CHAPTER 429: MEET PANDORA.

The silence that followed Morgana’s comment was devastating.

The witches, who until then had been oscillating between curiosity, suspicion, and a touch of collective hysteria, now stared at Vergil as if they were facing an eclipse... or a natural disaster about to happen.

"Is he the... new Demon King?" one of them whispered in a faint voice.

"That’s impossible..."

"My God... he’s too hot to be real..."

THUD!

Two witches fell flat on the floor. They fainted in sheer panic, their eyes rolling back, their magic flickering like candles in the wind.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Four others hit the ground for a completely different reason—their legs shaking, their faces flushed, and their breaths labored. The wet, embarrassing sound of their soaked panties accompanied their collective collapse.

"I... I need water," one of them murmured, falling to her knees with her hands over her face.

A third wave of witches turned their faces away with a "Tsk," trying to maintain some dignity... but the furtive glances they cast from the corner of their eyes left no doubt. Curiosity, lust, fear — all mixed together.

Morgana sighed deeply and crossed her arms, squeezing Vergil’s arm a little tighter.

"You’d better watch your language... especially around my future husband, you perverts!" she said with a tone as sharp as a ritual knife.

’Future husband... she’s pretty loose,’ Vergil just smiled, his eyes half-closed. He took a deep breath and let a shadow of magic escape into his aura.

"All right, all right... Since we’re in the mood, why not give them a little of what they want?" he murmured softly.

And then, in a subtle crack of infernal energy, his eyes turned crimson, his horns materialized for an instant—long, black, and flaming with runes. The shadows around them vibrated. A dry heat ran down everyone’s spine.

And then he let out a laugh.

Not just any laugh — an insane, demonic laugh, full of distorted echoes that seemed to come from a thousand mouths at once. Some witches choked. Others trembled. One bit her tongue and fainted.

And then... everything stopped.

Vergil returned to normal, as if nothing had happened, and winked.

"You are funnier than I imagined. Relax. We are family here... right?" he said with a calm smile. But then his voice became deeper, his gaze more intense. "But I hope no one here is selling information about me."

Immediately, all the witches in the square turned—slowly, like puppets controlled by a greater force—to face a figure.

A red-haired, freckled witch swallowed hard. "I-I didn’t do anything!" she said, trembling.

"Not you," they replied in unison.

"...Behind you."

The red-haired witch turned slowly, feeling a chill run up her spine.

And then she saw her.

In the middle of the crowd, in a corner where the light seemed to bend around her, stood an ethereal-looking little girl—skin pale as moon ivory, silver-white hair dancing around her face as if submerged in water. Her eyes, in opalescent tones, reflected lights that did not exist in that world. Vertical pupils. Predatory.

She was surrounded by a translucent aura made of floating crystals, and an albino snake, made of solid light, slithered lazily around her neck like a living necklace. Her slender fingers twirled a magic crystal between them with the casualness of someone twirling a lollipop. Her lips—naturally painted with a color between wine and fresh blood—curved into a lazy smile. Between them, fangs glistened.

"Hmm... I’m getting old," she murmured, her voice sweet and yet full of cynicism. "I see a demon in the heart of the witches’ world. Or maybe I’m just dreaming."

She took a step forward.

Her attire was as mystical as her presence—a magical satin dress with prismatic reflections, covered with ancient symbols that pulsed slowly like a living heart. Gold rings adorned her hair and arms, tinkling with every movement, like bells in a profane temple.

Vergil frowned slightly, watching closely, as if unsure whether this was a child, a trap... or a minor deity.

"And you would be...?"

She clicked her tongue. "Pandora."

The name did not echo—it burst into the air like a magical spark of pure reverberation. The words seemed to carry arcane weight, and immediately several witches paled.

Two took a step back. One of them let out a muffled scream. Another fell to her knees and began to conjure an automatic, almost instinctive protection.

Morgana, until then unshakable, felt her blood run cold.

"P-Pandora...?" she whispered.

Pandora tilted her head with amusement, her smile growing wider and more sadistic.

"Ah... so you’ve heard. How nice. I’ve always hated introductions," she said with feigned courtesy. Her eyes never left Vergil’s.

The tension was palpable. Even the crystals around her seemed to hum with pure, untamed magic. The snake around her neck let out a discreet hiss, as if laughing along with her.

Vergil smiled with the corner of his lips, intrigued.

Morgana, however, remained on high alert.

"She’s dangerous..." she muttered to herself. "Very dangerous."

Pandora just gave her a cheeky wink. "Don’t worry, Morgana. I haven’t decided yet if I want to play or destroy everything. It will depend on his mood."

She pointed the crystal at Vergil as if challenging him... or inviting him to a game whose board only she could see.

