CHAPTER 175: CHAPTER 174: THE GATES BURST & CHAOS IN THE AISLES

The chapel smelled of blood roses, candlewax, and impending lawsuits.

Obsidian arches loomed high above, carved into grotesque figures of demons kissing angels while holding contracts written in blood. The aisle was lined with crimson silk and black petals that whispered when stepped on, like they wanted to gossip about the poor groom.

Rei Velvet sat at the front, bound by enchanted ribbons to a chair that had more locks than a prison wagon. His face carried the hollow expression of a man whose every escape plan had failed.

[Quest Progress: The Demon Wedding.]

[Status: Active.]

[Sub-Objective: "Stay Calm While Strapped to a Doom Chair."]

[Progress: 0%.]

[You look calm... for a dead man walking.]

At the altar, Velveria Nightshade—Demon Lord Supreme, Queen of Chaos, and little sister from hell—stood radiant. Her gown shimmered like night itself stitched together with lightning. Her veil flowed behind her like a shadow with too much personality.

She smiled down at Rei, her fangs glinting. "Brother dearest. Your face looks deliciously pale. The perfect shade for a groom of doom."

Rei croaked. "That’s not how weddings work."

"Everything works," Velveria purred, "when I say ’I do.’"

The Headmaster, assigned officiant, peeked nervously from behind his barrier spells. His voice quavered. "W-we are gathered here today, in this grand Academy hall, to witness the... uh... u-union of..." He coughed, tugging at his collar. "...Velveria Nightshade, and Rei Velvet..."

He paused, eyes darting to Rei, who mouthed silently: Help me.

The Headmaster shook his head quickly: Nope. Then whispered: "I need the hazard pay."

Rei tugged at his ribbons. They tightened, making him squeak.

Velveria raised her hand, silencing the room with infernal authority. "Let us proceed. I am ready to claim what is mine."

The guests—demons, nobles, terrified professors—clapped weakly, like condemned prisoners trying to be polite.

The Headmaster swallowed hard. "Do you, Velveria Nightshade, take Rei Velvet as your lawfully bound—"

The words were cut short by an explosion.

The chapel’s massive double doors blew off their hinges in a shower of fire, ice, and pure yandere rage. The shockwave shattered stained glass windows, scattering fragments like rainbow shrapnel. Guests screamed, ducking under benches.

Out of the dust and smoke stormed five furious figures.

Lilia, in holy battle regalia, her bridal gown glowing with sanctified runes. She rode astride a celestial stag wreathed in light, her staff blazing brighter than the sun. "STOP THIS UNHOLY UNION!"

Seraphina, wings spread wide, descended like divine vengeance on a phoenix familiar that screeched flames. Her halo tilted aggressively, crackling with unstable heavenly energy. "I WILL STRIKE HER DOWN!"

Drakana, in armor-threaded bridal silk, crashed through on her dragon steed, flames roaring from its throat. "THIS GROOM IS MINE, DEMON WITCH!"

Emilia, dressed in stitched ribbons of white and crimson, rode atop a massive mechanical wolf she’d apparently built overnight, scissors gleaming like guillotines. "OVER MY DEAD BODY!"

Rosette? She simply walked, silent as a shadow, veil fluttering. There was no steed, nor noise—only an aura that whispered death. Somehow, that was scarier.

The five of them lined up at the back of the chapel like avenging angels of obsession.

The audience collectively gasped, then screamed, then trampled each other to escape.

Velveria merely sipped from her skull goblet, utterly unfazed. "Oh, how predictable. The jealous harem crashes the party."

Lilia raised her staff. A blast of holy light shot down the aisle, aimed squarely at Velveria.

Velveria flicked her wrist, deflecting the beam into the pews. The benches combusted. Guests screamed louder.

Drakana launched dragonfire across the aisle. Seraphina countered with a wall of divine flame, the two infernos colliding and blowing a hole in the roof. Ash and flower petals rained down.

Emilia leapt from her wolf, scissors slicing the air, each cut severing decorations, drapes, even a demon noble’s toupee.

Rosette? Rosette didn’t move. She simply looked at the chandeliers—and they snapped, crashing down toward Velveria like spiked guillotines.

Velveria caught one midair with a single hand, tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing. Her smile sharpened. "Do you all intend to ruin my brother’s special day? How inconsiderate."

Rei, trapped in his chair, shrieked. "IT WAS ALREADY RUINED THE MOMENT IT STARTED!"

[System Alert]

[Wedding Atmosphere: -200%.]

[Survivability: 3%.]

[It’s the worst wedding ever recorded in history.]

The aisle became a warzone. Exploding bouquets detonated like magical grenades, showering shrapnel of thorns. Dragon fire licked the walls. Holy lightning split the floor. Poison-laced petals rained from Rosette’s bouquet.

And in the middle of it all—Rei. The Groom Chair skidded back and forth as explosions rocked the chapel. Every blast sent him bouncing like a pinball between pillars. His restraints glowed hotter, cutting into his wrists.

"WHY AM I ALWAYS IN THE MIDDLE?!" Rei screamed, barely dodging a flying candelabra.

