My Wives are Beautiful Demons

"It's impossible to ignore..." Katharina murmured, her body trembling slightly as her eyes remained fixed in the direction of the coliseum. "They've started, but… why do I feel so weak?" she questioned, the frustration evident in her voice.

"There's not much we can do in a situation like this," Ada replied with a sigh, shrugging. Despite her attempt to appear calm, her pale face betrayed her. "Just wait…"

Every so often, both of them shuddered, feeling the impact of the auras clashing violently in the coliseum. It was as if the air around them grew heavier, making it hard even to breathe.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"How about we head to the human world?" Roxanne interrupted, trying to break the tension lingering in the air. "We could take Alice shopping. She needs human clothes… she can't keep wearing Victorian gothic dresses all the time." Her tone carried a hint of humor, but her eyes revealed that she too was trying to ignore the chaos.

Katharina blinked, tearing her gaze from the coliseum to look at Roxanne. "Yeah… that's a good idea," she admitted with a sigh, finally allowing some of the tension in her shoulders to release. "At least someone needs a distraction."

"It's been a while since we last went shopping together, hasn't it?" Ada added, attempting to sound enthusiastic but with a distant look in her eyes.

"Yeah… I think it's been a few months," Katharina replied, a faint smile crossing her lips.

"Then… like the old times?" Roxanne suggested, an excited spark flashing in her eyes as she tried to lift the group's spirits.

"Like the old times," Katharina and Ada agreed almost in unison.

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[No-Name Bar]

The door creaked open slowly, the sound of the hinges enough to draw the attention of everyone inside. A tall man, standing nearly two meters, stepped into the dimly lit bar. His presence was commanding, with a physique so defined that it was evident even under his simple attire: black jeans, a high-neck black shirt, and a necklace adorned with sharp, fang-like teeth.

His messy black hair framed a face that carried a look of perpetual boredom and disdain, as if the world around him barely deserved his notice. Piercing blue eyes, reminiscent of a calm sea, seemed to see through everyone in the room. His body was marked with black, stripe-like tattoos in patterns that gave off an almost tribal vibe, interspersed with scars that told stories of battles long past.

"Oh, you're here, Ethan," a female voice called out, breaking the brief silence. A woman with curly hair, amethyst-like eyes, and a cigarette lazily perched between her fingers leaned against the wall, observing him. A provocative smirk curled her lips as she exhaled a slow stream of smoke.

Ethan offered a fleeting smile, revealing two sharp, white fangs. "How are you feeling? I hope you didn't come here to… stir up trouble over your little brother," she teased, her tone laced with playful mockery.

Ethan replied in a cold tone, pulling out a chair and sitting at the bar. "Ah, yes… my little brother, who was nearly killed by some random demon," he said, savoring the bitterness in his words.

"Don't make too much noise, Ethan," the woman warned, the smirk never leaving her face as she sauntered away.

"Sure, old witch, sure," he muttered under his breath, turning to the troll bartender. "As if I'd make noise," he added, his irritation evident.

The woman paused at the doorway, clearly catching the jab. Without even glancing back, she responded with a restrained laugh, "Yes, you do." Then she left, leaving Ethan rolling his eyes.

"Is Ranni here?" Ethan asked the troll behind the counter, gesturing for a strong drink.

The troll gave him a disdainful look as he wiped the bar with a grimy rag. "For you? Probably not," he replied, a malicious grin stretching over his tusks.

Ethan let out a long sigh, closing his eyes as if summoning every ounce of patience he had. He grabbed the drink the troll had poured without asking and stared at the amber liquid. "Great," he muttered, swirling the glass in his hand before taking a sip, his irritation still simmering beneath the surface.

Then, he raised his voice, addressing someone unseen. "Hey, Ranni," he began, his tone sharp with restrained frustration and carrying an undercurrent of veiled threat. "Do you want me to tear this entire bar apart?" He paused, taking another sip of the whiskey as though the burn was less painful than his growing annoyance.

Ethan placed the glass on the counter with a soft clink and looked up at the ceiling, clearly addressing the person in question. "We're talking. Now," he commanded, his voice reverberating through the room, plunging the bar into an uncomfortable silence. Enjoy new tales from empire

"Ethan, you're ban—" the troll began, but his words were cut off as he felt Ethan's murderous intent radiating in waves. The aura of an Alpha was unlike that of a beta... and now he was experiencing the primal fear of being easy prey.

"S-She's upstairs," the troll stammered, quickly pressing a button to open a concealed door.

Ethan didn't spare the troll a glance, his piercing eyes locked onto the secret doorway as it began to creak open. The oppressive killing intent around him seemed to devour the atmosphere, like a ravenous beast provoked to its limit. The troll, now drenched in sweat, took a step back, every fiber of his instincts screaming to avoid crossing Ethan's path again.

"Thanks," Ethan said, his voice low and sharp as a blade, before rising from his seat. The scraping sound of the chair against the floor echoed like a warning to everyone still in the bar. He casually adjusted the fang necklace around his neck with a fluid yet intimidating motion, then strode toward the staircase leading upstairs.

The troll exhaled deeply, trying to steady his trembling hands and regain control of his breathing. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he muttered to himself, "I need to retire... live a quiet life in the forest, far away from this madness. This job is definitely not for me."

He turned to the communicator mounted on the wall and pressed the button with a hesitant touch. "Boss, the problem is all yours now," he announced, his voice still tinged with unease.

From the other end, a sharp, irritated female voice responded almost immediately. "What now?"

"The werewolf you hate… he's on his way up," the troll replied, glancing toward the door leading to the upper floor with a look of pity.

"WHAT?! And why the hell did you let him through?" the voice snapped, seething with indignation.

The troll grimaced at the communicator and replied in a defensive tone, "Do you want to lose the bar? Because if I'd stopped him, neither me nor this place would still be in one piece right now."

A long pause followed on the other end, and when the voice returned, it was quieter but brimming with frustration. "…Fine."

"Exactly. Think about that," the troll muttered, cutting off the call with a final tap before grumbling to himself, "I'm paid to pour drinks, not to play bodyguard for suicidal people."