Capítulo 619: Stories of Mothers and Daughters
Vergil descended the last steps with the weight of soone who had just defeated a top-level boss—but the boss was just a completely drunk demon who defied any existing moral boundaries.
He shrugged, cracked his neck, and muttered:
“That drunk woman is more trouble than a god trying to kill …”
When he reached the main hall, he noticed an unusual movent.
Raphaeline was there, with that wifely smile that already knew she was up to sothing.
Next to her was Ada, clinging to her, but still with that slight post-traumatic shyness from the Dionysus incident.
Katharina and Roxanne were sitting on the sofa, pretending to watch TV, but clearly listening to everything.
Viviane was in the kitchen, with outstretched wings and an oversized t-shirt, preparing a cake with an almost spiritual focus.
Raphaeline saw Vergil and flashed that radiant smile—the typical smile of soone who hadn’t (yet) seen the antics Sapphire had pulled.
“Love!”
She crossed the hall with the grace of a celestial queen and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his chest.
Ada ca right behind, holding his arm and tiptoeing to kiss him too.
Vergil put an arm around each of their shoulders, sighing at least once a second.
“You two arrived at the sa ti?”
Raphaeline let go of him and intertwined her fingers with his.
“Nothing much, just ca to spend so ti here. I wanted to see how things are going, and…”
She looked up at him with that expression of a mother whispering gossip.
“I wanted to know how it was to kill Dionysus.”
Vergil gave a satisfied little laugh.
“It was simple. He tried to steal Ada from .”
He pulled Raphaeline’s daughter closer, kissing the top of her head.
“So I needed to live up to my title as husband.”
Ada blushed instantly.
Raphaeline raised her hands, theatrically, happily.
“I knew it! I knew I could count on you.”
She pinched her daughter’s cheek.
“Thank you for protecting my little girl.”
Vergil snorted proudly.
“She’s my girl. Nobody lays a hand on her.”
Ada blushed even more.
And then Raphaeline—of course—decided to go further.
“She can call you daddy now, right?”
And she gave the most wicked and angelic little smile the underworld had ever witnessed.
Ti stopped.
Ada froze.
Katharina opened her mouth.
Roxanne spat out her soda.
Viviane banged the spoon so hard on the bowl that so of the batter flew out.
Ada scread:
“NEVER!! I would never call my own husband d-d-dad!!!”
Raphaeline put her hand to her mouth as if shocked—but it was 100% acting.
“Wait, aren’t you married? My son-in-law takes such good care of you that he REALLY looks like a—”
“NO ONE HERE IS GOING TO SAY THAT WORD!!” Ada almost had an aneurysm.
Roxanne, still coughing from laughing so hard, murmured:
“My God… it’s beco a trend… it’s genetic…”
Katharina put her hand to her face.
“After my mother, now hers too… this is a worldwide family outbreak.”
Vergil sighed deeply, once again reconsidering his entire life.
“That’s enough. No oyakodon 2.0 today. Either Daddy-chan, or Daddy-kun, or anything like that.”
Raphaeline crossed her arms and pouted.
“Aww… I thought it was cute…”
Vergil narrowed his eyes at her.
“You just want to annoy .”
Raphaeline gave an innocent smile.
“Maybe.”
Ada grabbed his arm as if protecting herself from an earthquake.
“I will NEVER call. Never. Never. NEVER.”
Vergil kissed her forehead.
“I know, little one.”
Ada turned completely red and lted.
Raphaeline laughed, satisfied that she had set the whole room on fire.
“But seriously…” she said, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to see you. And see if Ada was okay after everything. She got very nervous.”
Vergil pulled Ada closer, with a firm caress.
“Now she’s safe.”
Ada buried her face in his chest in embarrassnt—and also a little pride.
Viviane appeared with a plate in her hands.
“The cake’s in the oven. But I heard the ‘daddy’ part.
I wanted to say that I support this version of chaos.”
“VIVIANE!!” Ada almost exploded.
Roxanne was already lying on the sofa, laughing uncontrollably.
Katharina murmured:
“If my mother wakes up and cos down saying ‘good morning, my son-in-law,’ I swear I’ll give up on life.”
Vergil raised a finger.
“She’s sleeping. And nobody will wake her. Ever again. Maybe for years.”
Raphaeline winked at him.
“Hm… sleeping? Uh… she got drunk, didn’t she?”
Vergil remained silent.
Raphaeline smiled even more.
“Ahhh… then I know.”
Katharina paled.
Roxanne vibrated with joy.
Ada hid behind Vergil.
And Vergil concluded, wearily… “Let’s go to the living room. You all need to explain to why every mother in this house has a screw loose. My mother would be the only one wanting sothing like this.”
…Speaking of Sephirothy… Elsewhere.
The darkness there wasn’t rely an absence of light.
It was a presence. Ancient. Abundant. Dense enough to weigh on the skin—the kind of darkness that swallowed thoughts, voices, echoes, and even mories, if anyone dared to stand still for too long.
And it was precisely in that place, at the absolute edge of the demonic world, in the final abyss where even the underworld refused to look…
…that Sepphirothy finally stopped.
Millennia of silence watched the woman as her black demonic wings and white angelic wings opened, trembling with a primal energy too primal to describe. The tip of her tail rose, restless.
Behind her, Neberius landed softly, his feet touching that liquid, lifeless surface that seed to exist only out of stubbornness.
She looked around. “…so this is real,” she murmured, incredulous. “After all these centuries… I really thought it was a lie.”
Sepphirothy didn’t answer imdiately. Her eyes were fixed ahead… still, wide open, as if the universe itself had stopped breathing.
And then, finally, she took a step.
And the darkness receded.
Like a frightened animal recognizing a predator above all else.
