My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Chapter 796: Vergil and Metatron are good friends.

The infinite white remained silent for a few seconds after Vergil’s words faded into the conceptual void of that reserved space. There was no wind, echo, or any ambient noise there. Only presence. Only thought. The kind of place where even emotions seemed sharper than they should be.Metatron stood motionless before him, his long, light hair floating gently like threads of light suspended in invisible water. His multiple halos swirled slowly behind his head, emitting delicate luminous patterns reminiscent of celestial gears in constant calculation. The supreme scribe did not avert his gaze once while Vergil spoke of Lucy. In fact, he seemed to listen with a dangerously genuine interest.

In the distance, still visible in that strange white space, Lucy remained seated on the materialized sofa, completely absorbed in her coloring book. The contrast was almost absurd. While two beings capable of altering cosmic structures discussed the nature of her existence, the girl colored a crooked dragon using three different shades of gold.

Metatron finally moved his eyes towards her. His gaze shifted immediately.

Before, he had observed Lucy with casual curiosity, like someone analyzing a rare phenomenon. Now, there was real depth to his attention. The soft runes that discreetly orbited her halos began to spin faster, rearranging symbols into complex patterns. It was evident that he was analyzing something beyond physical matter.

Vergil noticed.

"Are you seeing something?"

Metatron didn’t answer immediately.

He continued observing Lucy for long seconds while the girl murmured softly to herself about which pencil best matched "happy wings." Small golden fragments involuntarily appeared around her whenever she laughed, luminous particles that disappeared too quickly for a mortal to notice.

But Metatron noticed.

And that clearly bothered him.

The scribe tilted his head slightly to the side, like someone trying to solve an impossible calculation.

"Interesting..."

Vergil crossed his arms.

"That’s not a comforting word."

"It’s not a negative word either." Metatron narrowed his eyes gently. "Her existence... is strange."

"I noticed."

"No, Vergil." For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Metatron seemed genuinely intrigued. "Strange to me."

This elicited a brief silence from the Demon King.

Because there was a gigantic difference between "something unusual" and "something Metatron can’t immediately categorize."

Eden itself revolved around absolute records. Metatron was, essentially, an entity tied to the conceptual organization of creation. If even he demonstrated difficulty in understanding Lucy, then the problem was much bigger than Vergil expected.

Metatron slowly raised one hand.

Delicate runes appeared around his fingers, white and gold symbols that seemed made of condensed logic. They weren’t aggressive. Nor invasive. Just observant.

The runes swirled gently in Lucy’s direction. The girl blinked as small lights began to orbit around her head.

"Oh! Little fireflies!"

She tried to catch one.

The rune immediately dodged.

Lucy was offended.

"It ran away from me."

Vergil watched the scene in silence while Metatron continued analyzing.

Then the scribe finally sighed.

And shook his head.

"I don’t fully understand either."

Vergil raised an eyebrow.

"That coming from you is worrying."

"I agree." Metatron slowly lowered his hand, making the runes disappear into thin air. "But some conclusions are possible."

Vergil waited.

Metatron turned his lilac eyes to Lucy once more.

"She is clearly a divine being."

The silence between them grew heavier.

Vergil didn’t outwardly show exaggerated surprise, but his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Divine."

"Yes." Metatron nodded calmly. "That’s not debatable. Her spiritual structure possesses inherently superior properties. There’s no dominant demonic corruption. No infernal decay. Not even the typical instability of hybrids."

Vergil remained silent.

Metatron continued slowly, carefully choosing his words.

"But there is a problem."

"Of course there is."

"I don’t know exactly what she is within the divine category."

Vergil uncrossed his arms.

"Explain."

Metatron walked a few steps slowly in that white void, like someone organizing extremely delicate thoughts.

"There are ordinary divine beings. Angels, higher spirits, entities linked to creation, conceptual manifestations, direct descendants of sacred forces..." He closed his eyes briefly. "Lucy doesn’t fit perfectly into any of those classifications."

"And where does she fit in?"

"Perhaps..." Metatron hesitated for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. "...an entity."

Vergil stood still.

The word wasn’t spoken casually.

Entities weren’t simply powerful creatures. Nor minor gods. Nor ancient beings.

An entity was something whose existence transcended normal categories of race and function.

