Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1547

Chapter 1547: Dungeon Core

Villain Ch 1547. Dungeon Core

Allen chuckled and followed, the others close behind.

The summoning chamber was an enormous circular room, the floor carved with intricate runes, a vast stone altar at the center built specifically for binding and raising abyssal creatures.

Allen stepped onto the platform, calling up the shard count once again.

The system pulsed.

[Do you wish to summon the Abyssal Dragon?]

[Cost: 600 Abyssal Shards per Summon]

He grinned, sharp and hungry.

“Let’s do this.”

He slammed his palm onto the altar, pouring dark mana into the summoning circle.

The ground shook.

The runes flared.

Darkness itself seemed to pull from the edges of the room, swirling into the altar like a black hole.

The girls stepped back, watching intently.

One orb formed—then two.

Massive forms slowly materialized out of the darkness, skeletal at first, then layering muscle and black scales until— Two new dragons roared into existence, shaking the very Crypt walls.

Massive. Terrifying. Beautiful.

The first had glimmering, deep violet eyes and an armored mane like shifting obsidian plates.

The second had serrated wings and scales etched with blood-red veins pulsing with abyssal energy.

Allen smirked and crossed his arms as the system pinged softly:

[Summoning Successful!]

[Servants Acquired: Abyssal Dragon – “Duskreaver”]

[Servants Acquired: Abyssal Dragon – “Bloodmourne”]

Vivian let out a low whistle. “Now that’s an upgrade.”

Jane’s eyes sparkled like a kid in a candy store. “Can I ride them?! Can I ride them?!”

Bella was already tugging at Allen’s sleeve. “I want one! Pleaseeee!”

Zoe looked unimpressed but nodded. “They’ll be useful. Especially if more players start hunting us after this ‘throne claim’ event gets out.”

Allen grinned, watching the dragons snarl and circle around the altar, their massive tails carving trenches into the stone.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and certain. “They’ll be more than useful.”

They were building an army.

But an army wasn’t enough.

Not for what was coming.

They were in full prep mode now.

No celebration. No parade. Not even a single damn cookie.

Just defense.

The throne was too important. The devs had confirmed it—the core of their faction—was rooted directly in that massive, jagged seat of power now embedded in the center of the throne hall. If enemy players found a way in and destroyed it?

Game over.

They didn’t have to kill Allen. They didn’t have to wipe out the team.

They just had to destroy that one cursed throne.

So they spent the rest of the day turning their home into a living nightmare.

It started outside the Crypts—on the twisted, cracked path that led up through the blackened canyon. The bone bridges, already narrow and suspended over bottomless chasms, were now covered in runes—small, etched glyphs carved carefully by Alice and reinforced by Zoe. One misstep, and they’d ignite.

The bone beneath them would melt, and anyone standing there would fall into the fog-choked abyss below.

Jane called them “trap-tisserie bridges.”

Shea made sure the wind magic along the outer cliffs worked in tandem—if someone did fall, and survived, they’d be dragged backward by gale-force currents into a second kill zone, a ring of sharpened bone stakes soaked in demonic venom, just in case.

Vivian oversaw the ambush points on the outer cliffs, setting up decoy shrines that looked like objectives but were in fact baited. Anyone who touched one would trigger a flame ward and a mini-event spawn of abyssal hounds.

They were small touches, easy to miss—intentionally misleading. Half the goal was to delay, not kill.

Every second bought was another second the team could regroup.

Inside the Crypts, the work got nastier.

They had a lava pit near the inner gate already, but Allen had Larissa modify it.

Now it wasn’t just a pit.

Now, hidden runes written in ancient abyssal script surrounded it, scripted with a pressure-sensitive trigger system. If a player got within three feet of the edge, the rune would activate and collapse the nearby walkway.

Straight down. Into lava.

And then, just to be cruel, fire walls would erupt across the top—cutting off the only air path out.

Jane tested it by throwing a summoned skeleton onto it. They all watched the poor bag of bones fall, flail, then explode.

She clapped like she was watching fireworks.

Vivian gave it a 9.5. Bella gave it a 10, but only if they added “spikes with glitter.”

Allen agreed. Because why not?

They rewired the Crypt’s inner sanctum next. The long corridors that led toward the throne hall were packed with interlocking traps—old-school, dungeon-core style.

Spinning blades from the walls. Arcane pressure plates that triggered necromantic lightning. Hidden flame geysers that could be redirected from control points above the rafters.

Zoe added water-based traps too, flooding one hallway with enchanted cursed water that slowly drained mana just from being near it. The more magic a player had, the more violently it reacted.

Allen called it the “try-hard punishment hallway.”

Vivian called it “delightful.”

Larissa installed sigils on the ceilings—sigils of blood magic that could reactivate fallen monsters nearby and raise them as temporary defenders. It wasn’t permanent resurrection, but it’d be enough to overwhelm an unprepared squad.

And then… the final chamber.

The throne room itself.

The girls were quiet when they returned to it.

Not reverent. Not fearful.

Just… focused.

This was their core. The place everything would lead to.

And if the enemy reached it, it meant everything else had failed.

So they made it worse.

Worse in every way.

The floor leading to the throne was now a multi-path route that looped in deceptive spirals, the walls cloaked in illusory enchantments cast by Alice. Half the hallways led to nowhere. Some led into spike pits. Others? Directly into binding magic traps that summoned a one-minute paralysis.

Plenty of time for Vivian or Shea to stab someone in the spine.

The main route—the only real one—was fitted with a full array of delayed explosives under the stone slabs. Allen placed them himself, using a modified version of his Demonic Orbs skill. Small, black glyph-mines that only detonated if a non-party member stepped on three in a row.

He called it the “idiot detector.”

Vivian called it “the walk of shame.”