My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses

Chapter 183 - No.183 Banging Brothers (1)

[Dominic’s POV]

"Okay, what’s our game plan—"

BOOOOM!

The entire manor shook as if something massive had just slammed directly into the outer boundary.

Crystal chandeliers rattled violently overhead.

Tea rippled across Carmilla’s cup.

Several pancake plates slid across the absurdly long breakfast table.

Gabriel squeaked.

Valeria nearly fell off her chair.

Selene pointed upward dramatically.

"THE PLOT HAS ARRIVED!"

Another tremor surged through the manor.

Not as strong.

But heavier.

Deliberate.

Like something outside was testing the structure rather than blindly attacking it.

The air shifted.

I felt it immediately.

Pressure.

Not demonic exactly.

Not holy either.

Just...

Dense.

Grayfia moved first.

Of course she did.

One moment, she stood beside me calmly—

—and the next she was already near the dining hall windows, silver eyes narrowed toward the outside world.

Frost crept silently across the marble beneath her heels.

Zeraphira stood immediately after.

The temperature around her rose sharply.

Heat and cold collided invisibly across the room.

"...That’s not a random attack," Wrath said flatly.

"No," Grayfia agreed.

BOOOOM!

Another impact.

This one louder.

Somewhere outside the manor’s territory, space distorted briefly like glass rippling under pressure.

The entire room felt it.

Even Eris stopped chewing pancakes.

Her small hands tightened around my shirt slightly.

"...Papa?"

"I’m here," I said quietly.

Gabriel stood up nervously.

"Should we evacuate?!"

"To where?" Ezravia replied instantly.

"...Oh."

Fair point.

Selene suddenly jumped onto her chair dramatically, one foot planted on the table.

"Fear not! For as the wise tactical masterminds of anime have taught us—"

I stood up, with Eris in my arms, who looked at me with a curious eye.

Conqueror’s Aura boiled beneath my skin.

Restless.

Agitated.

Like something inside me had suddenly stood up and bared its teeth.

"Carmilla, hold Eris for a while."

A cold voice echoed throughout the dining hall.

Mine.

That alone made the room go still for half a second.

Because I rarely sounded like that.

Not joking.

Not tired.

Not internally regretting my life choices.

Cold.

Focused.

Eris blinked up at me.

"But Papa—"

"It’ll just be for a bit," I said quietly, gently brushing a hand through her hair. "Stay with Carmilla, okay?"

Her small fingers tightened around my shirt for a moment.

Thinking.

Processing.

Then—

"...Okay."

Trusting.

Unquestioning.

That somehow hit harder than the explosion.

Carmilla rose gracefully from her seat, red eyes calm despite the tremor still subtly running through the manor.

"I shall watch over her."

Her tone carried no hesitation.

No uncertainty.

Only certainty.

Ancient certainty.

The kind carried by beings who had survived kingdoms collapsing around them.

I carefully handed Eris over.

She settled into Carmilla’s arms surprisingly easily, though her eyes still remained fixed on me.

"...Papa, be careful."

A small pause.

Then—

"I don’t like the loud noises."

My chest tightened slightly.

"...Yeah," I muttered quietly. "Me neither."

BOOOOOM!

Another impact slammed into the outer perimeter.

The manor trembled again.

This time—

Harder.

The chandeliers overhead swayed violently.

Somewhere deeper in the manor—

Glass cracked.

Not shattered.

Just...

Objecting.

Grayfia’s expression did not change.

But frost spread another meter across the marble floor.

"...Persistent," she said calmly.

Zeraphira cracked her neck once.

The heat around her intensified.

Controlled.

Violent.

Restrained.

Like a wildfire sitting politely in a chair.

"Whoever’s outside," she said flatly, "is getting annoying."

Selene, still standing dramatically atop the chair like she had personally mistaken life for an anime opening sequence, pointed toward the ceiling.

"Clearly, this is the enemy’s opening move!"

Ezravia pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Get off the furniture."

"No."

"Why?"

"Higher ground."

"You are indoors."

"Strategic superiority transcends architecture."

Valeria gasped dramatically.

"She’s right."

"She is objectively not," Ezravia replied.

Ravvy quietly grabbed another pancake.

"...Can I finish breakfast first?"

