Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Chapter 1889: Ceremony and Roles

Villain Ch 1889. Ceremony and Roles

A red circle, lined with infernal script, seared itself into her shoulder just above her collarbone.

And that was it.

Something in Elise snapped.

She bit the landlord’s hand—hard.

Blood sprayed. He hissed. She punched the altar with her free hand, cracked the wood, and yanked herself upright.

Then she ran.

The candles flickered.

The guests turned.

Everything stuttered for a second, like a video glitch.

And then—

[QUEST UPDATED!]

[Goals: Protect Elise, Kill the Landlord and Prevent the Seventh Wedding.]

Allen felt it instantly.

Like gravity returned.

His feet moved again.

“Shea, Zoe—intercept left flank. Bella, Larissa—circle the pews and collapse them from the back. Jane—shield Elise. Vivian, Alice—go for the priest. Now.”

They moved without hesitation.

Chaos erupted like a pipe bomb.

Allen surged forward.

The landlord turned just in time to see Allen’s blade slice downward—he parried with unnatural grace, blue beard flicking with the motion.

“Uninvited guests,” the landlord purred, voice like cold metal. “How rude.”

“You should’ve locked your doors tighter,” Allen snarled, slamming a Telekinesis Blast into him.

The landlord flew back, crashed into the altar, and shattered a column.

Meanwhile—

Elise stumbled forward, panic in her eyes, veil torn and half-burned. One of the robed attendants lunged.

Jane stepped between them.

“Wall of Bones!”

White limbs erupted from the floor, forming a ribcage around Elise in a protective dome. Skeletal hands reached up and dragged the cultist screaming into the floor.

Zoe’s tentacle wrapped around two guests that leapt forward, revealing their true forms—hollow-eyed shadows in rotting tuxedos. She crushed them in one twist.

Shea dove from above, feathers launching like razors. A wave of Clutch Brides that had begun forming at the back dissolved mid-scream.

Vivian cracked her whip, lashing the false priest’s face, sparks flying. “Your sermons suck!”

Alice laughed on her broom, hurling a Void Sphere straight into the middle of the aisle. It sucked in five cultists before exploding with a pulse of violet death.

Larissa moved like blood made flesh. She was already behind the altar, her claws raking open the throat of a Veil Widow trying to chant a resurrection curse.

Bella stomped the ground—”Earthquake Stomp!”—and the pews shattered, flipping guests onto their backs.

Allen found the landlord rising, suit still immaculate despite the chaos.

“You are too late,” he said, smiling with cracked teeth. “The wedding has begun.”

“Then I’ll send a divorce lawyer,” Allen growled.

And he activated it.

[Demonic Aura: Activated.]

[Your attack and defense have increased by 250%.]

[You have decreased enemies’ attack and defense by 50% within a 10-meter radius.]

[Countdown: 15:00]

It hit like a detonation. Not visible, not flashy—but felt. The air around Allen warped. Reality bent just a little. Like the universe suddenly realized this guy was not to be f**ked with. The floor groaned beneath his boots as the surge of pressure rolled outward, cracking tiles and blowing out candles in a ten-meter radius. The landlord flinched—not visibly, but Allen saw it. That half-second hesitation. That twitch behind the smug smile.

Good.

Allen moved first.

No battle cry. No theatrics.

Just violence.

His blade came down in a vertical arc, and the landlord caught it with one arm—bare hand—like he was swatting a fly.

Except he wasn’t ready for the follow-up.

Allen’s free hand slammed into his chest, and with the full weight of the Demonic Aura behind it, the impact sent the bastard flying.

The altar exploded behind him in a shower of marble and ash.

Allen didn’t chase. Not yet. He walked.

Measured steps.

He wasn’t rushing this.

The girls were still clearing the rest of the church. Shea’s harp-string attacks shredded shadow guests on the upper balcony.

Zoe flung a pew like it weighed nothing, crushing two Veil Widows.

Larissa painted streaks of blood across the back wall, laughing like it was art class.

Jane was focused, arms raised, maintaining the ribcage dome over Elise.

Bella vaulted off a ruined column, kicking a cultist midair, tail flicking like a dancer’s ribbon.

Alice hovered overhead, magic brewing in lazy spirals around her fingers like storm clouds waiting for permission to drop hell.

But Allen?

He had one target.

The landlord rose from the rubble, coat torn, skin cracked like old porcelain.

But he smiled.

“You are impressive,” the landlord rasped. “But power alone is not—”

Allen was already there.

His foot planted against the marble. Pivoted.

And with that spin—he brought down his sword again, faster this time, a blur. The blade connected with the landlord’s shoulder, cleaving through half of it with a sickening crunch.

The bastard screamed.

Good.

Allen jerked the blade free, reversed his grip, and slammed the hilt into the man’s jaw.

Teeth went flying.

He followed up with a Telekinesis Blast—point-blank—sending the landlord crashing through a row of wooden benches and into the arms of one of the ghostly guests, who began screaming as if the spell hurt them too.

Weird.

Allen narrowed his eyes.

The line between real and illusion in this place was blurry as hell.

The landlord groaned, rolled onto his stomach.

“You don’t understand,” he hissed. “She belongs to me—!”

Allen hurled a Demonic Lance at him mid-rant.

It pinned him to the wall.

“No one belongs to you,” Allen said coldly. “Especially not her.”

The aura pulsed again, another shockwave. Every shadow within ten meters withered. Their forms thinned. Faded. Like his presence was poison.

The landlord ripped himself off the wall, blood now staining his coat. His right arm hung limp. “I gave them purpose,” he snarled. “I gave them ceremony. I gave them roles. Isn’t that what they wanted? To be part of something?”

“Yeah,” Allen said, stepping forward again. “And now they’re part of my kill count.”

He swung again.

But the landlord changed.

His body rippled, bones cracking. Legs lengthening. Arms twisting. The blue beard burned away as new, jagged features emerged—a mask of raw bone and red veins. His teeth now too many, his eyes twin lanterns of wedding-candle fire. He no longer looked like a man. He looked like what he always was.

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