Something that didn’t need to "belong" to a species.

Something that simply existed as a living concept.

Vergil let out a small sigh through his nose.

"Wonderful."

Metatron almost smiled.

"You seem less excited than I imagined."

"Because entities usually come accompanied by dimensional catastrophes, religious wars, or metaphysical collapses."

"Fair point."

Lucy suddenly raised her hand.

"Can I draw a cat with a sword?"

They both looked at her.

Vergil replied immediately:

"Of course." "Thank you!"

She happily returned to her normal coloring, completely oblivious to the fact that her existence had just been classified as potentially a cosmic problem.

Metatron observed this for a few seconds before continuing.

"The strangest thing isn’t just her structure." His voice became lower, more analytical. "It’s the contradiction."

Vergil looked directly at him.

"What contradiction?"

Metatron closed his eyes for a moment.

"I feel the sin of pride emanating from her."

Vergil didn’t react immediately.

But the air around him seemed to grow heavier.

Metatron continued:

"Not symbolically. Not as a personality. I literally feel the conceptual signature of pride surrounding her soul." His halos slowed slightly. "It’s an ancient presence. Superior. Absolute."

Vergil remained silent.

Then Metatron opened his eyes again.

"But her aura says exactly the opposite."

Vergil frowned slightly.

"Opposite?"

"Lucy doesn’t exude spiritual arrogance." Metatron seemed genuinely bothered by the inconsistency. "She doesn’t possess egocentric dominance over her environment. There’s no conceptual narcissism. There’s no imposition of existential superiority."

He looked at the girl again.

Lucy was busy drawing a golden cat holding a disproportionately large sword.

"She seems... kind."

Vergil made a small noise of agreement.

"She is."

Metatron narrowed his eyes.

"And that doesn’t make sense."

Vergil finally looked away for a few seconds.

When he spoke again, his voice was lower.

"Lucy was born from Lucifer’s soul."

Metatron stood still.

For the first time since the beginning of that conversation, his expression lost some of its perfect composure.

Vergil continued:

"When his soul was destroyed, fragments remained scattered." He closed his eyes briefly, as if recalling an extremely complicated process. "It was rebuilt. Reorganized."

Metatron remained completely silent.

"...Lucy was born from that."

The halos behind Metatron’s head slowed almost to a standstill.

Then he finally nodded slowly.

"That explains a lot."

Vergil observed his reaction carefully.

"Explain."

Metatron sighed softly.

"Lucifer wasn’t just a powerful fallen angel." His voice became more distant, almost contemplative. "He was the absolute representative of a concept."

Vergil remained attentive.

"The Sin of Pride isn’t just vanity." Metatron began to walk slowly through the white void as he spoke. "It’s individuality elevated to the extreme. It’s the absolute belief in one’s own existence above all other things."

He raised his eyes.

"Lucifer was pride because he believed he could exist above order without ceasing to be perfect."

Vergil listened in silence.

"When an entity of that level is fragmented..." Metatron continued slowly. "...the pieces don’t behave like normal soul fragments."

Vergil immediately understood what that meant.

"They retain conceptual properties."

"Exactly."

Metatron turned his eyes to Lucy.

"The girl inherited part of the primordial signature linked to pride." His fingers moved slowly in the air as small runes reappeared around them. "But apparently... without inheriting the emotional corruption that normally accompanies that concept."

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

"So she’s not Lucifer."

"No." Metatron replied immediately. "Definitely not."

That seemed to relieve something invisible within Vergil.

Metatron noticed.

"You were worried about that."

Vergil was silent for a second.

"...Yes."

Because that was the question he never verbalized.

No matter how much Lucy smiled, joked, or seemed innocent... there was always the fear hidden deep in his mind.

What if she wasn’t really a child?

What if it was just Lucifer slowly rebuilding himself?

Metatron seemed to understand that thought exactly.

"Lucy possesses traits derived from Lucifer." His voice came out firm and absolute. "But she is not a continuation of his consciousness."

Vergil slowly exhaled through his nose.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Metatron nodded calmly. "Her emotional structure is too genuine. Lucifer would never spontaneously produce that kind of innocence."

Lucy suddenly held up the drawing.

"Look! The cat got a crown!"

They both looked.

The cat really did have a crown now.

