behind me, Ezravia raised a barrier of shimmering violet mana, layering it instinctively over Valeria and Selene. The shield cracked instantly—but slowed the impact enough that Selene only tumbled backwards instead of being atomised.

Gabriel shrieked.

"O–Oh no no no—!" Her wings flared wide as she threw herself forward, golden light bursting outward. "Please stop! Violence is not—!"

Ares’ head turned mid-clash.

His eyes flicked to Gabriel.

"Oh. You’re still here."

He exhaled.

A pressure wave—not a strike, not an attack—dismissal—rolled out from him.

Gabriel froze mid-air.

Not restrained.

Pinned.

Her wings locked as if reality itself had decided she was no longer allowed to move.

"Stay out of this, little light," Ares said mildly. "This part isn’t for you."

Zeraphira snarled.

The halberd pushed.

Fire erupted along the blade, infernal heat flaring to catastrophic levels as Zeraphira twisted mid-air, pouring more hellfire into the strike. The sigils on her armour burned brighter, lines of molten crimson racing across her form.

"You do not get to decide that!" she roared.

Ares’ boots slid half an inch.

His grin widened.

"Good," he said approvingly. "You’re serious."

He twisted his wrist.

CRACK—

The halberd snapped sideways as if struck by an invisible hammer. Zeraphira flung backwards through three parked cars, metal screaming as she ploughed through them and embedded herself into the side of a brick building.

The structure shuddered.

Then held.

Barely.

Carmilla moved.

She didn’t leap.

She didn’t charge.

She simply vanished.

The air where she stood collapsed inward as Carmilla reappeared behind Ares, crimson eyes blazing. Her hand passed through his shadow—not grabbing flesh, but seizing the concept of it.

Ancient blood arts ignited.

"Sanguis Imperium—Kneel."

Reality buckled.

Ares stiffened.

For the first time—

His grin faltered.

Veins of dark red light spread from Carmilla’s grasp, lacing up Ares’ arm like parasitic veins, ancient vampiric authority asserting itself over blood that had tasted battle since before human history.

The street groaned.

Gravity inverted for a fraction of a second.

Ares’ knee dipped.

Just a little.

"Oh," he murmured, genuinely impressed. "That’s... new."

He flexed.

War answered.

A thunderous heartbeat echoed—not from his chest, but from everywhere. The crimson veins shattered, Carmilla hurled backwards as if struck by a charging god, her body twisting mid-air before slamming gracefully—but hard—into the street, cracking the pavement beneath her.

She rose immediately.

Unhurt.

Unsmiling.

"Not new," Carmilla said coldly. "Forgotten."

Zeraphira tore herself free from the building, wings flaring as she rejoined the air, armour cracked but reforming, molten lines sealing themselves shut.

Ezravia clenched her fists.

"This is escalating beyond acceptable parameters," she said tightly, envy mana spiralling violently around her. "Dominic—"

"I know," I said.

My voice surprised even me.

Calm.

Too calm.

My Observation Grid was screaming—not warnings, not danger—but possibility. Lines of causality branching wildly, overlapping futures flickering at the edge of perception.

This wasn’t a fight we won by force.

Not like this.

Ares rolled his shoulders.

"Now this," he said happily, spreading his arms as chaos churned around him, "is why I showed up in person."

His gaze snapped to me.

"Still saying no?"

I stepped forward.

Conqueror’s Will coiled around my entire being and... sprung.

BOOOOM—

It didn’t sound.

It wasn’t light.

It was presence.

My Conqueror’s Will tore free without restraint, without polish, without theatrics. It didn’t explode outward like Zeraphira’s hellfire or crash like Carmilla’s blood authority.

It descended.

The world... bowed.

Not physically. Not yet.

But something older than matter—older than divinity—recognized intent and hesitated.

The fog Ares had spread froze mid-crawl.

Streetlights dimmed, then went out entirely.

The air thickened, compressing around my body as if reality itself had decided to brace for impact.

Ravvy gasped.

Ezravia’s barrier shattered outright—not from damage, but from rejection. The mana simply... refused to exist under the pressure.

Valeria staggered back a step, eyes wide, pupils dilated—not with lust this time, but shock. "O–Okay," she muttered. "That’s new."

Selene squealed, thrilled. "OH MY GOD, HE PRESSED THE ULT BUTTON—!"

Zeraphira froze mid-air.

Carmilla’s eyes widened—just a fraction.

Ares—

Ares’ grin vanished.

Not replaced by fear.

Replaced by focus.

The war god straightened slowly, boots grinding into the asphalt as hairline fractures spread beneath his feet like a spiderweb. His fog burned away on contact with my will, evaporating into nothingness.

"...Ah," he said quietly.

For the first time since he arrived, Ares did not sound amused.

He sounded awake.

"That’s not demonic," he continued, eyes narrowing as they locked fully onto me now. Not sliding past. Not distracted. "Not angelic either."

The pressure intensified.

Cars down the street crumpled inward like soda cans. Glass melted rather than shattered. Somewhere, an unseen enchantment screamed and unravelled.

Eris whimpered softly.

I felt it immediately.

The pressure recoiled—instantly—collapsing inward, folding back around me like a sheath snapping into place.

The street exhaled.

I looked down, adjusting my hold on her, one hand resting firmly at her back.

"It’s alright," I murmured. "I’ve got you."

Her wings relaxed.

Golden eyes never left Ares.

Ares watched the exchange in silence.

Then—slowly—he rolled his neck once, like a warrior shaking off stiffness.

"...You’re dangerous," he said, almost thoughtfully. "Not because of strength. Plenty of idiots swing bigger hammers."

His gaze sharpened.

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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