Chapter 874: I won the Divine Lottery.

Vergil stood before the twelve thousand Valkyries with his six wings fully unfurled, feeling the pressure of the Underworld bearing down on each of them. The transformation he intended to bring about could not be achieved simply by pouring demonic energy into their bodies. Valkyries were entities bound to the Norse cycle of death, formed of divine energy, ancient pacts, and a function that had become part of their very souls. Altering all of that without a stable connection could destroy half of them before the process even began. He left Mjölnir secured at his waist and raised both hands. A black magic circle appeared beneath his feet, expanding rapidly across the entire plain. The lines advanced beneath the ranks, weaving around each individual Valkyrie before uniting into a massive formation. Demonic runes, divine symbols, and marks of the Authority of Death appeared on the ground, constructing a network that connected every warrior directly to Vergil.

Some Valkyries looked down.

Others instinctively raised their weapons.

Brynhildr remained motionless, though her attention immediately focused on the structure of the spell. This was not merely a racial transformation; a pact was being prepared.

Vergil noticed.

"Before we begin, you all need to understand what I am about to do."

His voice was amplified by the magic itself, reaching even the rearmost ranks.

"I am going to establish a master-servant pact with each of you."

A murmur rippled through the formation.

The reaction was expected. They had just abandoned Asgard precisely because they were weary of living in servitude. Hearing that the first step in Sparda would be signing yet another pact with a king might well seem like a cruel joke.

Brynhildr stepped forward.

"You said you wouldn’t demand that our lives belong to you."

"And I won’t."

Vergil pointed to the circle beneath his feet. "The contract won’t force you to obey my every command, strip away your free will, or give me the right to treat any of you as property. It will create a direct connection between our souls."

Sigrun narrowed her eyes. "To what end?"

"To prevent betrayal."

Some of the Valkyries tensed.

Vergil made no attempt to soften his answer.

"I don’t know twelve thousand people individually. You’ve just broken with Odin, stolen artifacts from Asgard, and crossed over into my realm. I can trust Brynhildr, Sigrun, and a few of the leaders, but it would be foolish to assume that all twelve thousand of you would never consider selling information, opening routes to Asgard, or attacking Sparda from within."

He channeled the contract’s energy through the runes, causing the clauses to manifest in the air as symbols clear enough for everyone to sense directly.

"The pact prevents you from attempting to destroy Sparda, murdering its inhabitants, handing over military secrets to an enemy, or opening a path for anyone with hostile intent. It doesn’t force any of you to fight for me. It doesn’t stop you from leaving the realm. It doesn’t prevent you from refusing missions, abandoning the army, or disagreeing with my decisions."

Brynhildr studied the clauses for a few seconds.

"And the master-servant bond?"

"It is the most efficient structure I have to sustain a large-scale transformation. I need your souls to recognize me as the source of the new lineage. Once the change is complete, the contract’s scope will be reduced solely to the non-betrayal clauses."

Sigrun glanced at the ranks.

"And if someone refuses?"

Vergil answered without hesitation.

"She will be taken to a neutral realm before the Underworld’s miasma kills her. I won’t force anyone."

The murmuring died down.

The proposal still carried risk, but there was no ambiguity. Vergil made no secret of the fact that he required a guarantee. Nor did she attempt to use their need to compel total obedience.

Brynhildr turned to the army.

"You have heard the terms."

Communication runes carried her voice across the entire formation.

"The choice is yours alone. No sister will be punished for refusing."

Silence reigned for a few seconds.

Then, the first Valkyrie rested the tip of her spear against the ground.

"I accept."

Another echoed the words.

"I accept."

The response began to rise from the ranks—at first scattered, then in ever-growing groups. In less than a minute, twelve thousand voices declared their acceptance, creating a sound so powerful that the very plain vibrated.

Brynhildr knelt once more.

"I accept the pact."

Sigrun did the same.

"So do I."

Vergil clenched his hands.

"Then do not resist."

The magic circle activated.

Energy surged from the ground like a black wall, enveloping the entire formation at once. There was no way to conduct a process of that scale slowly. Vergil had to open his own soul and allow thousands of connections to be forged simultaneously. Each bond registered in his perception as a new thread, carrying fragments of identity, will, strength, and history.

The impact nearly made him lose his balance.

Twelve thousand souls.

