Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1556

Chapter 1556: Morning Cardio
Villain Ch 1556. Morning Cardio

The next morning came in soft, golden pieces—sunlight slicing gently through the sheer curtains, brushing against the floor like it didn’t want to wake anyone up too fast. The kind of morning that didn’t feel rushed or sharp, but… still. Settled.

Allen blinked awake. No alarm. No obnoxious ringtone. No emergency notifications. Just… air. Clean sheets. A soft pillow.

And peace.

Weird.

Really weird.

His fingers twitched across the comforter like his body was double-checking for threats. Nope. Still in bed. Still whole. Still warm. Still—relaxed?

A second passed before he slowly sat up and stared around his room like it might glitch out.

Still quiet.

Still soft light.

Still real.

Huh.

He rubbed a hand across his face. A breath left him slow, steady.

That had been… a good sleep. No tossing. No dreams. No grinding his teeth halfway into oblivion. Just clean rest. Like his body finally gave him permission to breathe.

No wonder he’d woken up at six freaking AM.

And then, a grin crept up the corner of his mouth. Because he had an idea.

A delicious one.

Allen grabbed his phone from the nightstand with a grin already forming. His thumb hovered dramatically over Gerry’s contact for a second—just a second—before he hit the call button.

Oh yeah.

Payback time.

He leaned back on the bed, phone pressed to his ear, eyes gleaming with wicked energy.

It rang once.

Twice.

And then—

He slapped at it without opening his eyes and groaned, “Hello—?”

“Dude, where are you?!” Allen’s voice came through loud and accusatory, laced with mock panic. “Did something happen to you?! I can’t find you anywhere at the gym!”

The sound of Gerry’s brain loading the situation in real time was beautiful.

Gerry bolted upright, instantly alert. “Wait—what? Am I late?! What’s the time now?!”

His voice was full panic-mode, feet already scrambling for socks, soul halfway in the afterlife.

Allen’s laugh exploded through the phone. “It’s six.”

“…Are you serious.”

Allen was wheezing now. “Oh, man, that was satisfying. You should’ve heard your voice—pure panic. Like someone stole your protein powder.”

Gerry groaned louder. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Allen grinned wider. “Call it morning cardio. You’re welcome.”

“You’re the devil.”

“Wrong title,” Allen quipped. “Anyway, see you there.”

“You suck.”

Allen hung up with a little hum still on his lips. He set his phone down and stared at the ceiling for a moment, the calm still there. Soft. Settled. Like his body wasn’t dragging anchors behind it today.

Yeah. That sleep was the best he’d had in years.

And maybe it was dumb. Maybe it was just a bunch of emotional drainage finally squeezing out of his system like poison leaving the wound. But whatever the reason, Allen felt… light.

No dread in his chest.

No guilt twisting his stomach.

Just the soft quiet of a morning that didn’t demand anything from him.

He slid off the bed and stretched, bones cracking in protest. The cool wood floor beneath his bare feet was a welcome shock. He padded over to the window and cracked it open, letting in that early chill. It smelled like dew and distant city. A faint breeze stirred the curtains.

Allen smiled.

After brushing his teeth and splashing his face, he got dressed—dark joggers, black sleeveless hoodie, lightweight gloves. Comfortable. Streamlined.

He glanced at the silver box resting on his desk—the Goldborne ring resting inside like some tiny artifact of identity. He didn’t put it on.

Not today.

Not at the gym.

He gently closed the box, slid it into his book sleeve, and zipped it shut. Safe. Close. But not worn.

It wasn’t time yet.

A knock sounded at the door, just a soft rhythm—too precise to be anyone but Kai.

“Come in,” Allen called, already knowing.

Kai entered, perfectly composed as always, balancing a sleek wooden tray in his gloved hands. On it—Allen’s pre-workout breakfast: two perfectly toasted slices of sourdough with almond butter, banana slices arranged like an architectural sketch, a soft-boiled egg, and a glass of cold water with lemon.

“I assumed you’d be up early today, sir,” Kai said as he set the tray down on the small table by the window. “And I was correct.”

Allen smirked faintly. “You’re terrifying sometimes.”

Kai gave a humble bow. “I take that as a compliment.”

Allen sat down and dug in. It wasn’t much, but it was clean fuel. Solid macros. Nothing heavy. The egg yolk was just runny enough. The almond butter rich but not overdone.

He ate in comfortable silence, occasionally watching the light shift across the table. His thoughts weren’t spiraling. They weren’t doing anything, really. Just… being.

After wiping his hands and downing the last of the water, he stood, rolling his shoulders once.

“Thanks, Kai,” he said. “This hit the spot.”

“Of course, sir,” Kai replied, already gathering the tray with ghost-like efficiency. “Shall I prepare anything for your return?”

Allen shook his head. “Nah. I’ll text you.”

Kai nodded and slipped out as smoothly as he came in.

And Allen walked into the garage.

He slid on his gloves, helmet, and hoodie, then straddled the bike and turned the throttle gently.

Engine roared.

The kind of sound that made the blood in his veins hum like it wanted to race.

And Allen grinned.

Then took off.

The streets were still half-asleep. Just a few morning runners, sleepy delivery trucks, and business types trying to beat traffic. Allen zigzagged through smooth curves and empty intersections like the road belonged to him. His reflection flickered off the city’s steel and glass like a ghost on fire.

He didn’t take the direct route to the gym.

Not today.

Instead, he took a left through the park district, past the rose garden that was just starting to bloom for spring. He sped through old roads lined with cobblestone and iron-wrought fences, feeling the bite of cold wind against his cheeks, the adrenaline trickling into his limbs in clean pulses.

And when he hit the edge of the upper ridge—just where the city skyline spilled beneath the hills like a painting come to life—he stopped.

Pulled over. Cut the engine.

Silence greeted him.

The view stretched wide, towers catching the sun’s first rays, streets still wrapped in golden shadows, distant fog curling around rooftops like a secret.

Allen took off his helmet and rested it against the tank.

Then pulled out his phone.

Snapped a photo.

No filters. No angles. Just real.

He stared at the image for a moment and saved it.

No caption.

No post.

Just for him.

A snapshot of what it felt like—to have a morning he didn’t hate. A moment without weight.

And maybe that was why it mattered.