My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses-Chapter 151 - No. The Rewards Are Finally Here! (1)

Chapter 151: Chapter No.151 The Rewards Are Finally Here! (1)

[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]

Grayfia was stunned by seeing the number of people returning being more than the ones left. Especially three more fiancées appeared, but just when she was going to question—

She saw me being carried by Zeraphira and my condition,

Grayfia stopped.

Not figuratively.

She halted—one foot forward, hand half-raised, breath caught somewhere between inhale and annihilation.

For a heartbeat, the Morningstar Manor itself seemed to freeze with her.

The grand foyer lights flickered faintly as ancient wards reacted to her emotional spike. Mana pressure rippled outward like a silent shockwave, bending curtains, rattling chandeliers, and making Selene’s hat slide halfway off her head.

She literally snatched me from Zeraphira before she could even finish a single step.

Grayfia’s arms wrapped around me with terrifying gentleness.

One moment I was supported by Zeraphira’s armoured strength, the next I was gone—lifted, turned, and pulled into a familiar, freezing-cold embrace that smelled faintly of frost lilies and old mana.

"—Master!"

Grayfia’s voice cracked.

It was not loud.

It was not dramatic.

But every single person in the foyer felt it like a blade sliding between their ribs.

Her silver eyes swept over me with ruthless precision—blood-soaked clothes, fractured ribs barely held together by residual mana, soul-fatigue clinging like ash. Her grip tightened just enough to steady me, never enough to hurt.

"Who," she asked softly, dangerously, "did this?"

Zeraphira straightened instantly. "It was a divine confrontation. Ares—"

Grayfia’s aura flared.

The temperature in the manor dropped several degrees in a blink. Frost traced the marble floor in branching sigils before stopping just short of crystallisation.

"A god," Grayfia said. Not a question.

I exhaled weakly. "Not... the whole story."

Her gaze snapped back to me. "You will not speak," she said immediately. "You will breathe."

"I am breathing," I muttered.

"Incorrect," she replied flatly. "You are surviving."

She turned, already moving, carrying me with practiced ease as if my broken state weighed nothing at all.

"Selene," Grayfia said without looking. "Prepare the sanctum. Full isolation. No scrying, no observation layers. Triple-seal."

Selene saluted with both hands. "Roger! Anti-peeper protocols engaged! Also—welcome home, everyone!"

She vanished in a puff of violet smoke and glitter that definitely did not belong in a serious demonic manor.

Grayfia continued forward.

The others followed instinctively.

Valeria hesitated, eyes lingering on my face, something sharp and unreadable flickering behind her usual playful mask.

Ezravia said nothing, but her envy mana twisted tighter, folding inward as if swallowing questions whole.

Ravvy stayed close—always close—tiny fingers clutching her skirt like a lifeline.

Gabriel hovered at the edge of the group, hands folded nervously, wings twitching as she looked between Grayfia and me with wide, worried eyes.

"I will do my best to heal grandnephew!"

Grayfia did not slow.

She crossed the manor like a silver storm given shape—doors opening before her without touch, corridors bending subtly to shorten the path, ancient wards recognising their true mistress and yielding without question.

The sanctum doors sealed the moment she entered.

Thunk.

Mana locks engaged.

Click—click—click.

Isolation layers folded over reality itself, severing the space from scrying, divine observation, infernal oversight, and anything foolish enough to try peeking anyway.

Only then did Grayfia lower me.

She laid me carefully onto the obsidian ritual bed at the centre of the sanctum, movements precise enough to shame surgeons. The cold stone should have shocked me.

It didn’t.

Her mana wrapped around me first, insulating, stabilizing, anchoring.

The pain dulled—not gone, but pushed to a distant background hum.

Grayfia straightened slowly.

And then—

She turned.

The temperature dropped again.

Her gaze swept the room, pinning everyone present with surgical intensity.

Zeraphira stood tall, halberd planted, posture rigid with discipline—but her jaw was tight, infernal fire flickering dangerously beneath control.

Valeria leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, smile completely gone. Pink hair framed a face that was sharp, assessing, predatory.

Ezravia stood apart, purple eyes half-lidded, envy mana compressed into a silent spiral around her heart.

Ravvy hovered near the bed, refusing to move more than a step away from me, black hair hiding most of her face.

Gabriel stood stiffly, wings tucked close, hands clasped in front of her chest like she was afraid even breathing too loudly might make things worse.

"I want every single one of you to explain," Grayfia said softly, "why my master returned like this from a simple enough ’date’."

No one spoke.

Not because they lacked words.

Because none of them were certain which words would not get them annihilated.

Zeraphira broke first.

"After leaving the manor, we were strolling around for a bit and had something called ice cream, after which we watched a m-movii called ’Life of P’ something, then we kissed tongue and all—"

"YOU KISSED DARLING!"

Valeria’s outburst detonated like a thrown knife.

Her pink eyes locked onto Zeraphira, pupils narrowing into slits as lust mana flared sharp and hot around her. The air rippled faintly, heat clashing against the residual frost still clinging to the sanctum walls.

"Say that again," Valeria said sweetly. Dangerously. "Slowly."

Zeraphira blinked.

Once.

Then twice.

