Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1486

Chapter 1486: You Beat a Tower Not Me
Villain Ch 1486. You Beat a Tower Not Me

The emperor’s words weren’t shouted. They didn’t echo across the plaza like a spell. No, the Devil Emperor didn’t need theatrics to command attention. His voice was calm, deliberate—laced with quiet threat and absolute certainty. Like he knew something the rest of them hadn’t figured out yet.

And damn if it didn’t work.

Arcana stood frozen, his hand still half-raised from telling his guild not to attack. He was watching the man—no, the thing—that had once ruled Ront City with an iron grip and a smirk. And now he was just standing there, like this was his stage and the world had merely borrowed it for a little while.

“You’ve got some nerve showing your face,” Gil growled, his fingers twitching near the hilt of his weapon.

The Devil Emperor turned his head slightly, eyes glinting like molten amber. “I could say the same. But you came into my city first.”

“It’s not yours anymore,” Arcana said, stepping forward calmly, squaring his shoulders.

“Oh? And yet you’ve barely finished cleaning up,” Allen replied, casually motioning to the city core behind them. “Thirty-one percent… a fragile flame in a storm. And storms always come back, don’t they?”

Before anyone could respond, the air shimmered around him again. Not an attack. Not a skill. Just… presence.

They appeared without fanfare—floating above the plaza like beautiful, deadly ghosts. Seven women, stunning as they were terrifying. Their feet didn’t touch the ground, their expressions unreadable.

Larissa’s crimson eyes flicked across the players below.

Zoe hovered near Allen, arms crossed and watching with the detached amusement of a queen overseeing lesser nobles.

Vivian licked her lips lazily, like she was already tasting the fear in the air.

“His companions are here too,” Erenblade muttered under his breath, barely audible.

“Careful,” Red_King warned, voice low. “They’re not just decoration. Every one of them can wipe a raid.”

“I know,” muttered Erenblade.

Father^Alex’s staff glowed faintly, his grip tight, though he didn’t raise it. He just whispered, “Are we going to fight them now?”

“Relax, healer. I’m not here to fight you.” Allen’s grin widened as he finally looked back at Arcana. “This is that part where the villain gives the heroes a little pat on the back—makes it way more satisfying when everything goes to hell.”

“It will be funnier if the credits start rolling,” muttered Gil, half joking.

“You really think this is a game to you?” Azura said sharply, stepping closer.

Allen tilted his head slightly. “It is. A beautiful, brutal, addictive game. And you’re all doing wonderfully, by the way.”

Mastercraft actually took a step forward, voice sharp. “You think this is funny?”

Allen shrugged. “I think it’s fun.”

“You lost,” Arcana said firmly. “No spin, no speech changes that. We beat you.”

“You beat a tower,” Allen corrected, tone still maddeningly calm. “Not me. Don’t get confused.”

Behind him, Jane smirked. “We let them have it, didn’t we?”

“Of course,” Shea chimed in, plucking one of the strings on her harp idly. “His Majesty said he wanted to see what they’d do with a win.”

“Should we take it back now?” Alice asked sweetly, twirling on her broom in lazy circles.

Allen held up a single finger. “Not yet. Let them finish putting up the furniture first.”

Vivian leaned forward, making eye contact with Elio, her smile wicked. “Didn’t His Majesty just kill you in the Hall of Silence?”

Elio’s jaw clenched, but he stayed silent.

The silence after that was thick. Players watching from the edges of the plaza were whispering among themselves. Was this a warning? A declaration of war? Or just the Devil Emperor showing off?

Arcana didn’t flinch. “This city is under our protection now. You come back with intent to fight—”

Allen cut him off with a chuckle. “You’ll what? Kick me out again?” He turned slightly, arms outstretched to the crowd. “I don’t need to fight you to make you lose.”

Zoe floated a little lower, arms still crossed. “You all really think this is the end of the story?”

Azura narrowed her eyes. “It’s the end of your reign.”

“That’s the problem with heroes,” Allen said, slowly pacing toward the fountain in the middle of the square. “You think victory is permanent. That just because the light’s back, the dark won’t return.”

“And you think darkness is some kind of aesthetic?” Arcana snapped. “You’re just another edgy NPC who thinks being cryptic makes you scary.”

The Devil Emperor stopped, one hand resting on the edge of the fountain, the shadows curling faintly around his fingers. His voice dropped lower, smooth and laced with menace.

“Do you think I’m just an NPC?” he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly, eyes gleaming like coals. “A scripted villain, bound by code and system triggers?”

The silence thickened, players holding their breath.

“Or am I…” he continued, his smile stretching slowly, unnervingly, “something else entirely? A ghost in your machine… a whisper in the world you thought you understood. Tell me, Arcana—how do you fight something that’s not supposed to exist?”

His girls hovered silently behind him like wraiths, all eyes watching the Legion. No movement. No aggression. Just pressure—pure, suffocating presence.

Alex finally spoke again, voice barely audible. “Why not finish it now?”

Allen turned his gaze toward the shy healer, and—for just a second—the smirk faded.

“Because the game just got interesting again,” the Devil Emperor said quietly. “And interesting games shouldn’t be rushed.”

Then, with an almost casual grace, he reached into the folds of his dark coat and pulled out a small, swirling orb. Dark energy pulsed inside it like a heart made of shadow—the Orb of Abyssal Enhancement. Its power was unmistakable, even from a distance. The players felt it before they fully saw it—the weight of something ancient, dangerous, and utterly wrong for their world.

He held it up between two fingers, studying it for a brief moment like it was nothing more than candy. Then, with a grin curling his lips, he crushed it in his palm.

The orb didn’t break.

It imploded.

Dark tendrils of energy burst out, swirling around him in violent spirals, screaming like lost souls as they were pulled into his body. His coat flared, the shadows around him deepening, thickening, pulsing like a second skin. His aura exploded outward in a wave, slamming into the watching players like a pressure wall. A few lower-leveled ones staggered back. Some dropped to their knees. Even the elite braced.

And then came the laughter.

Deep. Echoing. Menacing.