Twelve thousand contracts.

Twelve thousand beings bound to the cycle of the dead—now being severed from Asgard’s authority and integrated into the lineage of an Aethernox.

Vergil gritted his teeth and held his ground.

The Valkyries felt the shift far more violently. Demonic energy poured into their bodies, encountering their divine nature; instead of destroying it, the energies began to merge. The Authority of Death served as a bridge, recognizing each of them as a warrior of the dead and preserving the original function of their souls even as their racial makeup was reconstructed.

Cries erupted from the ranks.

Not of fear.

Of pain.

Horns began to sprout from their foreheads, temples, and the sides of their heads. Some were small and curved backward. Others were long—black or gold—and etched with unique runes. Energy coursed through their armor, reshaping it to fit their new bodies as wings unfurled from their backs.

They were neither purely demonic nor purely divine wings.

Light-colored feathers mingled with dark membranes. Black skeletal structures supported wings bathed in golden light. Some Valkyries manifested four wings, others two, and the most powerful among them unfurled six—though all of them bore the same sacred-demonic signature. Their eyes changed as well. Some sclerae darkened, while others took on a divine glow; meanwhile, symbols of the new lineage appeared on their skin—near their hearts, at the nape of their necks, or between their wings.

The collective energy surged explosively.

The entire plain was engulfed in a storm of feathers, shadows, lightning, and demonic mana. The roots of Qliphoth stirred around the Bifröst, reacting to the creation of thousands of new members of Vergil’s race.

Deep within his mind, Qliphoth laughed with satisfaction.

"MORE DAUGHTERS! TWELVE THOUSAND DAUGHTERS ALL AT ONCE!"

Vergil ignored it.

It was already difficult enough to keep the connections from shattering his concentration without having to listen to the maddened tree celebrating as if it had received a gift.

The transformation took several minutes. When the energy finally began to subside, the Valkyries remained standing. Some were breathing heavily; others touched their own horns or flexed their new wings, trying to comprehend the change.

Vergil felt the contracts stabilize.

The bond of dominion was immediately reduced.

The Valkyries remained connected to his lineage, but the pressure of the master-servant dynamic lost almost all its force, persisting only in the clauses that prevented direct betrayal.

He lowered his arms.

"It is done."

Brynhildr slowly rose and spread her wings. Three were covered in white and gold feathers; the other three featured black membranes crisscrossed by silver lines. Two dark horns emerged above her temples, curving backward like a natural crown.

Sigrun possessed four wings—two of each type—and smaller horns that followed the contours of her head.

The two of them looked at each other.

Then, they looked at the rest of the army.

None of the Valkyries appeared to be dying. The miasma of the Underworld no longer sought to corrupt them. The realm’s energy flowed into their bodies naturally, while their divine essence endured, unsmothered.

Vergil took a deep breath.

Then, he raised his face.

"GWEN!"

The shadow beside him instantly parted.

A woman emerged, kneeling within the darkness; she wore black armor marked with the symbol of Sparda. Her long blue hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her eyes held the disciplined gleam of someone who needed no explanation as to why she had been summoned.

"My King."

Vergil gestured toward the twelve thousand new Aethernox.

"Help them all integrate into Sparda. Assign roles based on their individual skills, experiences, and preferences. Those who wish to remain warriors may join the army. Those who desire other professions are to receive training."

Gwen gazed out at the vast formation.

Her smile widened.

"Understood."

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

"If I hear a single complaint regarding housing, food, safety, or abuse of authority, you will be exterminated."

Gwen’s smile remained.

"As you command, Master."

She stood up and turned to the Valkyries, spreading her arms as if welcoming twelve thousand new inhabitants were a completely ordinary task.

"Come on, girls. I’ll show you the city, the temporary quarters, the training grounds, and the men you can scare when they ask stupid questions."

A few Valkyries laughed.

The formation began to break up into organized units. Gwen naturally took command, assigning the groups to Sparda’s officers, who were already approaching to assist. Freya went with them, mainly to help those still struggling with their new demonic nature.

Brynhildr and Sigrun remained behind.

The two of them waited beside Vergil as the last ranks headed toward the city.

He folded his wings.

His battle form began to fade.

His hair returned to its normal length, his horns receded, the armor of shadows dissolved, and the pressure of his Authorities was sealed back within his body.

