My Wives are Beautiful Demons-Chapter 713: Angelo, Complete Adaptation.

Yama crossed her arms impatiently, her gaze fixed on the battlefield as her fingers drummed against her elbow, betraying the growing irritation she didn’t even try to hide.

The scene before her should have been grand, worthy of attention, but what she saw was merely a frustrating spectacle: Angelo being repeatedly destroyed by Vergil as if he were a training dummy, incapable of offering any real challenge. Each cut was clean, each movement of Vergil was precise, and the result was always the same—limbs flying, body torn apart, head separated... and, seconds later, everything reorganizing itself as if nothing had happened.

"This is pathetic." Yama clicked her tongue, turning her face away in disdain. "Seriously, Dante, is this the ’executioner’ you were saving as a trump card? He’s nothing but a regenerative punching bag. He can’t even touch his target."

Dante, leaning relaxed against a broken structure, only let out a low laugh, almost too amused for the situation. His eyes followed the fight with a tranquil glint, like someone watching a spectacle they already understood completely.

"You talk too much, you know?" he replied, without losing his smile. "You’re too anxious for someone who just arrived."

Yama narrowed her eyes, clearly irritated by his lack of urgency. "Anxious? I’m bored. This isn’t a fight, it’s a one-sided execution. If this thing were my subordinate, it would have already been disposed of."

In the background, Vergil pierced Angelo once more, the blade cutting through the enemy’s torso without any real resistance. The body momentarily shattered into fragments... and then began to recompose itself, fibers, flesh, and structure reorganizing with almost mechanical precision, although there was nothing truly mechanical there.

Dante let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You’re looking at it wrong."

Yama raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Then enlighten me, because so far I only see futility."

Dante finally straightened up, his gaze deepening as he followed Angelo’s every move, every destruction, every reconstruction. "He wasn’t made to win quickly."

Yama remained silent, waiting for the next step, though clearly impatient.

"Angelo is... like a living adaptation system," Dante began, choosing his words with unusual care. "Every time he suffers an attack, he doesn’t just regenerate. He analyzes. He registers. He understands."

On the battlefield, Vergil decapitated Angelo again, the movement so swift the sound seemed delayed by the cut. The head rolled across the ground... and yet, the body didn’t fall. Instead, both began to move, drawn to each other like pieces of a puzzle that refused to remain broken.

"Understands what?" Yama retorted. "That he’s being destroyed?"

Dante chuckled slightly. "No. He understands the attack. The energy. The pattern. The intent."

Yama frowned, beginning to pay closer attention, though still reluctant to admit interest.

"The first time Vergil cut him, it was too easy," Dante continued. "The second time, too. The third... did you notice it took a little longer to regenerate?"

Yama hesitated for a second, turning her gaze back to the fight. Angelo was whole again, but there was something... subtly different. His posture, the way he held his weapon, the way his body was structured—it wasn’t just reconstruction. It was adjustment.

"He’s... changing," she murmured.

Dante nodded, satisfied. "Exactly. Every time he’s hit, he learns how that attack works. It’s not just physical resistance. It’s complete adaptation."

On the battlefield, Vergil advanced again, quick as lightning, his blade tracing a perfect arc that should have split Angelo in two. But this time, something had changed. At the last instant, Angelo moved his body almost imperceptibly—not enough to avoid the blow completely, but enough to reduce the damage.

A deep cut opened his torso... but it wasn’t lethal.

Vergil paused for a moment.

Yama’s eyes widened, surprise escaping before she could disguise it. "He... anticipated it?"

"Not completely," Dante corrected, crossing his arms. "But he’s already on his way."

Angelo’s regeneration was faster this time. Cleaner. More efficient. As if his body already knew exactly how to rebuild itself from that specific type of damage.

"Every blow from Vergil is a lesson," Dante continued, his voice lower now, almost contemplative. "And Angelo is a student who never forgets."

Yama remained silent, watching as Angelo advanced again. He was still no match for Vergil—far from it. But he no longer seemed completely powerless.

"So you’re telling me..." she began slowly, "that the more he gets hit..."

Dante smiled, showing his teeth. "The more dangerous he becomes."

On the field, Vergil easily dodged an attack from Angelo, but this time something was different: the timing was better. The angle, more precise. Still insufficient... but it was no longer random.

Vergil narrowed his eyes slightly.

Yama sighed, crossing her arms again, but now her expression had changed. The irritation was still there... but there was also interest.

"So this idiot only needs to take enough hits to become a threat?"

Dante shrugged. "Basically."

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "What a ridiculous skill."

"Ridiculous?" Dante raised an eyebrow. "Imagine someone who can’t be defeated the same way twice."

Yama didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes remained fixed on the fight, analyzing every movement, every adjustment, every small evolution.

