My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses-Chapter 137 - No. Kneeling Ceremony?!

[Location: 99th Floor Of Vampire King’s Castle]

After some time, I was sitting on a vintage chair with sleeping Eris on my lap.

With my shadow soldiers: Erebus, Astra, Paimon, Draugr, Bob, Vael, and Carmilla— the Ex-wife of Vampire King Alucard, Guardian of the 99th Floor, stood surrounding me.

Erebus kneeled in front of me, with enough force to break the flooring. "My king, I am ashamed. When you needed me the most, I wasn’t there. Please..."

Erebus’s words cut off as his head lowered further, horned brow nearly scraping the fractured stone.

"...Please," he finished, voice low and distorted like a blade dragged across shadow. "Grant me punishment. Command it. I failed to guard you. I failed to answer your call."

The 99th Floor was quiet.

Not the empty kind.

The waiting kind.

I looked down at Eris on my lap first.

She was still asleep, small fingers tangled in the front of my coat, silver-white hair with faint golden tips spread messily across my thigh. Her breathing was soft and even now, exhaustion finally claiming her after the panic. Every once in a while, she sniffed and muttered something unintelligible, then pressed closer like instinct demanded proximity.

I didn’t move her.

Only then did I lift my gaze back to Erebus.

"Get up," I said.

The word wasn’t loud.

It didn’t need to be.

Erebus stiffened as if struck. His shoulders trembled, but he didn’t rise immediately.

"...My king," he said hoarsely. "If you command—"

"I didn’t," I interrupted. "I said get up, not confess."

Astra shifted slightly behind him, her golden eye narrowing in the mask. Paimon crossed his arms. Draugr remained motionless as a statue. Bob looked between us, vibrating uncertainly. Vael’s robe twitched. Carmilla watched silently, crimson eyes unreadable.

Erebus finally stood.

Slowly.

The cracked floor groaned under the release of pressure as he rose to full height, towering even while keeping his head respectfully lowered.

"You weren’t there," I continued, voice steady, "because I ordered you to remain and safeguard Eris. Did you fail to do that?"

Erebus froze.

The question hung there—not sharp, not accusatory, but absolute. The kind of question that demanded truth without allowing self-flagellation to hide inside it.

Slowly, Erebus lifted his head.

"...No," he said.

The word came out heavy. Grounded. Not defensive.

"I did not fail that command," Erebus continued, voice resonating through the chamber like a shadow made sound. "The child did not suffer harm while I stood. No threat crossed the threshold I was bound to guard."

"Then you didn’t fail," I said simply.

Erebus stared.

Actually stared.

For the first time since his extraction, his expression cracked—not into rage or devotion—but confusion.

"...But you fell," he said. "Your presence vanished. Your shadow collapsed inward. The domain shook. The castle screamed. I felt—" His claws flexed. "—the severing."

"And you stayed," I replied. "Because that was the order."

Silence again.

Astra, usually playful and sharp-tongued, stepped forward and took Erebus’s place and just like him.

Astra knelt.

Not gracefully.

Not ceremonially.

She dropped to one knee with a force that spiderwebbed cracks across the already-damaged stone, golden eye burning beneath her mask as her fist slammed to the floor.

"Then I failed," she said immediately. No hesitation. No poetry. "Unlike Erebus, I was there, couldn’t even buy time for you, my king!"

Paimon, Vael, Draugr and Bob too, knelt side by side as they too were with me.

The sound of multiple bodies striking stone echoed through the chamber.

Heavy.

Final.

Six figures knelt before me now—shadows, kings, monsters, remnants of legends—and yet the weight in my lap was still heavier.

Eris stirred slightly at the noise, a tiny frown creasing her brow. Her fingers tightened unconsciously in my coat.

I exhaled through my nose and raised one finger.

"Stop."

The word carried just enough authority to freeze the air.

Paimon’s knee halted an inch from the floor. Vael’s robes stilled mid-sway. Bob wobbled, panicked, before awkwardly settling half-kneeling, half-squatting like he wasn’t sure what posture applied to him. Draugr was already down, unmoving as a mausoleum. Carmilla remained standing, arms folded beneath her chest, crimson gaze never leaving my face.

