Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1441

Chapter 1441: Bound in Chains, Betrayed by Knowledge
Villain Ch 1441. Bound in Chains, Betrayed by Knowledge

Shea huffed a laugh. “Figures.”

Jane shook her head. “I still can’t believe they really thought they could use you to fight the Emperor.”

Zoe crossed her arms. “Yeah, that was their first mistake.”

Allen chuckled, stretching his arms. “Oh, don’t worry. They paid for it.”

The lead scientist staggered backward, his once-unwavering composure shattering as the air around him warped.

“No—this isn’t—this wasn’t supposed to happen!”

The other researchers scrambled, their hands frantically reaching for control panels, containment spells—anything to undo what they had done.

But it was too late.

The woman lifted her hand.

The entire room shook. Chains that once bound her lashed out, moving on their own, wrapping around the scientists who had tormented her, their once-glowing runes now carved with her curse.

The air was filled with panicked screams, the sound of metal crushing against bone, of arcane flesh unraveling as her magic twisted and reshaped everything it touched.

She did not just kill them.

She cursed them.

Their souls would never know peace.

Their final moments of agony would be trapped in this facility forever, repeating again and again, the whispers, the sobs, the echoes of pain—all remnants of her vengeance.

And the facility itself—the very walls that had imprisoned her, the halls that had carried her suffering—she cursed those, too.

No light would ever shine within this place again. No hope. No redemption.

She moved toward the arcane machine that had tried to force open the Devil Emperor’s domain.

And she broke it.

With a single flick of her fingers, a dark pulse of magic surged through the machinery, the runes combusting, the abyssal energy backfiring in a way that warped reality itself.

The rift collapsed, but it did not close cleanly. It scarred the world instead.

A wound that would never fully heal. She still loved the world she had once tried to save. She still believed in the beauty of magic, the potential of knowledge, the wonders that could exist outside of greed and power.

But she knew.

She knew what she had become.

A monster.

The air shuddered, the last remnants of magic crackling like dying embers. The facility was dead—cursed, rotting, consumed by her wrath—but the weight of what had happened here still hung in the air, thick, suffocating, inescapable.

A chuckle came. Low. Mocking. Dripping with amusement, yet filled with something too knowing, too cruel, too entertained.

The witch stiffened.

Her glowing eyes snapped upward, seeking the source.

And there— Perched atop the ruined gate, as if the throne of a failed empire belonged to him— The Devil Emperor.

He lounged lazily, one leg propped up, an elbow resting against the fractured metal, watching her like she was some amusing curiosity rather than a force that had just torn this place apart.

His smile was slow, dangerous, filled with something that was neither kindness nor cruelty, but something far worse.

Pity.

She hated it instantly.

“Now, this,” he murmured, crimson eyes glinting in the flickering abyssal light, “is a tragedy.”

The witch’s jaw clenched, her body shifting into a defensive stance. “And what,” she spat, “do you think is so tragic?”

The Devil Emperor sighed dramatically, tilting his head, the faint glow of hellfire flickering at his fingertips. “That’s an easy one,” he mused. “You.”

Her fingers twitched, the air crackling as raw magic coiled around her wrists. “Choose your next words carefully, Emperor.”

He laughed. Soft. Taunting. Then he vanished.

Before she could react, the space in front of her distorted, and he was there—right in front of her, close enough that she could feel the unnatural warmth of his presence, the scent of sulfur and something darker, something intoxicatingly dangerous.

He leaned in slightly, voice silk and sin. “If I didn’t know any better,” he murmured, “I’d say you almost sound like you’re still fighting for them.”

Her expression darkened. “I am fighting for myself.”

He hummed. “Are you?”

Her magic flared, the energy sparking against the ground, burning into the cracked floor. “Don’t test me, demon.”

His grin widened. “Oh, but I can’t help it,” he purred. “Because you’re fascinating.”

She hated how smooth his voice was, how he spoke like he had already won. She lifted her chin, her gaze cold. “Spare me whatever game you’re playing, Emperor.”

He didn’t react. Didn’t waver. Just tilted his head slightly, observing her with an almost lazy amusement. Then he whispered, “They’ll hunt you.”

She froze.

His smirk grew sharper, sensing the hesitation. “You know I’m right. They always do.”

She said nothing.

“You think the world will let you exist like this?” he continued, voice silky, slow, lethal. “You, the witch, the woman who broke their precious project? Oh no.” He tutted, shaking his head. “They’ll call you an abomination, a mistake. A reminder of their sins.”

Her fists tightened.

He leaned in just enough to lower his voice, the next words dripping with something almost gentle. Almost. “And you still love them.”

Her breath hitched.

His smirk was devastating. “That’s what makes it so sad.”

A flicker of pain crossed her expression, so fast that it could have been imagined. But he saw it. Of course he saw it. The Devil Emperor never missed weakness.

Her hands trembled, but her voice remained steel. “I don’t need your pity.”

His chuckle was low, dark, and far too amused. “Oh, I don’t pity you.” He took a step closer, his presence drowning out the cold of the ruined facility, suffocating in its intensity. “I want you.”

Her eyes narrowed.

He grinned. “They’ll hunt you,” he repeated, tilting his head. “Or…” His voice lowered, intimate, inviting. “You could come with me and hunt them.”

She went still. For the first time since her rebirth, she felt something dangerously close to uncertainty. “I don’t need you,” she said, but it wasn’t as sharp as before.

He smirked. “You sure?”

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay guarded, to resist whatever web of words he was spinning. “What would you gain from this?”

He chuckled. “A witch.”

She scoffed, glaring.

But his smile remained. And his eyes never lied. “Come with me,” he murmured, his voice carrying a promise and a curse, “and the world that betrayed you?” His crimson gaze burned into her soul. “We’ll make it kneel.”