Everyone looked at her.

She blinked innocently.

"What?"

Grayfia finally turned from the window.

Her silver eyes landed on me.

"Master."

Straight to business.

"The perimeter ward remains intact."

A pause.

"But this is not random aggression."

"Testing," Zeraphira said.

Grayfia inclined her head once.

"Yes."

Another tremor rolled through the manor.

Less force.

More precision.

Like someone tapping against reinforced steel.

Searching.

Measuring.

The pressure outside thickened.

Not singular.

Layered.

Multiple presences.

Strong ones.

"Let me handle this, will you." It was more of a command than a request as my feet already started walking toward the door.

Grayfia’s silver eyes flickered in my direction.

"Master," she said calmly, "that is not advisable."

BOOOOM!

The manor shuddered again, dust drifting from the ceiling edges like the building itself was exhaling irritation.

Zeraphira stepped forward at the same time.

"Agreed," Wrath said flatly. "You’re not going out there."

I didn’t stop walking.

"I wasn’t asking permission."

That made the room go quiet.

Not tense.

Not surprised.

Just... aware.

Like everyone collectively realised I had crossed a line I usually hovered behind.

Selene lowered herself slowly from the chair.

"...Oh," she said softly. "That’s the serious voice again."

Ezravia’s purple eyes narrowed.

"...Darling. You are still—"

"You complete that sentence and see how that ends," I cut in flatly.

Ezravia paused.

Her eyes narrowed further.

"...Threat noted."

"Good."

BOOOOM!

The manor shook again, harder this time.

A distant crack echoed through the outer barrier—like glass under pressure, finally remembering it could break if pushed correctly.

Grayfia’s expression finally shifted.

Not fear.

Not panic.

Assessment sharpened.

"...There are at least six entities outside," she said calmly.

Zeraphira clicked her tongue.

"Seven."

Selene blinked.

"Why is it always seven? Is that like a branding thing in Hell?"

"No one answers that," Ezravia muttered.

Ravvy raised a hand slightly.

"I can still eat while fighting, right?"

"No," all three said instantly.

"Rude."

BOOOOM!

Another impact.

This one came lower.

Closer to the foundation.

The dining hall lights flickered once.

Gabriel quietly stepped back.

"...I think they’re serious," she whispered.

Selene pointed upward again.

"OR they’re just very enthusiastic about knocking!"

"HEY DEMON BRAT, YOU IN THERE? I GOT A JOB TO DO. CAN YOU PLEASE FALL ON MY BLADE, SO I CAN GO HOME?!"

There was a beat of silence.

Then Selene slowly turned to look at me.

"...That is the least professional assassination request I have ever heard."

"Agreed," Ezravia said flatly.

Valeria covered a laugh with one hand. "He sounds rude."

Ravvy swallowed another pancake bite and nodded seriously. "He sounds hungry."

Gabriel blinked. "Why would he want Dominic to fall on a blade?"

"Budget constraints, perhaps," Carmilla murmured.

Another impact hit the perimeter.

BOOOOM.

The manor gave a deep, resonant shudder.

The chandelier overhead rattled hard enough that I expected it to file a complaint.

Grayfia’s eyes narrowed by a fraction.

"That voice," she said quietly, "is not the leader."

Zeraphira tilted her head.

"Then who is it?"

Grayfia’s gaze stayed on the windows. "An impatient subordinate."

A second voice rose from outside, lower and more amused.

"Stop yelling, Karr. You sound like an idiot."

A heavier bang followed, like a fist or weapon striking the outer wall with deliberate rhythm.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

The sound was almost insulting in its certainty.

Then the first voice snapped back, louder.

"I WILL TURN YOU INTO PAST TENSE, RAEK!"

Selene stared at the ceiling.

"...So they are literally banging brothers."

I exhaled through my nose.

"Unfortunately, that appears to be the case."

Gabriel frowned in innocent confusion. "Is that their group name?"

"I sincerely hope not," Ezravia muttered.

Another voice cut in from farther out, calmer than the others but amplified by magic or force.

"Target residence confirmed. Do not breach until the outer line is mapped."

That one did not sound like a brat.

It sounded like a professional.

And that was worse.

Grayfia’s gaze sharpened.

