Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1545

Chapter 1545: Why Couldn’t We Have Just Died With Dignity
Villain Ch 1545. Why Couldn’t We Have Just Died With Dignity

The golden head sighed so loudly it shook the remaining braziers on the walls.

“Our glorious legacy is in ruins.”

“Because of him.”

Bella hopped up onto a broken piece of pillar and perched herself casually. “Technically, you lost to the devil emperor first. So, y’know, small victories.”

Allen chuckled, feeling some of the battle tension finally leave his muscles.

He stepped forward, tapping the blade of his sword lightly against his shoulder. “Alright, listen up.”

The three heads snapped their gazes toward him, all different shades of attention—respectful, calculating, and cheerfully oblivious.

“You’re mine now. My servant. My responsibility,” Allen said, voice steady as iron. “You’re not bound to mindless orders. You’ll fight with me, not for me. Got it?”

The golden head lifted higher, glaring down at him like a king forced to bow to a street rat. Its voice rumbled low with disdain.

“We owe you nothing, mortal.”

The red-eyed head growled in agreement, voice sharp as a snapped blade.

“Victory in battle does not make you our sovereign. We kneel to no one.”

The derpy head wiggled excitedly, completely missing the mood.

“I kneel! I kneel! Where do I kneel? Is it snack time?!”

Allen arched an eyebrow, utterly unamused. His aura flared subtly, the remnants of the Pact binding crackling like a warning across the air.

“You’re bound,” Allen said coolly. “You can grumble, you can whine, but you accepted the pact when you took that second breath. Or did you want me to chain you like some mindless beast instead?”

A pulse of dark power rippled outward as if emphasizing the choice.

The golden head bared its fangs, grumbling deep in its throat.

“Tch.”

The red-eyed one muttered, grinding its massive teeth.

“This indignity will be remembered.”

For a tense moment, it looked like they might resist—pride thick in the air like smoke.

Then the golden head huffed out a long breath, smoke trailing from its nostrils, and finally dipped its crown slightly, though every motion screamed reluctance.

“Accepted.”

The red-eyed head followed after a long, glowering pause, bowing a fraction lower.

“Acknowledged. For now.”

Allen exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing.

He didn’t need their friendship. He didn’t need their worship.

He just needed them to stand with him.

Then—because the universe apparently couldn’t let the moment stay serious—the derpy head bounced in place, tongue lolling happily.

“Yay! I said yes first! Does that mean I get double cookies now?!”

Allen wiped a hand down his face, dragging it over his mouth to hide the short bark of exhausted laughter that escaped him.

Vivian cackled in the background, clapping once. “God, Allen, you really are cursed.”

Jane chimed in, grinning wide. “Technically, you swore in a talking cookie addict. That’s on you, boss.”

Zoe just shook her head slowly like she was already regretting her life choices.

Allen sheathed his sword, giving the three-headed dragon a hard, level stare. “We’ll work out cookie distribution later.”

The derpy head gasped dramatically.

“Bargaining?! Is this… the legendary cookie negotiation I’ve heard about??!”

The golden head muttered darkly under its breath.

“Why couldn’t we have just died with dignity.”

The red-eyed head snorted softly.

“Because destiny is cruel. And so, apparently, is our new master.”

Allen just chuckled low in his throat, rolling his aching shoulders.

“Get used to it,” he said simply.

And somehow, despite everything—the blood, the pain, the absurdity— It felt right.

This was his throne now.

And these maniacs?

They were his.

Allen dragged a hand through his messy hair, still catching his breath.

The throne—the monstrous, towering throne of the Abyss—stood waiting at the far end of the chamber. Dark, gleaming, imposing.

Naturally, the first person to get there wasn’t Allen.

It was Alice.

The witch huffed, adjusting her wide-brimmed hat that was half-burned at the edges. With a very determined stomp-stomp-stomp of her boots, she walked right up to the enormous throne, eyed it once, then clambered up onto it—looking hilariously small against the massive, spiked seat.

Alice plopped herself onto the middle of the seat and immediately sank back into the deep abyss of the cushioned center.

She scowled up at the rest of them. “It’s too big. Like, way too big.”

From where she stood nearby, Vivian glanced over with a mischievous glint in her eye.

But instead of looking at the throne—her gaze very obviously dropped to Allen’s waistline.

She smirked lazily. “Personally, I prefer another type of throne.”

Zoe didn’t miss a beat, “Need me to bonk you? Might help you get your brain back.”

Vivian pouted, all fake innocence, crossing her arms under her chest with a dramatic huff. “Don’t say you didn’t like the idea.”

Allen just closed his eyes for a moment, sighed deeply, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can I at least sit on my throne first before you guys start planning furniture modifications?”

Shea was leaning against a cracked pillar, trying to pretend she wasn’t dying of secondhand embarrassment. She muttered under her breath, “We are never going to survive public appearances at this rate…”

Meanwhile, Bella, standing proudly with her hands on her hips, pointed dramatically at the revived dragon like a royal queen issuing a decree.

“I want my parade!” she declared. “Where’s my parade? I fought dragons. I deserve balloons!”

She whirled around, stabbing her finger accusingly at Azdraeth’s now somewhat-conscious heads.

“Hey! You! Big guy! Can you give me a parade?!”

The two serious heads turned toward her slowly.

Their gazes flat.

Dead serious.

“No,” said the golden head.

“Absolutely not,” said the red-eyed head.

Bella threw her hands up into the air. “Tch! What’s the point of winning if I don’t get a parade?!”

At the same time, Jane—never one to miss a chance for chaos—grinned wickedly and sprinted toward the dragon.

Specifically, toward the derpy head.

Before anyone could stop her, she clambered up the dragon’s broad shoulder and, laughing like a kid on a playground, perched herself right on top of the derpy head’s snout.

“Look!” Jane called, grinning wide. “I got my own parade!”