Her disciplined Wrath instincts screamed threat, but her actual brain lagged half a second behind the emotional landmine she had just stepped on.

"I—ah—clarification required?" Zeraphira said stiffly. "We shared physical contact. Consensual. Mutual. A morale-enhancing—"

Valeria vanished.

Not teleported.

Moved.

She was in front of Zeraphira in less than a blink, finger jabbing into the demoness’ chestplate hard enough to crack infernal alloy.

"YOU FRENCH-KISSED HIM," Valeria hissed, pink mana writhing like silk-lined blades. "BEFORE ME."

Ezravia exhaled slowly.

"Oh," she murmured. "This is going to be messy."

Ravvy whimpered softly and instinctively pressed closer to the bed, small hands clutching the blanket over my chest like she could anchor me to reality through sheer proximity.

Gabriel froze completely, eyes wide, wings stiff, clearly torn between panic, confusion, and the desperate urge to apologize to someone even though she had no idea what was happening.

Selene reappeared in a puff of violet smoke near the ceiling, popcorn bucket in hand.

"Oooo," she whispered loudly. "Inter-fiancée escalation arc."

"SELENE," Grayfia snapped.

Selene yelped. "Serious mode! Sorry! Serious mode engaged!"

She zipped behind a pillar, still watching.

Grayfia raised one hand.

The room obeyed.

Mana pressure slammed down—not violent, not explosive, but absolute. Like gravity suddenly remembering it was a law, not a suggestion.

Valeria froze mid-snarl.

Zeraphira locked in place, halberd trembling faintly as Wrath fought instinct.

Ezravia stilled.

Even Selene’s popcorn froze halfway to her mouth.

Grayfia did not raise her voice.

"Enough," she said.

The word carried weight older than kingdoms.

She turned her gaze back to Zeraphira first. "Explain. Properly."

Zeraphira straightened despite being magically immobilised, pride and discipline overriding embarrassment.

"Ah! Well then, Selene and Gabriel joined us two when Selene suggested going for lunch together. Where darling suddenly said he was going to the restroom, but didn’t return, we waited for five minutes, when suddenly a massive holy energy shockwave came from that tall building, what’s it called again?" Zeraphira looked at Selene.

Selene peeked out from behind the pillar, eyes sparkling despite the pressure pinning her. "Empire State Building! Big, pointy, very photogenic—also terrible for divine smackdowns."

Grayfia’s gaze flicked to her for exactly half a second.

Selene immediately snapped to attention. "—Serious mode."

Zeraphira nodded stiffly and continued. "The holy shockwave originated from there. Immediately after, the sky sealed. A curtain of authority descended. Gods appeared. Ares. Artemis. Zeus."

The name landed heavily.

Grayifa looked ready to murder the entire pantheon just for existing.

Her gaze turned to me again, as I saw the vulnerability in her eyes that I had in my own when she was at death’s door after her fight with the seven satans.

"—Master," Grayfia’s voice trembled slightly now, not with anger but... fear. That subtle fracture in her composure was rare, almost impossible. Her silver eyes searched mine, trying to read every fragment of pain, every faltering heartbeat, every stolen breath.

"I..." I rasped, voice broken but steady enough to carry the weight. "I survived."

Grayfia’s hand tightened around my shoulder. Frost motes traced her grip, winding through the air like spectral serpents, but instead of constriction, they were anchoring. Protecting. Ensuring I would not fall again.

For a long heartbeat, she said nothing. The sanctum itself seemed to wait, holding onto her next words with absolute obedience.

Finally, she spoke, barely above a whisper. "You should not have gone, I-I wasn’t there—"

"Shhh! It’s okay, I’m as fragile as you think, and it’s just surface-level injuries. I’ll be back to full strength by the morning..."," I rasped, forcing a crooked smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "I’m fine. Grayfia... you don’t need to—"

"You are not fine," she cut in sharply, voice trembling on the edge of controlled fury. "You will not speak that lie in my presence." Her silver eyes burned, icy and absolute, locking onto mine like a siege hammer. "Do you hear me? You survived, yes—but not without cost. Every fibre of you, every breath, every heartbeat—you’ve overextended. And I will not allow another soul to witness what I just felt when I took you from Zeraphira."

I swallowed, tasting iron and pain. My chest protested, ribs screaming silently beneath frost-laced fingers. My arms twitched as residual SPIRAL tried to recalibrate my shattered body. "I... I know. I survived because I had to, not because—" My voice cracked, but I pushed through. "Not because I was weak."

Grayfia’s eyes softened fractionally, but the steel beneath them did not waver. "You are alive because you’re strong, master, more than anyone I can measure. But strength alone does not grant survival. Discipline, patience, timing—these are what keep you breathing while the world collapses around you."

Her hands moved with purpose, weaving subtle sigils into the air. Frost spirals danced around my chest, spine, and limbs, repairing, anchoring, fortifying. The sensation was sharp, like needles of cold fire threading through muscle and bone, and yet it hummed with life, steadying me more than any mundane bandage could.

"You overextended into a divine arena," Grayfia continued, her voice a low tremor under absolute control. "Ares, Artemis... Zeus himself bore witness. And still, you walked away. Tell me, Dominic, what did you see there? What... did you feel?"

"I..."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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