"Coordination," she said. "So there are at least three distinct actors outside."

Zeraphira’s expression cooled.

"Hunters with leadership."

"Obviously," I said quietly, then looked toward the windows. "Which means the loud ones are probably trying to agitate us into making a mistake."

Valeria blinked. "That is rude."

"That is also effective," Carmilla said calmly as she looked at me, already walking out.

As soon as I arrived outside, my gaze fell on at least eight individuals lurking just outside the outer parameter ward.

The voice came from the front.

Loud.

Unrefined.

Impatient in a way that sounded almost professional if you squinted hard enough and ignored the violence implied in every syllable.

"Great! Can you confirm your name so that we can get to the part where I slice you ear to ear?"

The man standing at the edge of the outer perimeter was grinning like this was a scheduled appointment he was already late for.

Behind him, seven more figures spread across fractured space like they owned the geometry.

Some leaned casually.

Some stood still.

One twirled a blade absentmindedly, like patience was something he had once read about but never personally experienced.

The outer ward shimmered faintly between us—an invisible wall of layered authority and spatial distortion.

And yet—

They were here.

Pressing.

Testing.

My eyes narrowed slightly.

"...You’re efficient," I said.

The man tilted his head.

"Oh? Thanks. I get that a lot before people die."

Selene’s voice floated from behind me through the doorway.

"That is NOT a personality trait!"

"Depends on your career goals," he replied cheerfully without looking away from me.

Grayfia stepped up beside me silently.

Zeraphira followed a second later, heat already gathering around her like a restrained sun deciding whether diplomacy was worth it today.

Behind them, I could hear Valeria whispering:

"Wow, he’s kind of rude in a charming way."

Ezravia: "Do not encourage him."

Ravvy: "He looks edible."

Gabriel: "Please don’t eat strangers."

The man in front of me sighed dramatically.

"Can we skip introductions? I’ve got three more jobs after this, and honestly, your gate is thicker than expected."

He tapped the ward lightly.

The entire barrier rippled.

Just from contact.

Not broken.

Not even cracked.

But felt.

Like something evaluating it.

Grayfia’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

"...He’s probing the structure," she said quietly.

Zeraphira clicked her tongue.

"Of course he is."

The man heard that and smiled wider.

"Oh, she talks. Nice. I was worried you were all just decorative intimidation pieces."

A flicker of frost spread along the ground under Grayfia’s heel.

The temperature dropped a degree.

Then another.

"I advise you," Grayfia said calmly, "to step back."

The man blinked.

Then laughed.

"Wow. Polite threat. I like you already."

He lifted his hand.

And snapped his fingers.

The space behind him folded slightly.

Not teleportation.

Not a magic circle formation.

Something cleaner.

Like reality briefly acknowledging an administrative command.

The other seven straightened.

That alone changed the air.

Because before—

they were individuals.

Now—

they were a unit.

A pack recognising signal.

The calm one in the back spoke again.

"Target confirmation complete. Begin phase one."

I exhaled slowly.

"...So you really are here for me."

The leader shrugged.

"Mostly paperwork, honestly. You’re on a list."

Selene yelled from behind me.

"WHO PUT HIM ON A LIST?!"

"I don’t know," the man replied casually. "We don’t really ask who writes them. It keeps morale up."

Ezravia muttered darkly:

"That is the worst organisational structure I’ve ever heard."

Grayfia’s gaze remained fixed on them.

"Leave," she said again. "This is your final warning."

The man scratched his neck.

"Lady, I already gave you mine."

He gestured lazily.

"Sixteen seconds from now, the first layer breaks. After that, things get messy. After that—"

He smiled.

"—I get paid."

Zeraphira stepped forward half a pace.

Heat surged.

The air bent slightly under rising pressure.

"...Try it," she said flatly.

The man looked at her.

Paused.

Then whistled.

"Ooooh. Wrath-type. Nice. You’re my backup target if I finish early."

Valeria leaned forward from the doorway.

"Am I also a backup target?"

He glanced at her.

"...Are you loud on purpose?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

Valeria gasped.

"I made the list!"

Ezravia grabbed her by the collar and pulled her back inside.

"Stop participating in your own assassination."

Ravvy raised her hand again.

"I would also like to be on a list."