[Because you’re the main character.]

[Congratulations on your narrative suffering.]

His chair slammed into the altar, spinning him around until he was dizzy.

Velveria knelt beside him, brushing soot from his cheek with a tender smile. "Don’t worry, brother. I’ll protect you."

"You’re the one I need protecting from!" Rei wailed.

At the far end, the Headmaster trembled behind his glowing wards. With a shout, he slammed his staff, activating emergency barriers around the entire chapel.

"CEASE THIS AT ONCE! I INVOKE THE ANCIENT CLAUSE OF PEACEFUL MATRIMONY!"

For two glorious seconds, the shields held. The chaos dimmed. Light shimmered in hopeful silence.

Then Drakana sneezed dragonfire. Seraphina countered with holy flame. Emilia hurled scissors at both. Rosette released a shadow dagger. Lilia smote the altar with divine wrath.

The wards shattered instantly, fragments of broken magic raining like glass.

The Headmaster collapsed to his knees. "I... I tried." He began digging his own grave with his staff.

[Emergency Wards: Offline.]

[Wedding Stability: 0%.]

[Even insurance won’t cover this ceremony.]

The pews burned. The roof smoked. The guests fled in droves, trampling each other as they fought to escape through broken windows. The orchestra continued to play out of contractual obligation, but their instruments sounded more like screams.

At the center of it all, six brides—and one unwilling groom—stood poised for battle.

Velveria hovered by the altar, obsidian gown flowing, power radiating like a storm. Lilia’s staff blazed. Seraphina’s wings burned. Drakana’s claws flexed. Emilia’s scissors clinked. Rosette’s veil drifted in the air like a shroud.

Rei, bound and pale, sat in the Groom Chair of Doom, utterly doomed.

The chapel floor cracked under the pressure of clashing auras, the aisle transformed into a battlefield of love, war, and very bad wedding planning.

[Event Confirmed: Bridal War Zone.]

[Objective: Survive the Ceremony.]

[Bonus Objective: Don’t Get Divorced Before You’re Married.]

[Time to pick your poison—bride, that is.]

And so, the wedding aisle became the frontlines of the apocalypse.

The war for the groom had begun. The chaos did not stop at flaming pews and broken wards—it escalated.

Demon nobles trampled each other toward the side exits, but half the doors had already melted shut under dragonfire. A portly baron tried to crawl through a stained-glass window, only to get wedged halfway, his jeweled backside wriggling in panic.

The orchestra, bound by magical contract, desperately shifted tunes—trying to drown out screams with cheerful wedding marches. Their violins screeched as dragon claws tore across strings. The harpist fainted face-first into her instrument, producing one long, tragic "twang."

Rei, meanwhile, was dragged across the aisle as the Groom Chair slid back and forth like a runaway minecart.

"STOP THROWING FIRE AT EACH OTHER! THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE!" he screamed, narrowly ducking as a holy lance and a demonic spike whizzed past his head—only to collide midair and explode in a heart-shaped fireball.

Velveria’s smile widened. "Adorable. Even the collateral damage approves of our union."

"THE FIREBALL IS LITERALLY SHAPED LIKE A HEART BECAUSE IT WANTS ME DEAD!" Rei shrieked.

[Collateral Damage: 92%.]

[Survival Rate: 1.7%.]

[Don’t worry, the afterlife has great catering.]

At the back, Seraphina’s phoenix dived, scattering flames that ignited every bouquet in the chapel. Emilia, not to be outdone, hurled a scissor so large it cleaved through two pews and pinned a demon duke’s cape to the wall.

Drakana and Lilia clashed in the center, dragonfire roaring against holy light, each determined to push the other back. Their power cracked the marble floor, creating glowing fissures that looked like hell itself was trying to RSVP.

Rosette finally moved—only to vanish into the shadows. Guests who lingered too long at the edges suddenly dropped unconscious, poisoned by invisible needles. Rei spotted her veil glimmering faintly in the rafters and screamed, "SOMEONE CHECK THE CEILING! SHE’S DOING HER HORROR MOVIE ROUTINE!"

But no one listened.

The Headmaster crawled behind the altar, clutching a flask of emergency brandy. "I should’ve retired last year... they begged me to officiate... said it would be ’prestigious’... THEY LIED..."

Velveria floated above the chaos, raising her hands like a conductor. "Yes, play louder, fight harder. Every war drum is but a wedding bell to my ears."

"YOU’RE INSANE!" Rei shouted.

She looked down at him tenderly. "No, brother. I’m in love."

[Bridal War Zone fully active.]

[Apocalypse Wedding Level: MAX.]

[Mazel tov.]

The battlefield was drawn between six women and one groom. And this chapel-turned-warzone.

The chandeliers swung like execution blades, pews blazed like funeral pyres, the air thick with smoke, perfume, and blood roses. Guests who hadn’t escaped were hiding under tables, betting on who would win.

And at the center, Rei Velvet—bound, trembling, sarcastically cursed—sat at ground zero of history’s worst wedding.

The war for the groom had only just begun.

To be continued...