Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1473

Chapter 1473: The Devil’s List
Villain Ch 1473. The Devil’s List

Erenblade didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Not because of lag. Not because of a stun. Just… that pressure.

It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into a swirling, bottomless void—and the void grinned back. The Devil Emperor wasn’t rushing. He just stood there, tilted slightly to the side, like he was observing something curious behind a glass display. One gloved hand on his sword. The other hanging loose, as if he hadn’t decided yet whether he was going to destroy you or let you entertain him for a while.

The air around them was thick, oppressive. Dungeon mist coiled tighter, twisted unnaturally, clinging to Eren’s legs like cold, invisible chains.

Then the Emperor spoke.

“Ah…” he said in that smooth, unsettlingly casual tone. “I found a new toy.”

The words rolled over Eren like silk soaked in venom. His instincts screamed move! but he didn’t. Not yet. His grip tightened around the hilt of his rapier.

He didn’t want to run.

Couldn’t.

No—he refused.

The Emperor came to him. That had to mean something.

There were rumors. Not system messages, not official mechanics—just whispered forum threads and survivor tales. That the Devil Emperor didn’t bother with just anyone. He didn’t waste his time unless you were worth it.

Elio said it to him once. That when the Devil Emperor used his blade instead of drowning you in AOE hell and straight came to you, it wasn’t mercy. It was a test.

And somehow… Eren had qualified.

His name had entered the Devil’s list.

The others had backed off—some literally bolted from the area, others still frozen in place, watching from behind rocks and barriers.

Zoe and the other girls were still dismantling what was left of the other raid groups, but they didn’t interfere. This part was sacred.

A one-on-one with the Emperor? That was legend-tier.

The Devil Emperor stepped forward, blade scraping slowly across the stone floor, the sound deliberate—like a knife dragged over glass.

“Show me,” he said simply. “If you’re going to wear that smug little look and walk in Mac’s footsteps… show me why.”

That was all the warning Eren got.

The Devil Emperor moved.

‘Fast.’

But not just fast—perfect. His movement was clean, smooth, like watching death itself weave through the air. His blade came down in a heavy, deliberate arc, not flashy, not overcompensating. Just the kind of cut that said, “Block this or die.”

Eren parried by instinct. Metal clashed. Sparks flew. His arms nearly went numb from the force.

Immediately, he activated Blade Mirage.

His form split into flickering images, zigzagging to the side. The Emperor didn’t hesitate—he turned and slashed again, but the blade missed by inches.

Eren ducked and rolled, appearing behind him in a blur, thrusting with Piercing Waltz—three rapid, armor-piercing jabs that shimmered with faint blue light.

-Clink! Clink! Clang!

The first two found purchase—barely. The third? Deflected. Cleanly.

The Devil Emperor spun around with the grace of someone who’d danced through hundreds of battles. A sideways swing met Eren’s blade mid-motion, locking them for a heartbeat.

“Not bad,” the Emperor said. “But you’re still thinking too much.”

Eren grunted, forcing the lock apart and dashing back with Lunar Lunge, his rapier glowing as it streaked in a narrow beam across the space between them.

The Devil Emperor slid back a step. His cape flared as he raised a hand—Barrier flared into existence just in time to stop the piercing dash. The shield cracked under the pressure but held.

Eren landed, breathing harder now, sweat beading under his helm.

He wasn’t winning.

But he wasn’t dead yet either.

“You’re testing me,” Eren said.

The Devil Emperor tilted his head. “Obviously.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know. I need to know how far you will go…”

The words sent a chill through him. Somehow that was more terrifying than if the Emperor had just decided to incinerate him with Hellfire Rain.

Another exchange.

The Emperor launched forward again—this time without any flashy moves, just raw, practiced bladework. His strikes were precise, brutal, unforgiving. Eren countered with Silver Riposte, narrowly catching one blow and stabbing forward with a critical strike to the exposed side.

It didn’t hit. But almost.

The Emperor chuckled.

“You do have some bite.”

But then came the follow-up. Eren saw his hand move and barely had time to react before he was blasted backward by Telekinesis Blast, slamming into a stone column. HP chunked down hard.

He rolled, ignoring the sting, and triggered Judgment Bloom.

Light flared around him—sharp, focused stabs radiating from his rapier in every direction like a blooming flower of death.

The Devil Emperor leapt backward effortlessly.

Then, he smirked—and raised his hand again.

“Don’t get cocky.”

And suddenly the floor cracked—Demonic Orbs hovered in a loose pattern, pulsing with unstable energy, then shot toward Eren one after another. He rolled, ducked, parried, leapt. One hit clipped him. Another exploded behind him.

He was getting shredded.

Adrenaline flooded his veins. Every nerve screamed. He activated Blade Mirage again, weaving between strikes.

He wasn’t fighting just for pride anymore. He was fighting for acknowledgement.

Somewhere, deep down, he wanted to earn that look. That smirk. That spark in the Devil Emperor’s eye. He wanted to be seen.

And for one brief moment, as their blades clashed again in a brilliant flare of steel-on-steel, he felt it.

Recognition.

“You’re stubborn,” the Devil Emperor said with something close to… satisfaction.

“You wanted a fight,” Eren panted. “You got one.”

The Emperor raised a brow. “You’re still green. But…”

Another slash. Eren dodged by inches, using the momentum to stab toward the Emperor’s shoulder—but again, it was deflected.

“…you might be worth watching.”

Then, without warning, the shadows under Eren screamed—and Abyssal Descent activated, not full force, but enough to make the ground quake and the dungeon tremble.

Screams echoed from every direction as the rest of the raid groups fell apart. The Hall of Silence was no longer a raid zone. It was a graveyard. The players around him died.

Eren dropped to one knee. HP bar flashing.

Everything ached.

The Emperor stood over him, sword lowered, but not striking.

“You’ve got a long way to go,” he said.