Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1108

Chapter 1108: Seven Bodies, Seven of Us Chapter 1108: Seven Bodies, Seven of Us Villain Ch 1108.

Seven Bodies, Seven of Us Vivian’s eyes flicked between the corpses and her friends, her mind racing as she pieced it together.

“Seven bodies, seven of us,” she said, her tone quiet but charged with tension.

“What are the chances of that?” Allen stepped forward, his curiosity driving him closer to the throne, though every instinct told him to tread carefully.

His eyes swept over the throne itself, where the desiccated figure sat slouched in what must have once been a grand pose.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was connected to him, to the Devil Emperor, in ways he didn’t yet understand.

Jane, standing slightly apart from the others, was the first to voice what they were all thinking.

“I don’t like this place,” she muttered.

Her voice trembled slightly.

“It’s… wrong.

This feels worse than fighting that annoying Riftkeeper or dealing with the traps and ambushes.

It’s like this place is trying to tell us something.” Larissa spoke up.

“If these bodies are related to us, or to Allen…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze lingering on the throne.

“Then what happened to them?

Why are they here?

And what does that mean for us?” Zoe stood near the back, her eyes fixed on the corpses.

She didn’t need to say anything-the unease in her posture said it all.

The realization was sinking in for all of them now, the strange mirroring of their group, the feeling that they were walking into something far darker than a simple dungeon level.

Allen clenched his fists, fighting back the growing sense of dread.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low.

“But we need to find out.” Vivian’s voice broke the silence again, though this time there was a hard edge to it.

She gestured toward the throne.

“That thing hasn’t moved, but it feels like it’s watching us.” Allen nodded grimly, his eyes narrowing as he approached the throne.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that there was more to this ancient chamber than just decay and forgotten history.

“The throne… this is also similar to mine, back in the Cursed Crypts,” he announced.

The girls, who had been shifting uneasily behind him, grew even more tense at his words.

Their eyes darted between the throne, the corpses, and Allen, all of them on edge.

The comparison to the Cursed Crypts only heightened the sense of dread they all felt.

Allen continued to stare at the throne, studying every detail, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the meaning of what he was seeing.

Something about this place felt personal, as if it had been designed for him, but there was something else-something different that didn’t quite fit.

His eyes flicked toward the top of the throne, where the ornament rested.

“Wait…” he muttered, his brow furrowing as realization dawned on him.

“There’s something different.” The girls exchanged uneasy glances, each of them watching him carefully.

“What is it?” Jane asked, her voice filled with apprehension.

She was already uncomfortable with the strange, almost mirrored connection.

Allen pointed to the top of the throne, his expression darkening as he spoke.

“My throne… It had a crown ornament on top, something that resembled a medieval kingdom’s symbol.

This one, though…” He paused, his voice trailing off as he gestured toward the devilish symbol.

“This one has a devil symbol instead.” Jane’s eyes widened.

“So… this isn’t you?” she asked, the unease in her voice palpable.

Larissa frowned, her gaze fixed on the throne as well.

“This isn’t some future version of the Cursed Crypts, right?” She bit her lip, her voice betraying a rare hint of uncertainty.

“We’re not looking at what happens if-” “No,” Allen interrupted, his voice firm but calm.

“It doesn’t seem like it.

I’m not dead yet…

and in our agreements with the game developers, there’s no clause that says we have to give in.” That should’ve been reassuring, but the tension only thickened.

Curiosity still burning in his mind, Allen stepped forward, closer to the throne, his eyes drawn to the decaying figure.

The figure’s hand rested on the armrest of the throne, skeletal and still, but its presence radiated a sense of authority, even in death.

Allen reached out cautiously, his fingers brushing the edge of the robe.

His touch was tentative, expecting the brittle fabric to crumble under his fingertips.

But before he could pull away, something unexpected happened.

The corpse’s eyes-those hollow, empty sockets-suddenly glinted with a faint, eerie light.

Allen’s instincts kicked in immediately.

He tried to pull his hand back, but it was too late.

The corpse’s skeletal hand shot forward, faster than he could react, clamping around his wrist with a grip that felt impossibly strong for something so ancient.

Allen’s breath hitched as he realized he was trapped.

He prepared his skills to escape, using his Shadow Step.

The girls, their weapons already half-drawn from sheer instinct, were immediately on high alert.

Just as the girls began to move forward, weapons ready to strike, the corpse’s mouth opened.

A dry, rattling sound filled the chamber as it spoke, its voice ancient and brittle, like dead leaves crumbling underfoot.

“You… have come.” The girls froze, their weapons still raised but now unsure of whether to strike.

The corpse’s voice was slow, deliberate, as though it hadn’t spoken in centuries.

“Who are you?” Allen demanded, his voice steady, though his heart raced in his chest.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening.

The corpse’s head tilted slightly, its hollow eyes now glowing faintly as it fixed its gaze on Allen.

Its voice, dry and brittle, like bones grinding against each other, echoed through the chamber.

“I was the Devil Emperor,” it rasped.

“Did you forget?

You stole my power.” Allen frowned, his mind racing to catch up with the words that had just been spoken.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone sharp but cautious.

His fingers flexed instinctively, though he still couldn’t pull his hand from the corpse’s icy grip.  CREATORS’ THOUGHTS UnholyGod Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!

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