Vergil advanced once more... but this time, Angelo didn’t stand completely still waiting to be destroyed.

He moved.

Slightly. Insufficient.

But enough to show that Dante was right.

Yama smiled slightly, finally. "Now it’s interesting."

As the battlefield crumbled under the weight of blows that no longer had any elegance—only efficiency—Vergil’s expression changed almost imperceptibly, but decisively. Until that moment, he had treated Angelo as a trivial obstacle, something to be overcome effortlessly, a mechanical inconvenience amidst a scenario that demanded precision and absolute mastery. Each of Yamato’s cuts had been calculated, clean, perfect... and completely useless.

Not because they didn’t hit.

But because they didn’t solve anything.

Angelo advanced again, his body reconstructed with disturbing speed, his joints rearranging with a moist, organic sound, completely incompatible with the rigid appearance he displayed. There was no hesitation, no pain, not even anger. Only execution.

"Eliminate... Lucifer."

The blade descended in a brutal arc.

Vergil dodged with a simple sideways step, almost bored, but this time he didn’t immediately counter-attack. His eyes narrowed slightly, following his opponent’s movement with renewed attention, as if, for the first time, he were truly looking.

And it was at that moment that he sheathed Yamato.

The sound of the blade returning to its sheath echoed dry, definitive, out of place amidst the chaos. Angelo didn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t question. His body adjusted instantly, as if recognizing the change—or rather, as if reacting to it even before understanding it.

He attacked again.

Vergil raised his hand and blocked the blow directly with his forearm.

The impact was brutal, causing the ground to give way beneath their feet, a crater forming around them, but the demon didn’t retreat. He absorbed the force, deflecting the vector with minimal, almost lazy precision. It wasn’t defense—it was analysis.

His eyes were no longer focused on the attack.

They were focused on the behavior.

"...Interesting."

The murmur was low, almost inaudible, but it carried something new: genuine curiosity.

Angelo advanced again, faster.

Stronger.

The pattern had changed.

Vergil tilted his head slightly, dodging a blow that would have split an ordinary being in two, and then responded with a direct punch to his opponent’s chest. The impact was enough to distort Angelo’s body structure, compressing muscles, bones, and something else—something that shouldn’t exist.

But still, Angelo didn’t fall. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

He adapted.

His body absorbed the force. Redistributed it. Adjusted.

And attacked again.

Vergil took a half-step back.

Not out of necessity.

But by choice.

His thoughts raced silently, swift and precise, dissecting every detail of what he saw.

It’s not regeneration.

Regeneration implies a return to the original state.

This...

This is real-time evolution.

Angelo advanced again, and this time the movement was no longer the same as before. His posture had changed, his center of gravity adjusted to compensate for the previous blow, as if he had learned—not from accumulated experience, but from the aggression itself.

Vergil dodged, this time turning his body to allow the blade to pass close to his face, and responded with a sequence of quick, direct blows, without refined technique—deliberately simple.

He was testing.

Each impact met less resistance.

Each subsequent attack was slightly less effective.

Angelo was learning.

Not consciously.

But inevitably.

"So that’s it..."

Vergil closed his eyes for a brief moment, blocking another blow, now with only the palm of his hand, the impact echoing through the air like a contained thunderclap.

It’s not an enemy.

It’s a system.

He opened his eyes again, and this time there was something different in them. It wasn’t irritation. Nor arrogance.

It was analytical interest.

Angelo advanced once more, now with a sequence of attacks that directly reflected Vergil’s style—more precise angles, less wasted movement, increasing efficiency.

An imperfect copy.

But constantly being refined.

Vergil let out a soft sigh.

"You don’t improve with time..."

He dodged a blow, spun his body, and delivered a side kick that sent Angelo crashing against a distant wall, shattering it on impact.

"...you improve with confrontation."

Dust rose.

And, amidst it, Angelo was already rising.

Once again.

Always once more.

Vergil remained motionless for a few seconds, observing. His fingers flexed slightly, as if sensing the air around him, measuring something that couldn’t be seen directly.

If I keep using a blade...

It adapts to cuts.

If I use brute force...

It reinforces the structure.

If I vary patterns...

It learns the patterns.

A slight smile appeared on his lips.

Not of amusement.

But of recognition.

"So the solution isn’t to surpass him..."

Angelo advanced again, faster than before, the ground cracking beneath his feet.

Vergil took a step forward instead of retreating.

"...it’s to surpass his own logic."

The impact between the two was immediate.

Fist against fist.

Strength against strength.

But this time, Vergil wasn’t fighting to win.

He was fighting to understand.

And, for the first time since the beginning of the fight, the monotony had vanished.

Because this...

Finally...

Had become interesting.