Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1362

Chapter 1362: Smut-horror Hybrid Chapter 1362: Smut-horror Hybrid Villain Ch 1362.

Smut-horror Hybrid Allen, however, stood motionless, his brain clearly short-circuiting as the chant repeated itself.

His mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but no words came out.

“Allen?” Zoe waved a hand in front of his face, smirking despite the unsettling situation.

“Boss?

You still with us?” she asked.

Concern filled her voice.

Allen didn’t answer.

His mind was in complete disarray, his thoughts spiraling into something he really, really didn’t want to analyze right now.

There was a part of him-his logical, rational side-that was absolutely disgusted by what he had just heard.

A pure maiden being forced to be both untouched and unbearably horny?

It was horrifying, twisted, something straight out of a nightmare.

But then there was the other part of him.

The smut harem writer inside him, the one who had spent years crafting outlandish fantasies filled with ridiculous scenarios, couldn’t help but acknowledge a single, disturbing thought… ‘This is actually a good idea.’ He bit his lip silently, suppressing a groan.

Horror and smut was a rare combination.

Sure, there were weird niche genres that played around with it, but a setting like this?

A cursed village, a desperate bride, mysterious chanting ghost priests?

This had depth.

It had the kind of forbidden tension that could make for a ridiculously compelling smut-horror hybrid.

And yet, Allen had to admit-this was way too heavy on the horror side.

Smut stories were usually laced with comedic elements, over-the-top misunderstandings, and absurd yet charming scenarios.

This?

This was pure nightmare fuel with a side of ‘What the hell is wrong with people?’ He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

‘So does this mean me and Emma are the same?’ It wasn’t like he had ever thought much about where Emma’s chaotic creativity came from, but now that he was standing in the middle of her nightmare scenario, he had to face the possibility.

Was he supposed to feel proud?

Horrified?

He honestly didn’t know.

Before he could process any further, movement in the corner of his eye snapped him back to reality.

The figures-the chanting, transparent priests-were moving.

Not toward them, not in an aggressive stance, but they were coming closer.

Allen’s body tensed on instinct, his fingers twitching.

The girls immediately took their attack stances, weapons ready, eyes sharp.

“Here we go,” Shea muttered, wings shifting as she prepared to strike.

But then- The figures passed through them.

Allen felt nothing, no impact, no pushback, just a brief, unsettling chill as they drifted right through his body like mist.

The chants didn’t stop, their hollow voices still echoing in the air.

The priests moved as if they hadn’t noticed Allen or the girls at all, continuing their march forward, repeating the same twisted hymn.

Allen and the girls loosened their stances, slowly turning around to watch where the figures were going.

“What the hell?” Jane whispered.

“They just… ignored us?” “They’re stuck in a loop,” Alice said, her gaze narrowed.

“It’s like they’re playing out something that’s already happened.

A memory.” The figures kept walking, their robes barely moving as they glided across the ruined floor.

Allen exhaled, shaking his head before saying, “I guess that was our cue to follow them.” The girls exchanged glances, nodding in agreement, and immediately started following.

They trailed behind the spectral priests, their boots making far more noise than the ghosts themselves.

The chanting never wavered, the words digging into their minds like an unwanted melody.

They moved quickly, trying to keep up, but then- The figures vanished.

One second they were there, and the next-gone.

“What-?” Bella stopped, eyes darting around.

“Where the hell did they go?” “They were heading this way,” Larissa said, pointing toward a large, worn-out door up ahead.

The group moved toward it, the ancient wood barely hanging onto rusted hinges.

A faded sign above it read Medicine Room in old, peeling letters.

“Well,” Allen said, staring at the sign.

“I guess this is where they came from.” “Medicine Room?” Vivian repeated, tilting her head.

“What, like a hospital wing?” “Could be,” Shea said.

“Or something worse.” “Everything in this place is ‘or something worse,'” Zoe muttered.

Allen stepped forward, pushing open the heavy door.

It groaned against the movement, scraping against the stone floor as it revealed a dimly lit chamber inside.

The moment they stepped in, the air changed.

It was heavier, damp with something they didn’t want to name.

The room was filled with an old, broken bed, rusted IV stands, and scattered papers that had long since yellowed with age.

Glass bottles were tipped over on shelves, their contents dried into unrecognizable stains.

But what made them all stop in their tracks was the large iron operating table in the center of the room.

Chains hung loosely from its sides.

Blood-fresh blood-dripped down onto the floor.

And carved into the metal surface, in deep, jagged letters, was a message.

“THE BRIDE MUST BE CLEANSED.” A heavy silence fell over the group.

“Okay,” Bella said, her voice unnervingly cheerful.

“I vote we leave.” “We’re not leaving,” Allen said, his voice cold.

His eyes locked onto the message, his mind racing.

“This is where they brought her,” Alice murmured, stepping closer.

“The pure maiden.

This is where they ‘purified’ her.” Vivian scoffed, crossing her arms.

“What the hell does ‘purified’ even mean?

Because from what I’ve seen so far, I really don’t want to know.” Larissa narrowed her eyes at the iron table.

“Something tells me it wasn’t pleasant.” “You think?” Zoe shot back.

“There’s literally fresh blood on it.

Fresh.

How the hell is it still fresh?” “Residual magic?” Alice guessed, her fingers brushing over the cold metal.

“Or maybe something is still happening here.

Even now.” Allen clenched his fists, his gut twisting with something close to anger.

“Maybe it’s the Great Lord,” he muttered.

The girls didn’t argue.

Instead, they stood in that room, surrounded by the ghosts of something far darker than they had anticipated.  CREATORS’ THOUGHTS UnholyGod Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!

Thank you, Leech_95 for the spacecraft!

Thank you, William_Tex for the gifts!

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