And also a sword bigger than its own body.

Vergil observed for two seconds.

"He looks authoritative."

"He’s king!"

Metatron let out a low laugh.

Then his gaze became serious again.

"But there’s another problem."

Vergil immediately lost what little tranquility he had recently acquired.

"Of course there is."

"If Lucy was truly born from the fragmented reconstruction of a primordial soul like Lucifer’s..." Metatron slowly intertwined his fingers. "...then she can evolve."

Vergil stood motionless.

"Evolve how?"

"I don’t know."

The sincerity of that answer was worse than any explanation. Metatron rarely said "I don’t know."

"She may remain exactly like this forever." The scribe continued calmly. "Or she may develop properties increasingly closer to a superior conceptual entity."

Vergil observed Lucy silently.

The girl was now trying to balance three pencils between her fingers while drinking hot chocolate at the same time.

"...She can barely hold the pencils properly."

"Entities don’t necessarily start out grand." Metatron tilted his head slightly. "Some start out small."

That didn’t help at all.

Vergil discreetly massaged his forehead.

"So, in short." His voice came out dry. "My daughter may be a conceptual divine entity born from the fragments of the soul of the Sin of Pride."

"In short? Yes."

"Excellent."

Metatron almost smiled again.

"You handle absurd revelations surprisingly well."

Vergil gave him a dead stare.

"Inside, I’m extremely annoyed."

"Understandable."

Lucy then suddenly raised her face.

"May I draw you?"

Metatron blinked slowly.

"Me?"

"You’re handsome." She pointed the pencil at his halos. "And you look expensive."

The silence lasted exactly two seconds before Vergil let out a low chuckle through his nose.

Metatron elegantly brought his hand to his face.

"...I don’t know how to respond to that."

"It’s normal." Vergil slowly regained his composure. "She also said that about a dragon."

Lucy nodded immediately.

"You look more expensive than the dragon."

Metatron remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he sighed.

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

The white room sank back into a comfortable silence after Lucy’s last remark. The girl had already resumed her important artistic mission, completely focused on deciding whether Metatron’s drawing needed more gold or more "expensive glitter," whatever that meant in her childish logic.

Vergil remained observing for a few seconds.

There was something strangely peaceful about that scene. Lucy drawing calmly, Metatron allowing it with an almost absurd serenity, and the white void around them acting as a temporary interval between cosmic catastrophes. Considering the recent history involving floods, angelic threats, and divine runes rewriting metaphysical laws, it was dangerously close to being relaxing.

Metatron noticed the brief contemplative silence coming from him.

"You’re overthinking."

Vergil let out a small sigh through his nose.

"Professionally unavoidable."

Lucy raised her little hand without taking her eyes off the drawing.

"I think little."

"Yes," Vergil replied immediately. "And that clearly improves your quality of life."

She nodded with absolute conviction.

"It’s great."

Metatron observed the two for a few seconds before gently resting one hand on the arm of the chair. His halos slowly rotated behind his head, projecting golden reflections onto the infinite white around him. Even in that boundless environment, he still seemed perfectly integrated into the space, as if that place had been created specifically to accommodate his presence.

Vergil then looked away from Lucy and turned his attention to the celestial scribe.

"So."

Metatron raised an eyebrow slightly.

"So?"

Vergil crossed his arms slowly.

"May I speak with the Heavenly Father?"

The question hung in the white void without exaggerated dramatization, yet it carried enough weight to alter the atmosphere. It wasn’t a common request. It wasn’t even something most entities would dare to consider.

Direct audiences with the Heavenly Father simply... didn’t happen.

Even among archangels, it was rare.

Metatron, however, showed no surprise.

In fact, he seemed to have expected that question since the moment Vergil entered Eden carrying a mysterious child and threatening to create apocalyptic frogs.

The scribe inclined his head slightly.

"You may."

Vergil blinked once.

Too quick an answer. "Without resistance?"

"You’ve already traversed half of Eden, flooded sacred corridors, emotionally traumatized Michael, and rewritten divine runes in the sky." Metatron spoke calmly. "Denying an audience now would only prolong inevitabilities."

"Fair enough."

Lucy raised her face again.

"What is a Heavenly Father?"

Vergil looked at her for a few seconds.

"...Complicated."