Before them, illuminated by a light that ca from nowhere, lay an ancient altar. So ancient that ti swore it didn’t rember creating it. Made of bones, black crystal, and sothing only ancestral magic could sustain.
And in the center…
…a seal.
A perfect circle, carved with runes so ancient that language itself had vanished from the universe.
Neberius swallowed hard. “Shit… primordial demonic magic…” She felt fear for the first ti since leaving Lucifer’s vault.
Not respect.
Not caution.
Genuine fear.
Because that place wasn’t empty.
It was sleeping.
Sepphirothy knelt slowly, touching the ground with a reverence she had never shown to Hell, the Underworld, Vergil, or any existing sovereign.
“Finally…” she murmured, her voice trembling. “After so long…”
Her nails touched the edge of the altar. The stone glead, recognizing her blood.
An ancient sigh echoed through the abyss.
Not wind.
Not mana.
Sothing deeper.
Sothing that knew her na.
Neberius felt a chill run down his spine.
“Sepphi… this… this really is…?”
She took a step back.
“I don’t think we should be here or touch this thing.”
Sepphirothy placed her entire palm on the altar.
Black flas ignited lines that had lain dormant for ages.
And then she said… “Yes.” The runes awakened like eyes. “This is her resting place.”
Neberius stopped breathing.
Sepphirothy raised her face, and with an impossible mixture of pride, fear, and absolute devotion, announced:
“The tomb of the progenitor of all demons.” The black fla responded in unison, as if echoing the declaration. “Lilith.” The na crossed the abyss and returned, multiplied, reverberating like a forbidden chant.
Neberius pressed his arms against his body.
“Sepphirothy… if she really is here…” Her voice trembled. “…then there is no more dangerous place in the world.”
Sepphirothy smiled slowly.
A smile that no one else could see without kneeling.
“I know.” She slid her fingers over the runes, feeling the dormant pulse of the first mother. “That’s why I ca.” The abyss shuddered.
As if Lilith had sensed soone of her own blood for the first ti in ages.
And then… The seal breathed. Lightly. But real. Neberius fell to his knees, overco with pure terror.
Sepphirothy rely closed her eyes. “I have found you, mother.”
He roared.
As if he were alive. As if he were suffering. As if he were being forcibly ripped from a sleep that lasted longer than any civilization ever dread of existing.
The runes began to bleed light.
Light—not mana, not energy—light.
Red light, pulsating, organic.
As if each symbol were an eye being forced to open.
And then Sepphirothy’s blood touched the surface.
The very instant the first drop fell, the seal scread.
The ground vibrated like a heart beating for the first ti in ages.
The walls exhaled an icy breath, laden with echoes too ancient to translate, and reality itself seed to bend, as if recognizing a forbidden na.
Neberius took an unsteady step back.
“Sepphy… this… this is real. I… I thought it was a myth…”
Sepphirothy didn’t answer.
She simply raised her hand and expanded her barrier, embracing Neberius with a shield that seed like the very fabric of tad chaos. The impact of the seal’s reaction was so absurd that the barrier vibrated—and Sepphirothy gritted her teeth to keep it standing.
And then the world stopped.
The seal opened.
It didn’t break. It didn’t crack. It didn’t explode.
It simply opened, as if it had never been a prison, but a door waiting for the right blood.
On the other side…
…there was silence.
Silence so absolute it hurt.
Until sothing moved.
A slender hand erged first—long, elegant, but the color of a dead moon, stained with cracks that shimred with purple light. Then ca silvery hair: long as ancient rivers, falling in clumped strands, dirty, heavy, without any shine. The kind of hair that was once divine, but lost centuries to death.
A feminine shadow rose from the ashes, bent over, as if the air were too heavy after sleeping countless ages.
And then she raised her face.
The whole world seed to recoil.
But what stood before them… was not the Lilith of legends.
It was the Lilith that death returned incomplete after being sealed and kept in the abyss for thousands of years.
Every detail seed sculpted to evoke a primal instinct of reverence and terror…
The skin, too white, almost transparent, cut by fissures that seed to gleam like cold lava beneath the surface. As if it were an ancient vase, about to shatter… yet still terribly beautiful.
The eyes, crimson as boiled blood, shone with an intensity no living creature should sustain. But the brilliance trembled, flickering like a dying star.
The lips, once seductive, were cracked, marked by ti and silence—but still carried a smile that knew how to send armies to hell with a whisper.
The horns, broken and jagged, open with internal cracks that pulsed like diseased hearts. Power escaped from them in small snaps, like dripping ink.
The clothes, which in the image would be a symbol of absolute luxury, were now worn, torn at the edges, the tals darkened, the gems opaque—but sothing in them still scread fallen divinity.
Her body, too slender, too trembling, moved gracefully… and with the weight of soone who rembered what it was like to live, but wasn’t sure if her body would still obey.
When she raised her head completely, the air changed.
It weighed down.
It bent.
The very darkness seed to bow, like servants kneeling.
Sepphirothy took a deep breath—and her heart tightened. Not because she was afraid.
But because she recognized.
The energy was the sa that coursed through her blood.
Older.
Colder.
Deeper.
Lilith opened her eyes slowly, the crimson light piercing Sepphirothy like a blade.
And she smiled.
A broken smile… but laden with ancient love and forgotten hunger.
“Mine…” Her voice ca out scratchy, rough, like stones scraping against the bottom of the abyss.
She breathed again—and the sound echoed like the first breath of a divine creature reborn. “My daughter…”
Sepphirothy looked at her… Although she was now over a thousand years old, much more than that… She was still a little girl when she saw her mother.
“M-mommy…” Sepphirothy said as Lilith tried to stand.
But… the strength in her body gave way and she fainted…
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