Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Chapter 1678: The Bride Must be Delivered

Villain Ch 1678. The Bride Must be Delivered

He surged forward.

Tentacles whipped toward him—

He ducked under the first, rolled past the second, and punched one mid-air with a mana-enhanced strike, cracking it off its root.

The Warden swung—

Allen vaulted over it, boots grazing its shoulder as he twisted midair, flipped, and brought his fist down like a falling star.

-CRACK!

The impact rang out like a war drum struck in a cathedral. The Warden staggered, iron joints grinding, one of its rotating halos sparking violently.

Allen didn’t land softly. He slammed down, dust and blood mist bursting around his boots as he stood tall and calm, like he didn’t just use a tentacled church mech as a launchpad.

His right hand rose.

Black mana coiled from his wrist, fingers curled around nothing—until it appeared.

The sword.

Long. Jet-black. Edges uneven like broken obsidian. A cursed relic from another plane entirely. It didn’t shimmer. It didn’t glow. It drank the light around it.

The moment it finished forming, a pulse rolled out.

[Demonic Aura Activated]

[Your attack and defense have increased by 250%]

A wet slosh echoed to his side.

Larissa stood slowly, her hand raised—and the pool of blood at her feet began to stir.

Like a tide drawn by gravity, the crimson liquid rose unnaturally, slithered upward and around her body, trailing across her limbs like a lover’s touch. Then it changed shape—morphing into sharp, jagged claws, wicked whips, jagged lances, and even thorned wings stretched behind her in liquid mimicry.

“Alright, church boy,” she said, her voice low, her fangs showing as she smirked. “Let’s dance.”

The Warden didn’t hesitate. It lunged, dragging its cathedral hammer arms wide. Chains flailed behind it like holy serpents, glowing with inscriptions older than language.

“The Bride must be delivered,” it intoned, voice reverent, hollow.

“Bride?” Larissa scoffed, swirling her blood lances between her fingers. “B*tch, I don’t even do weddings.”

Allen shot forward.

The black sword dragged against the floor for a half-second—then rose.

He moved like a shadow weaponized, ducking low beneath the first hammer swing. It whistled over his head, slamming into a pillar, sending debris and consecrated dust raining from above. Allen didn’t stop.

He slid beneath the second strike, the hem of his coat fluttering, then twisted around its blind side.

Backstab.

Not a skill. Just a vibe.

He drove his black sword deep into the Warden’s right knee joint.

-SHNK!

Sparks and molten oil hissed. The Warden screamed, mechanical whine warped into something feral. But Allen was already gone, dashing backward as a tentacle whipped around—

Too slow.

Larissa spun, red blades forming from the air around her, shaped like petals—but they cut like saws.

She danced sideways, avoiding a hammer slam so violent the floor cracked. Her claws blurred. Two slashes. Then four. Then eight.

They weren’t wide arcs. They were surgical strikes. Each hit a different rune etched across the Warden’s armor, burning them out mid-cast.

It flailed again.

“Do not resist, Bride. You were promised—”

Larissa grabbed a blood whip and yanked one of the Warden’s arms aside. “Promised? Please. You sound like my high school stalker.”

Allen appeared behind her, blade humming.

“High school?”

“Long story.”

The Warden roared. More tentacles unfurled, each dripping golden sparks. They moved in sync now, each one aiming to grab.

Allen moved first. He flipped over two of them, skidded across a broken pew, and then charged—sword raised. His form blurred as the Demonic Aura surged, his speed near untrackable.

-CLANG!

The sword met one of the hammers mid-air—and won. The holy construct cracked at the edge, divine steel chipping like porcelain.

Another tentacle shot toward Larissa’s back—

She didn’t turn.

She smiled.

And the pool of blood behind her spiked upward like a scorpion’s tail, intercepting it with a crunch.

The Warden growled now, voice glitching. “She is a vessel. My Lord awaits her.”

Allen barked a laugh, slashing through another tentacle as it lunged. “Wow. You’re not even the main villain in your own story.”

He feinted left—vanished—and reappeared above the Warden mid-air, black sword raised high. Larissa launched a blood platform under him mid-leap. He pushed off it with both feet.

The slash wasn’t a skill. It was a statement.

The blade carved through one of the Warden’s rotating halos, cutting it in half.

It fell. Screaming.

Not the Warden. The halo itself.

Allen landed behind the construct and turned to look over his shoulder, one eye glowing like embers.

“Still want your bride?”

The Warden turned in rage. “You will not defile the sacred binding.”

“Man, you really picked the wrong vampire.”

He darted in again.

This time, he didn’t just slash—he broke. Every motion was deliberate. His footwork cracked the marble. His blade struck with the weight of a collapsing cathedral. He wasn’t wasting magic. He was carving the thing down.

Every joint. Every halo.

Larissa mirrored him.

Her blood forms morphed into twin axes that shimmered red-gold in the cathedral’s haunting light. She twirled between attacks, using Allen’s momentum as anchor. When he struck low, she struck high. When he pushed, she pulled.

They didn’t need to speak.

They just moved.

Tentacles thrashed around them like divine snakes—but none landed. Not one.

Allen sidestepped a strike and slashed one off at the root. Larissa flipped over a chain and cleaved through the joint with a buzzsaw of blood. Her laughter rang across the ruined hall.

“You’re starting to bore me,” she teased.

“I thought I was the drama queen,” Allen muttered, ducking another swing.

“You are,” she said sweetly, “but I’m the main course.”

The Warden finally showed a hint of panic.

It turned—and tried to run a purification sequence.

Too late.

Allen slammed the flat of his blade against its chest.

“Break this.”

The blood lances hit a beat later.

Six of them.

Straight into its core.

The impact rattled the entire cathedral.

The Warden screamed—voice raw, digital, and broken.

“No—She must be—The Lord—The Vessel—Bride—”

Allen stepped in, pressing his sword to the creature’s neck.

“You’re not taking her anywhere.”

He drove the blade sideways.

A final burst of corrupted light exploded outward.

White. Red. Black.

Then silence.

Again.

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