As soon as it was over, Vergil’s vision darkened.

The ground seemed to tilt.

He took a half-step to the side, but Sapphire was already there. She wrapped an arm around his waist and steadied his chest before he could lose his balance.

"I’m fine," he said.

"You aren’t."

Vergil tried to pull away.

She tightened her hold.

"You used up almost all your energy, forged twelve thousand contracts simultaneously, and are still carrying the damage from the fight against Odin."

"I’ll recover."

Sapphire looked at the scar on his arm.

"Your body and soul are one and the same. Odin’s blows struck the very structure of your soul. Regenerating flesh doesn’t mean the damage is gone."

Vergil took a slow breath.

She was right.

He hated it when she was right.

"I’ll recover," he repeated, this time without trying to break free from her embrace. Sapphire accepted the answer, though she didn’t let go of him.

Sepphirothy approached Brynhildr and Sigrun.

"Can you two give me a full report on what happened in Asgard?"

Brynhildr nodded.

"Yes."

"I want to know about Odin, Thor, Heimdall, the uprising, and any information regarding Helheim."

Sigrun also inclined her head.

"We’ll explain everything."

Sepphirothy opened a portal to Sparda’s castle.

"Come with me."

The two Valkyries stepped through with her. The portal closed, leaving only Vergil, Sapphire, Lilith, and Neberius standing before the Bifröst.

Vergil remained leaning on Sapphire for a few seconds before managing to stand on his own.

He looked at the three of them.

"Was I too bold?"

Sapphire started to laugh.

It wasn’t a delicate laugh. She genuinely seemed to find the question absurd.

"My husband needs to be the strongest."

Vergil raised an eyebrow.

"Does that answer it?"

"You’re on the right track."

Lilith crossed her arms.

"It was reckless."

Vergil looked at her.

"But, considering the state of the Valkyries and what you brought back, it seems you did only what was necessary."

Neberius didn’t seem quite so convinced. She gazed at the spot where Astaroth had died.

"Why kill Astaroth?"

Vergil remained silent.

"He was a primordial demon," she continued. "An idiot, unpleasant, and useless in many situations—but he was still one of the Archdukes."

"I’d been wanting to get rid of him anyway."

Neberius frowned.

Vergil explained: "Astaroth was dead weight. He possessed power, but lacked the discipline, political vision, or loyalty to be useful. Killing him in front of the Valkyries served two purposes."

"Which ones?"

"Demonstrating strength and demonstrating loyalty."

Lilith smiled faintly.

She understood.

Vergil continued: "They needed to know I didn’t leave Asgard just to place them in another realm where they’d be treated the same way. Astaroth provided the perfect example."

Neberius let out a sigh.

"You turned an Archon into propaganda."

"Yes."

Sapphire readily agreed.

"Astaroth was long overdue for execution. Trading that lost demon for twelve thousand Valkyries is a far better deal."

Lilith turned her gaze toward the sky.

The Rainbow Bridge remained caught within the roots of the Qliphoth, illuminating the Demon Realm with colors that definitely didn’t belong there.

"What are we going to do with that thing?"

Vergil followed her gaze.

"Now we have the Bifröst and the Gjallarhorn."

"Yes."

"We can enter Helheim without relying on Heimdall, Odin, or any authorization from Asgard."

Lilith slowly turned her head.

"You did all this just to find a way to Helheim?"

Vergil shook his head.

"That was merely a side benefit."

Sapphire started laughing again.

"A side benefit."

Vergil ignored it.

"I figured taking Freya would cause trouble. I just didn’t expect to gain so much."

Sapphire looked at the bridge, then at Mjölnir strapped to his waist, at the Valkyries vanishing into the streets of Sparda, and at the Gjallarhorn that Brynhildr had taken.

"Bifröst, Gjallarhorn, Mjölnir, and twelve thousand Valkyries," she murmured. He turned his gaze toward his wife.

"You basically won the divine lottery."

Vergil looked out at the Demon Realm, illuminated by the Rainbow Bridge.

Then, he glanced at the scar left by Gungnir.

"It almost cost too much."

Mjölnir hummed happily at his waist.

Sapphire touched the hammer with a finger.

"But the girl seems pleased."

Vergil let out a soft laugh; even Sapphire had recognized the weapon’s identity, yet Thor hadn’t.

"More so than Thor."