The silence that followed Pandora’s name was so thick that it seemed as if the world was holding its breath.

Everyone stared at the small figure with respect... or sheer terror.

And then Vergil broke the moment with the subtlety of a magic sledgehammer:

"...Okay, but... who the hell is Pandora?"

The effect was immediate.

One witch choked on her own spit. Another stumbled and fell on her back. A third simply shouted "WHAT?!" before being silenced by a colleague next to her with a slap on the shoulder.

Pandora blinked slowly. The smile was still there, but now a glimmer of... frustration sparkled behind her eyes.

"Don’t you know who I am?" she asked, with an almost offended tone, like a forgotten goddess being mistaken for a waitress.

Vergil raised an eyebrow and shrugged, completely unconcerned. "No. It seems like everyone here knows you, but... honestly, I just see a child with a snake around her neck and delusions of grandeur."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Some witches were genuinely terrified. Others looked as if they were about to laugh and cry at the same time.

The snake around Pandora’s neck raised its head, staring at Vergil with eyes of pure crystal.

Pandora licked her lips and tilted her head, now amused again.

"Wow... You’ve got guts. Or stupidity. Hard to tell sometimes."

Vergil smiled mischievously. "The difference is in the end result."

Morgana closed her eyes with one hand over her face.

"You just provoked the most unstable and powerful entity after the Queen of Witches... she is a creation of Hephaestus..."

"Ah," he said, still smiling. "So she’s someone important. That explains the light show."

Pandora crossed her arms, her gaze sharp as crystal stilettos.

"Morgana, I’m going to kill him."

Vergil took a step forward, his smile disappearing, replaced by an expression as cold as black marble.

"Oh... is that so?" he said in a low voice, laden with infernal authority, "How about you try then?"

Total silence.

The crystals around Pandora trembled.

The little girl stared at him... and then let out a light, pleasant laugh, like the sound of crystal glasses breaking beautifully.

"Now we’re talking. This is starting to get interesting."

Before anyone could react, the ground beneath Vergil shook with a guttural, ancient roar.

CRAAACK!

The sound came from all sides—from the air, from the earth, from reality itself. And then, without warning, a huge translucent serpent, made of solid light and pulsating runes, burst out from under the square with absurd speed.

"VERGIL!" Morgana screamed, already reaching out her hand, but it was too late.

SCHLAK!

In a single fluid motion, the giant serpent swallowed Vergil whole. Its body coiled around itself in spirals that cut through the air, shattering windows, bending magic power poles, and bringing all the witches to their knees with the weight of the energy released.

A deadly silence fell over the square.

Morgana gasped. The witches were paralyzed. Some began to cry. Others prayed. One of them simply screamed, "HE WAS SO HOT!" before fainting again.

And in the center of it all... Pandora.

She brought a finger to her lips, thoughtful, as if savoring a good dessert.

"Hmm... hellish flavor. Crunchy on the outside, burning on the inside," she said ironically, as the snake writhed slowly, visibly satisfied with its prey.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Morgana shouted, running toward the magical circle of crystals that had formed around the creature. "DID YOU KILL HIM?!"

Pandora looked at her, still smiling, but with a dark gleam in her eyes.

"Of course not. Not yet. I just... wanted to scare you."

At that very moment, the serpent stopped moving. It froze in midair—and then... exploded.

BOOOOM!

Light, shadow, crimson flames, and fragments of demonic energy scattered like a magical bomb. The serpent screamed in a guttural sound that seemed to come from the depths of hell itself, before disintegrating into crystalline smoke.

And at the center of the explosion... was Vergil.

Floating in the air, his clothes torn in places where magic had tried to corrode his body. His hair was ablaze with blue flames, his eyes completely red, and behind him — a pair of demonic wings made of pure fire spread out in fury.

He touched the ground with elegance, still with a sober expression... until he winked at Pandora with pure mockery.

"That was rude."

Pandora stared at him, genuinely surprised—and excited.

"Oh... so you’re the type who survives the impossible. Interesting. Very interesting..."

Vergil brushed his shoulder as if removing dust, the air around him still vibrating with his activated infernal aura.

"You tried to swallow me with a giant magic snake," he said, through clenched teeth. "And you think I’m the problem."

Pandora smiled like a child who had just discovered a new favorite toy.

"You’re giving me ideas... lots of ideas."

Morgana no longer knew whether she wanted to scream, cry, or conjure up a celestial-level containment field.

"You two... YOU MUST BE SICK!"

Vergil and Pandora stared at each other for another moment—the world between them seemed frozen, their energies colliding, recognizing each other... testing each other.

And then... they both smiled.

It was the beginning of something dangerously fun.