"Ah."

She immediately accepted and went back to drawing.

Metatron observed this with a small, amused glint in his eyes.

"She really simplifies existential problems impressively quickly."

"It’s an enviable skill."

The scribe then slowly uncrossed his legs and raised one hand toward the void beside them.

"As for the girl..." His lilac eyes briefly slid to Lucy. "I can take care of her for a few minutes."

Vergil immediately turned to face him again.

Not aggressively.

But definitely protectively.

Metatron realized this instantly.

"I don’t intend to hurt her."

"I know." Vergil replied calmly. "Still, she remains my responsibility."

That elicited a brief silence from the celestial scribe.

Because Vergil hadn’t said it as a diplomatic obligation. Nor as someone merely assuming temporary guardianship.

There was genuine sincerity there.

Metatron then looked at Lucy again.

The girl was now drawing small crowns around the head of "Dear Metatron."

"...Interesting."

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing." Metatron smiled discreetly. "I’m just beginning to understand some things."

Lucy raised a bright blue pencil.

"Handsome young man!"

Metatron sighed softly.

"Yes?"

"Can you make real stars appear?"

Vergil immediately realized his mistake.

Metatron smiled.

Then small luminous points began to appear above her head, tiny stars floating slowly through the white void like celestial fireflies.

Lucy froze.

Her eyes widened.

"OOOOOH."

Vergil closed his eyes for a second.

"You just made the situation much worse."

"Probably."

Lucy immediately began trying to catch the stars with her hands, completely enchanted.

"THEY SHINE!"

"That’s usually the standard behavior of stars," Vergil commented.

Metatron was clearly having more fun than he should.

Vergil observed this for a few seconds before finally sighing and returning to the main subject.

"I really need to talk to him."

Metatron nodded slowly.

"I know."

Then, for the first time since they arrived in that white space, something truly changed around them.

The infinite void vibrated gently.

Not like an earthquake.

More like recognition.

A golden line emerged from nothingness, thin and vertical, shimmering softly on the white horizon. It slowly grew until it formed the outline of a door made entirely of liquid light. There was no doorknob. No hinges. No physical frame. Just a luminous structure pulsing with a presence so vast that even the surrounding silence seemed to recede respectfully.

Vergil observed the door in complete silence.

Even for him... that was too much.

There was no overwhelming pressure.

No hostility.

What existed there was something worse for any powerful creature: absolute authority without the need for demonstration.

It was like looking at a concept that never needed to prove its superiority because reality itself already accepted it as truth.

Metatron turned his eyes to the door.

"He’s waiting."

Vergil remained motionless for a moment.

"...Beyond that door?"

"Yes."

Lucy finally noticed the new luminous presence in the room and immediately pointed to it.

"Shining door!"

"Correct observation," Vergil replied automatically.

Metatron slowly rose from his chair.

"You may go. I will stay with Lucy while you two talk."

Vergil was still observing the door.

However arrogant, powerful, or absurdly confident he was... it clearly affected him.

Because this wasn’t just a political audience.

Technically...

It was a family conversation.

Metatron understood exactly the thought going through his mind.

"The nervousness is understandable."

Vergil immediately replied:

"I’m not nervous."

"Of course."

"I’m calculating possibilities."

"A sophisticated description for nervousness."

Vergil gave him a dry look.

Metatron elegantly ignored it.

Lucy then gently tugged at the sleeve of Vergil’s coat.

He looked down.

The girl held up the newly finished drawing toward him. The "expensive Metatron" now possessed eight additional wings, an absurd sword, and a bright crown drawn crookedly above the halos.

"Is it beautiful?"

Vergil observed the drawing for two seconds.

"Frighteningly expensive."

Lucy grinned widely, pleased with the approval.

Then she tilted her head.

"Are you coming back?"

The question came out simply.

Small.

Childish.

But the white void seemed to silently listen to the answer.

Vergil knelt slightly before her and placed his hand on her head once more.

"Of course."

Lucy nodded immediately, accepting it without the slightest doubt.

Because for her, if Vergil said something, then it would simply happen.

Metatron observed the scene in silence.

And for the first time since the beginning of that meeting... he began to suspect that the greatest mystery there might not be Lucy’s origin.

Perhaps it was Vergil.