My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Two weeks had passed since Vergil went with his mother to the colossal coliseum built on the mountain that he had split in two during training with Sapphire. The structure, imposing and grand, was now the stage for something much greater: the complete reconstruction of Vergil's very being.

"Definitely... you surpassed all the expectations I could have had for you," Felicia admitted, wiping the sweat from her brow while panting. Even with all her power and experience, she was exhausted.

When she decided to forge a new instinct for Vergil, Felicia knew it would be a tough task, but she never imagined it would be so... peculiar.

She structured the training into two distinct layers: defensive and offensive, each serving an essential purpose in the transformation process.

The defensive layer focused on understanding and controlling Vergil's body. It wasn't just about avoiding damage; it was about creating a natural danger sensor, a skill that would allow him to move with pure instinct, fighting fluidly and intuitively, without exposing himself unnecessarily.

The biggest challenge, however, was something unique to Vergil: the fact that his body and soul were one entity. While it was an unprecedented advantage, it also carried immeasurable risks. Absolute control over his body was crucial to preventing his energy, which seemed infinite, from becoming a purposeless destructive force.

Felicia emphasized that Vergil's defense shouldn't be passive but adaptive. Every blow he received should be absorbed and returned, transforming the impact energy into usable force. It was a deep, instinctive understanding of every cell, muscle, and fiber in his body—the ability to adapt in real-time to any threat.

"Without control, even the most devastating power is useless," she would repeat endlessly during training, testing his limits with ruthless attacks.

If defense was the foundation, offense would be the blade. The offensive layer trained Vergil to use everything at his disposal as a weapon—every inch of his body, every slight movement, every particle of energy. Felicia taught him to channel his raw power into precise and devastating strikes.

"It's not just about strength," she explained. "It's about control. The greatest attack is the one that eliminates the enemy before they even perceive the danger."

Through brutal training, Vergil was forced to use his body as an extension of his will, refining his movements until every action became lethal. There was no room for wasted energy; every strike, every step, every breath needed to be perfect.

Felicia made him fight against magical constructs of increasing complexity, each designed to exploit his weaknesses. He faced illusory attacks that tested his reflexes, energy labyrinths that confused his senses, and direct battles against Felicia herself, who, despite being his mother, showed no mercy in defeating him.

Vergil was now on the brink of something extraordinary. Felicia didn't just want him to be strong; she wanted him to transcend the limits of existence itself, fusing defense and offense into a single, fluid, instinctive entity.

"What we are creating here, Vergil," Felicia once said, as he stood up from the dust-covered floor, "is not just a warrior. It's a living weapon. A being who understands their own body and power so perfectly that every movement is absolute."

Vergil looked at her, his eyes glowing with determination. The pain and effort of the past weeks had only strengthened his resolve.

"A living weapon, huh?" he replied with a wry smile. "So, when we're done, do you think I'll finally be able to beat you?"

Felicia laughed, a rare and almost warm sound. "I wouldn't be so optimistic. But you'll certainly give me a run for my money."

The training continued relentlessly, and the coliseum felt like a living forge, reverberating with the echoes of power explosions that tore through the air and shook the surrounding mountains. Every strike, every wave of energy, was a hammer falling on Vergil, relentlessly shaping him into something that transcended both the human and the demonic.

Yet, the limit seemed to be approaching.

"Ugh..." Vergil murmured, his body collapsing to the stone floor of the coliseum. He was exhausted, completely shattered. There was no rest, no truce. He was a piece of raw metal under the relentless hammer of Felicia, being heated, struck, bent, and cooled repeatedly, until he reached a fusion point with his own essence.

Vergil's body was broken beyond what any mortal being could endure. But he was not mortal. Like animals that evolve to survive in an unforgiving environment, Vergil began to adapt, instinctively.

While lying motionless, as if life had abandoned his body, something changed.

All the blood he had shed during the weeks of training began to move. Slowly, but with terrifying determination, the blood crawled across the ground as if it had its own will, and returned to Vergil's body, reuniting with him.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Felicia, who was watching from above, looked on with a glint of interest in her eyes.

"It's true... I forgot..." she muttered, tightening her grip on the hilt of the sword resting on her shoulder. "I forgot that you carry the damned four bloodlines... and, above all, the Baal bloodline."

She saw Vergil's body begin to pulse with energy. Every fiber, every cell seemed to be in a state of controlled mutation, adapting to the extreme conditions. The air around him became heavy, vibrant, as if the world itself was reacting to the transformation.

Then his eyes opened.

Experience tales at empire

Vergil's gaze was no longer the same. It was something beyond human, beyond demon. His eyes burned like live coals, radiating an ancient and uncontrollable power. He stood up slowly, each movement charged with an overwhelming force.

"A few weeks..." Felicia commented, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and surprise. "And your body is already capable of reaching that form..."

ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The roar that emerged from Vergil was not human. It wasn't something that belonged to the mortal world. It reverberated through the coliseum, making the walls shake and launching waves of energy that shattered the ground around them. The demonic scream was the sound of pure ascension, a declaration to the world that Vergil was no longer an ordinary creature.

Felicia, even though she was used to extreme situations, felt the impact of the power emanating from Vergil. She narrowed her eyes to better observe his transformation. Vergil's body seemed denser, stronger, as if every muscle had been sculpted by the energy flowing through him.

Then something unusual happened.

Felicia felt a wave of heat run through her body. She blinked, trying to concentrate, but her face flushed slightly.

"I got wet..." she muttered to herself, slightly embarrassed, as her hand instinctively touched her crotch over her clothes. Even with the layers she was wearing, she could feel the wetness forming.

"I'm so horny..." She said aloud... and glanced at Vergil... "HAHAHAHAHA! SHE WAS RIGHT! YOU CAN'T RESIST! BEING A BATTLE FREAK IS MY BEING!" Felicia shouted as the force limiters began to break down one by one.

"YOU WILL TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!" she shouted, attacking him with all her might.