Astra looked up sharply.

"My king—"

"I said stop," I repeated. "That includes the self-immolation."

Astra’s jaw clenched behind the mask.

"...As you command."

I shifted slightly in the chair, careful not to wake Eris, then looked at them properly. Really looked.

Erebus, still standing but rigid as a drawn blade.

Astra, burning with frustrated guilt.

Paimon, scowling through his helm like he wanted to argue with the concept of failure itself.

Vael, unreadable as ever.

Draugr, silent, loyal, absolute.

Bob... trembling, eyes wide, clearly convinced he’d somehow doomed the universe.

While Camilla was watching all this, like a bystander.

"I assume you all feel like you should have done more," I finished quietly.

No one spoke.

That alone was answer enough.

The silence stretched, thick with things unsaid—guilt, frustration, loyalty sharpened into something almost painful. Even the castle itself seemed to hold its breath, ancient stone listening to a conversation it hadn’t heard in centuries.

I leaned back slightly in the vintage chair, the old wood creaking under my weight, one arm instinctively tightening around Eris when she shifted again. She made a small sound, halfway between a sigh and a whine, then burrowed closer, forehead pressing against my chest.

...Yeah. Definitely not moving her.

"You’re wrong," I continued calmly. "All of you."

Paimon’s helm tilted a fraction.

Astra stiffened.

Erebus’s shadows rippled uneasily.

Bob squeaked. Literally squeaked.

"Wrong... how?" Astra asked, the word sharp, clipped, like she was bracing for a reprimand.

I met her gaze—through the mask, through the bravado, straight at the core.

"You’re assuming the objective was to win," I said. "Or to protect me. Or to stop what happened." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

A pause.

"It wasn’t."

That landed harder than anything I could’ve shouted.

Vael’s hood turned toward me. Draugr’s empty eyes flared faintly. Even Carmilla’s brows lifted—just a hair.

"The objective," I said evenly, "was to survive the outcome. And on that front?"

I gestured lazily around the chamber.

"You did perfectly."

Astra opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Then opened it again, voice lower now. "My king... with respect—"

"Careful," I warned mildly.

She swallowed.

"...With respect," she corrected, slower this time, "you collapsed. Your presence vanished. The 99th Floor nearly ruptured. Alucard’s residual wards screamed like they were being skinned alive."

"I know," I said.

"You were gone," Paimon added, unable to hold back. "Not hidden. Not masked. Gone. Even I couldn’t feel you."

"I know."

Erebus finally spoke again, voice reverent and heavy. "For a moment... I thought our existence had become empty."

That one almost woke Eris.

My jaw tightened—but only for a moment.

"And yet," I said, "none of you panicked. None of you broke formation. None of you abandoned your charges."

I paused, letting that sink in.

"You did exactly what you were meant to do."

Bob raised one trembling hand. "...E-even me?"

I glanced at him.

"You especially you."

Bob promptly burst into tears.

Ugly ones.

I sighed. "I’m not saying this because I’m being kind," I continued, redirecting before Bob could start hugging furniture again. "I’m saying it because this was never a battlefield."

Astra frowned. "Then what was it?"

I hesitated.

Not because I didn’t know.

Because the truth wasn’t something I could—or would—explain fully.

"To become stronger," I said instead. "I wanted to become so strong that, I never had to see anyone close to me go through what Grayfia has. I almost lost her; she was this close to—"

I stopped myself.

Not because the words weren’t there.

Because Eris stirred.

A small sound left her throat, soft and fragile, like a dream trying to turn into a nightmare. Her fingers tightened again in my coat, nails pressing through fabric as if anchoring herself to something solid.

I lowered my voice immediately.

"...to dying," I finished quietly.

No names.

No explanations.

No truths I wasn’t ready to bleed into the open.

Paimon caught it anyway.

He always did.

At that time, only he was the one extracted with King’s Call; Bob was there too, but he didn’t develop his own personality at that time; everyone else wasn’t even extracted.

"I understand, my king."

"Good, now everyone. Come Back."

The entire shadow army dissolved into a tide of black smoke, streaming toward my feet and disappearing beneath my shadow.