"No," all three said instantly.

The man in front stretched his arms.

"Alright. Enough talking."

He took one step forward.

The ward reacted instantly.

Light surged through invisible layers.

The entire perimeter hummed.

Grayfia’s eyes sharpened.

"...Master," she said quietly, "they are about to breach."

I looked at her.

Then at Zeraphira.

Then, at the line of intruders, casually preparing to violate reality’s private property boundary.

"...Good," I said.

Grayfia blinked once.

That was rare.

Zeraphira turned her head slightly.

"...Good?"

I exhaled slowly.

"Because I was getting tired of waiting for them to finish introductions."

I stepped forward, casually summoning the [Muramasa—Venomfang Replica] from the System Inventory.

Tti-ring!

[Item: Muramasa – Venomfang Replica]

– Rank: ??? (Bound)

– Effect: Increases physical damage output by 45%.

– Lifesteal: Converts 10% of inflicted damage into HP.

– Malice: The longer combat continues, the sharper the blade becomes (+3% damage per minute of continuous battle).

– Venomfang: Attacks carry a stacking venom effect (applies poison that weakens enemy vitality and regeneration).

– Bound to User. Cannot be dropped, stolen, or sold.

– Limitation: Being a replica, its growth potential is capped unless ???.

The man in front of me tilted his head slightly, eyes locking onto Muramasa like it was an interesting inconvenience rather than a threat.

"Nice looking stick you got there, kid."

He cracked his neck once.

"Hope it’s got a good warranty."

Behind him, one of the others chuckled.

Another rotated a blade slowly, like boredom itself had learned how to fight.

Grayfia didn’t move.

But the frost beneath her heel deepened a shade.

Zeraphira’s aura flared quietly, heat pressing against the incoming cold pressure until the air itself felt strained between two extremes.

I didn’t answer immediately.

I just stepped forward.

One step.

Then another.

The ward behind me hummed louder, sensing escalation.

Selene’s voice came faintly from inside the manor.

"OH! He’s doing the calm walk! That’s either victory or catastrophic trauma!"

Ezravia sighed.

"Neither. It’s escalation."

Valeria whispered loudly, "He looks cool right now."

"That’s how people die," Ezravia replied flatly.

Ravvy nodded. "Cool people first."

"Ravvy, stop agreeing with that!"

Outside, the leader stretched lazily.

"Alright, listen," he said, rolling his shoulders. "We’re not here for a speech. We’re here for confirmation, minimal resistance, and maximum payout."

He pointed at me.

"You’re the target. You come quietly, we all live slightly longer."

I finally spoke.

"That’s a terrible plan."

He blinked.

Then laughed.

"Yeah? So is yours, probably."

Grayfia moved first—

"Master—"

Too late.

Clang!

A slash of metal rang as I was suddenly in front of him.

Not teleported.

Not moved.

Just—

arrived.

The air behind me snapped like a stretched thread, finally deciding it had tolerated enough.

The leader’s blade stopped mid-swing.

Two fingers.

That was all it took.

My black membrane-coated index finger and thumb pinched the edge of his weapon—stopping it a hair’s breadth from my throat.

The metal screamed.

Not metaphorically.

It actually screamed—like something in the alloy remembered it was never supposed to be used this way.

The man’s grin didn’t disappear.

It widened.

"...Oh."

That was all he said.

Behind him, the formation shifted instantly.

Seven presences sharpened.

No hesitation anymore.

No testing.

Recognition had happened.

The leader’s eyes flicked down to my fingers holding his blade.

Then back to me.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Okay. That’s... better than expected."

I tilted my head slightly.

"Better than expected?"

He shrugged, still locked in place with me holding his weapon like it was a mildly inconvenient receipt.

"Usually, people either die there or start begging."

A pause.

"Or scream. Screaming’s common."

Selene’s voice echoed faintly from the manor behind me.

"SCREAMING IS A VALID RESPONSE TO SUDDEN NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES!"

"Not helpful," Ezravia muttered.

The man tried to pull his blade back.

It didn’t move.

Not even a millimetre.

His grin twitched slightly.

"...Huh."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

Leave a review, seriously, it helps.

Comments are almost nonexistent. Which, in turn, demotivates the authors. Please have some compassion.