Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1574

Chapter 1574: Blind Dungeon Run
Villain Ch 1574. Blind Dungeon Run

He took the back stairs up—less foot traffic, quieter. The thick, plush carpet muffled his steps as he ascended.

His room sat at the end. Big. Clean. Understated—especially by Goldborne standards. Minimalist furniture. He pushed the door open and walked in, letting it fall shut behind him with a quiet click.

The moment he sat on the edge of the bed, he reached for his phone.

No messages.

No new alerts.

Except…

[Thread: Operation Bonebreaker – Cursed Crypts Raid Planning ] – 214 new comments

War Planning / Guild: Ironclad Legion

Bingo.

Allen sank deeper into the sheets, one leg bent up under the other, phone in hand, eyes scanning the thread like he was reading battlefield reports. Because in a way… he was.

The Ironclad Legion was spearheading the assault on the Cursed Crypts next week. His base. His throne. His carefully constructed defense labyrinth of bone bridges, flame runes, and hidden soul mines.

They didn’t know he was watching. That the one they were plotting to conquer was the same guy scrolling their plans with a slice of judgment and a side of iced tea.

TANKMOM69: okay, fr have the devs even released the layout for the Devil Emperor’s base yet or nah?

ClericDaddy: not yet! What are we even prepping for at this point?? vibes??

DaggerDan: Then how tf are we supposed to raid it? guess our strat is hope and prayer

SwordAndSnaccs: idk man we just gotta treat it like a blind dungeon run. no maps. no mercy.

Kali4Crits: First we gotta penetrate the outer wards. think of it like triple-sealed anti-fun zones.

ClericDaddy: So we just… march in and hope for the best? What’s the strat??

Kali4Crits: Maybe split squads at the gate? if it’s maze-based we need recon runners.

SwordAndSnaccs: Heard the Devil Emperor has like 4 phases and a fake-out death scene. classic villain arc.

DaggerDan: Yeah but that’s rumor.

CrimsonTactician: Focus. goal is breach and throne, right? we treat it like an elite dungeon. no map, no mercy.

ClericDaddy: So we’re using the Dismantler relic, then? or still saving it for whatever comes after?

TANKMOM69: IF we even get to the throne. we don’t know the pathing, trap placements, or the ward types.

ZoningMage69: tbh? it’s probably got layered defenses. illusion glyphs, mirror halls, flame traps.

SwordAndSnaccs: plus his aura alone might debuff casting speed. better pack anti-curse scrolls.

Kali4Crits: we need designated heal zones and rotation squads. use summoners as shields if needed.

CrimsonTactician: agreed. we split into trios—one tank core, one rogue scout squad, one spell volley team.

TANKMOM69: also, bring sacrificial gear. if you wipe, at least you die looking poor.

Allen smirked.

They really had no idea.

He’d already reworked the entire rune system last night, and yeah, the throne they were all thirsting for?

It was a decoy.

The real one sat three floors deeper, past a wall that could only be opened by solving a musical puzzle using enchanted bones.

And the Dismantler relic?

Let them use it.

He’d mirrored the throne sigil with a dummy aura, rigged it to overload and backfire the moment the relic tried to pierce it. Instant AoE fear + silence + a confetti explosion for flavor. Yeah, Jane’s idea.

Let them try.

But even as he scrolled through their beautifully stupid plans and bookmarked a few usernames for future psychological warfare, his focus… drifted.

Not on the game.

Not even on the guild.

But back downstairs.

Jordan’s voice still lingered, echoing in the quiet.

‘You’re a Goldborne now. You could use that privilege to end things.’

Allen had shrugged it off at first. He always did. After all, money? Sure, he had it. Connections? He was on first-name basis with three city officials and a literal prince. Power? The Goldborne name didn’t just open doors—it rewrote blueprints.

But he’d never liked using it. Not unless it was absolutely necessary.

Maybe that was the problem.

Jordan wasn’t wrong.

Most people in his position would’ve leveraged every inch of that status the moment they signed the estate papers. Private jets. Paparazzi leverage. Whole companies formed overnight just for vanity brands and revenge.

Allen?

He still wore the same black hoodies. Still used the same entrance at restaurants. Still paid for his own food like a regular guy.

And maybe…

Maybe that was why Sophia thought she could still play her little games.

Allen dropped the phone onto the bed beside him and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Sophia.

Clingy. Dramatic. Unpredictable.

And persistent.

She hadn’t taken the hint. Not after the breakup. Not after the silence. Not even after she started flirting with Elio in front of him or cozying up to Mr. Bell like she was auditioning to ruin lives professionally.

He didn’t get jealous.

He got annoyed.

Allen looked up at the ceiling. Light filtered through the high windows. Something in his chest simmered.

Then he muttered to himself, voice dry. “I guess it’s time to use it… to end her.”

Because by now—if his mental clock was right—Mr. Bell should’ve already moved.

There was something satisfying about watching a man like Bell—who spent years constructing an image of control—start to unravel. Allen didn’t need to know every detail. He’d seen enough to guess.

And Liam and Darren?

They were already halfway down the same spiral.

Sophia never had power—she just borrowed it. Manipulated it. Weaponized secrets.

But secrets didn’t stay secrets forever.

All Allen had to do was whisper. Just once. One message—nothing dramatic. No threats. Just a nudge.

He didn’t need to twist arms. They were already bruised.

Bell wanted to save his marriage.

Darren and Liam wanted their freedom.

And Allen?

He just wanted Sophia gone.

Not dead. Not ruined.

Just powerless.

Okay, maybe also ruined.

He didn’t need to lift a finger. Just wait.

Let the weight of her own games crush her.

And when it happened—when Bell’s polished mask cracked, when Darren stopped dancing around her demands, when Liam’s silence turned into legal action—Allen would be there.

Not as the executioner.

Not even as the witness.

Just the one who allowed it.