Then my attention finally settled on the one watching all this—

Carmilla.

She hadn’t moved.

Carmilla tilted her head slightly, long raven curls slipping over one pale shoulder as she regarded me with faint hope, and finality.

"So," she repeated, tone smooth but edged, "Alucard is sealed again? Or will he finally perish this time?"

The 99th Floor felt colder all of a sudden.

Not because of mana.

Because of memory.

I didn’t answer her immediately.

Instead, I adjusted my hold on Eris, shifting her weight more comfortably against my chest. She murmured something incoherent, tiny fingers twitching, then settled again—warm, alive, stubbornly real.

Only then did I look back at Carmilla.

"Alucard isn’t dead," I said calmly.

Carmilla’s eyes flickered.

Just for an instant.

"And?" she prompted. "That wasn’t the second half of my question."

"After I leave, the space would collapse inward, erasing anything and anyone within..." I left the sentence hanging, waiting to see her reaction to that.

Heh~

Carmilla’s lips parted.

Then—slowly—curved.

Not into joy.

Not into cruelty.

But into something far more dangerous.

Relief.

"So," she whispered, crimson eyes softening just a fraction, "Ophis... your murderer will finally—"

She stopped herself.

The word perish hovered on her tongue, trembling, unfinished.

For the first time since I’d seen her, Carmilla looked... uncertain.

I leaned back slightly in the chair, shadows settling obediently around my feet, Eris warm and heavy against my chest. The castle’s ancient mana hummed faintly, like it too was listening.

"Finish it," I said calmly.

Carmilla studied my face.

Really studied it.

Not the power behind me.Not the authority coiled in my shadow.But me.

"...Will finally be erased," she finished quietly.

I didn’t smile.

I didn’t nod.

I asked, "Ophis, name of your daughter?"

Carmilla didn’t answer immediately.

For the first time since I’d met her—since the first moment she’d emerged from the shadowed arches of the 99th Floor, blood-red eyes sharp with centuries of resentment—she hesitated.

The pause was small.

Barely a breath.

But in that breath lived a thousand years of grief.

"...Ophis," she repeated softly, as if tasting the name from a distance. Her fingers curled slightly at her side, nails digging into her palm. "You ask lightly, for something that was... everything."

The castle answered for her.

The 99th Floor exhaled.

Stone pillars groaned faintly, ancient vampiric sigils flickering and dimming along the walls as if old wards were loosening their grip. Somewhere deep within the castle’s bones, something settled—an old echo finally finding rest.

Carmilla took a slow step forward.

Then another.

Her heels clicked against the fractured stone, each sound measured, deliberate. She stopped just short of me, crimson gaze dropping—briefly—to Eris curled in my arms.

The child stirred at the shift in presence, nose scrunching faintly, but didn’t wake.

Carmilla’s expression... softened.

Just a fraction.

"...Her name," Carmilla said at last, voice low and even, "was Ophis."

The name didn’t thunder.

It didn’t shake the world.

It landed gently.

Like something precious set down after being carried too long.

"Ophis Noctem," Carmilla continued. "Born under a blood eclipse. Small. Sickly. Too gentle for a court like ours." Her lips twitched. "Alucard said she was weak."

My jaw tightened.

"She laughed too loudly," Carmilla went on, eyes unfocused now, staring past me into memory. "Asked too many questions. Cried when servants were punished. She liked flowers. Real ones. Not the blood-grown kind."

Her voice didn’t break.

That was worse.

"She used to hide behind my skirts during court assemblies," Carmilla said quietly. "Would tug my sleeve and whisper, ’Mama, why is everyone angry all the time?’"

The silence after that was absolute.

Even the castle seemed to recoil.

I didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t comment.

Didn’t offer comfort she hadn’t asked for.

I just listened.

Carmilla inhaled slowly, shoulders rising, then falling. "Alucard sealed her fate the day he decided love was inefficient," she said. "He called it... necessary. A refinement of lineage. A correction."

Her eyes finally met mine again.

"But I already told you all that was."

"So... you want anything else? As the moment I leave the space well... that."

For my question, she only tilted her head forward, almost touching mine.

"I... I want to..."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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