Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Chapter 1703: You’re Bleeding

Villain Ch 1703. You’re Bleeding

A flurry of steps, blades spinning, shadows exploding outward from her form like black petals.

Allen stood still.

Then moved once.

And every attack— Landed.

A blade across her thigh.

Another nicking her side.

His sword twisted between her guard and cracked the hilt of her dagger from her hand. She reached for it again, but he caught her wrist mid-motion and twisted.

She gasped.

Her hand went numb.

Allen leaned in, lips close to her ear.

“You’re bleeding,” he whispered.

She tried to headbutt him.

He caught that too.

Their faces were inches apart.

And his grin never faded.

“You’re good,” he said, almost like praise. “But you’re in my domain now.”

She could barely breathe.

Everything felt heavy.

Her body screamed for retreat. Her screen flickered with low-health warnings. Her armor—cracked. Her stamina bar—flashing red.

And still—he hadn’t even used a skill yet.

He stepped back, sword glinting faintly.

Azura straightened, blood running down her side.

She didn’t say a word.

But inside?

She was terrified.

And maybe—just a little—

Thrilled.

Azura’s fingers twitched around the dagger still in her grip, the hilt damp with sweat. Her lungs fought to pull in enough air. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, but not from fear.

No, this wasn’t just fear.

It was something else.

’This feeling again…’ she thought.

Yeah. These feelings.

The buzz under her skin. The goosebumps on her arms. The odd way the world felt sharper, louder, almost intimate when she fought him.

The Devil Emperor.

There was a thrill in it—a deep, dangerous high. Like she was tap dancing along the edge of a cliff and loving every second of it. His eyes, his smile, his movements—they stirred something in her she didn’t want to recognize.

And then there was the other thing.

The ache in her chest.

A strange nostalgia.

Where had that come from?

She was sure she had felt this before.

But the memory was blurry, like a dream seen through broken glass.

She didn’t have time to chase it.

Because Allen moved again.

And this time—he wasn’t playing anymore.

He blurred, low and fast, almost crawling across the earth like a shadow given shape. His sword flickered with abyssal energy, and when he swung—she didn’t block it.

She didn’t even see it coming.

The blow landed against her side, and something inside her cracked. Not her armor—her body. Her system screamed a red warning.

“Shit—!”

She flipped back, trying to regain distance, but Allen was already there. He pressed forward, emotionless now. No grinning. No taunting.

Just cold precision.

Like she was a mob. Like this was routine.

His sword arced. She blocked with her right dagger—only for her wrist to twist violently. She felt her tendon snap in the haptic response. Her hand went limp.

The second slash came.

Across her chest—shoulder to ribcage. A clean, perfect line of burning pain.

She dropped to one knee.

Not fast enough.

Allen drove his boot into her chest.

She hit the dirt hard. A gasp ripped out of her, air gone. Her HUD flickered again. Low health. Bleed active.

Her mind screamed for Alex—but she knew he was busy. Too far. Pinned down. Probably too scared to even look away.

And still, as Allen walked toward her—calm, collected—she stared up at him and whispered, “…Why does it feel like I’ve known you forever?”

His expression didn’t change.

“I get that a lot.”

He raised his blade.

Azura’s last thought wasn’t about her guild. Or her ranking.

It was that feeling. That old, echoing feeling that maybe she’d met this monster once, before any of this.

And then—

Black.

[Player VirtualValkyrie has been defeated.]

Her body slumped to the ground, daggers slipping from her hands.

Allen stood over her, his sword dripping with cold light.

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t say a line.

He just looked down at her for a moment—silent.

And then, without even breaking his gaze from her corpse, he raised his left hand.

“Demonic Lances.”

Black spears formed in the air around him, sharp, long, and brimming with coiled energy.

And before anyone could react—

He launched them.

Not at the tanks.

Not at the DPS.

Straight at Alex.

The lances tore through the air like hell’s own missiles.

“Wait—!” Arcana shouted.

Alex’s eyes widened. He raised his staff.

Too late.

-CRASH!

The lances hit him square in the back. The holy barrier flared—cracked—shattered.

And Father^Alex was gone in an instant.

No scream.

No spell.

Just a soft, short sound of disbelief.

And then silence.

The system pinged:

[Player Father^Alex has been defeated.]

Allen didn’t move.

He didn’t even blink.

It was like he whispered to Azura’s corpse.

’See? This is what I can do when I’m just a bit serious.’

The battlefield collapsed after that.

With the healer gone, the buff chains dropped. Shields fell. Arcana screamed for focus fire, for regroup, for anything.

It didn’t matter.

The Emperor’s court had already closed in.

Larissa flashed forward, eyes glowing red, claws soaked in blood. She grabbed Warlord by the neck and slammed him into the dirt. Her blood vines tore through his armor and dragged him screaming into the ground.

Jane summoned a dozen undead from the corpses around them. “We brought friends,” she said sweetly, and the skeletons tore into Spellweaver_83 like rabid dogs.

Vivian giggled as she chained three remaining players into a Nightmare Trap, her succubi swarming them with seductive death.

Bella conjured an Ice Storm that froze one player solid, just long enough for Zoe to crush him under a summoned tidal surge.

“Oops,” Zoe said, deadpan. “Guess we were too much.”

Shea strummed her harp once—Lullaby. The last two remaining attackers collapsed to their knees.

She smiled softly. “Sleep tight.”

Then Larissa finished them.

And then there was nothing.

No more shouting.

No more spells.

Only wind.

And eight monsters standing in the middle of the field, breathing calmly. Covered in blood and mist and smug silence.

Allen lowered his sword.

The field was scorched.

Bodies everywhere.

And at his feet—Azura.

Still.

He exhaled once, rolling his neck like someone who’d just finished a satisfying stretch.

Then he muttered, like a bored player logging off after a quick warm-up match.

“…Next.”

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