Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Capítulo 2042: Epilogue [Part 2]

Villain Ch 2042. Epilogue [Part 2]

“I want toast shaped like a bunny!” the pink-haired one said.

“We’ll negotiate.”

The blonde clung for another moment before Mila lifted her up. “You can sit next to me, okay?”

“But I want to sit on Daddy…”

Mila kissed her cheek. “He’ll still be here after breakfast.”

That somehow worked.

Vivian’s daughter finally let go.

Allen lowered the other girl into Mila’s arms with a sigh of deep, spiritual release.

Then looked down.

His youngest son was still glued to his pant leg.

“Buddy,” he said.

The little boy looked up.

“Toast?”

The grip loosened slightly.

“I want to sit on your lap.”

Allen smirked. “Deal.”

He reached down, scooped him up, and finally, sat at the head of the table with a small, sleepy weight nestled in his arms.

The dining table was chaos.

Unapologetic.

There were half-eaten pancakes on Jane’s plate, a bowl of scrambled eggs dangerously close to being knocked over by Larissa’s elbow, jam fingerprints on the linen napkins.

Zoe was trying to explain the stock market to Riven using toast slices as visual aids.

Bella and Alice were arguing about whether glitter should be banned from the craft room. Azura was feeding one of the kids a strawberry and letting the other grab her hair like a chew toy.

Allen sat back, his son on his lap, small fingers poking his tie, and just watched.

He smiled.

Soft. Quiet. Deep.

No camera could capture this. No status update. No headline.

Just love.

Sticky. Loud. Unfiltered.

And it was all his.

He looked at Jane across the table. She was watching him, eyes soft.

“Too much?” she asked.

He shook his head slowly. “Never.”

Then he kissed his son’s forehead, leaned back, and let breakfast carry on like it always did, wild, warm, and full of everything he thought he’d never have.

Mila leaned in, sipping her herbal tea carefully with one hand resting over her modest bump. “Should we add more nannies later?” she murmured, her tone half-practical, half-dreamy as her gaze shifted toward the trio of toddlers now playing tug-of-war with Allen’s tie. “I mean… Bella is three months pregnant. Larissa’s a month along. That makes six.”

Allen looked up, his hands gently untangling his tie from tiny fists, each child convinced it was a toy. “Yes,” he nodded, his voice calm beneath the chaos. “We’ll need it. Someone who can take care of the moms too.”

Shea gave him a look from across the table, somewhere between amused and concerned. “Allen… do you think this is too much?”

His dark eyes met hers.

Shea tilted her head, pausing mid-bite. “I mean… four kids already. Two more on the way. This is a lot.”

“No,” Allen said simply.

There was something in the way he said it, like it wasn’t even a question.

He adjusted his daughter’s position on his lap. Vivian’s child, pink-haired and wide-eyed, was now settled against his chest like a smug little kitten who’d won a war. Mila’s girl leaned into his arm, fingers curled around his shirt collar, refusing to let go. And the boy, Alice’s boy, still clung to his other side, half-asleep but making tiny sounds of discontent whenever a nanny came too close.

“No,” Allen repeated, quieter this time. “Dad already became a happy grandpa. You should’ve seen him. He actually cried. And Emma?”

He chuckled, shaking his head again, softer now.

“Emma’s been grinning ear to ear since I told her about the pregnancies. Said she already bought tiny shoes. For both.”

Bella, lounging slightly to one side with a protective hand on her belly, raised her brows in playful suspicion. “And what about you, Allen?”

Allen exhaled.

“I think,” he said, his voice thickening just slightly, “now I can feel what a dad feels like.”

A beat.

“And I can finally give the kid in me the dad I wanted.”

Silence.

Even the toddlers seemed to hush for a second, distracted by their father’s tone, or maybe the stillness in the way he held them, gentle, solid, present.

He kissed his son’s head again. That same dark hair. That same stubborn curl near the crown that never laid flat no matter how much you combed it.

“I’m not perfect,” Allen added, voice low. “I probably never will be. But I won’t leave. I won’t disappear. I’ll be here.”

“You already are,” Jane said softly, folding a napkin into a triangle beside her empty plate. She hadn’t said much this morning, but her smile now was filled with something warm and old. “Every morning. Every tantrum. Every time one of them throws a spoon.”

Larissa chuckled. “Or bites someone.”

Vivian raised an eyebrow. “Or glues feathers to the cat.”

“Oh god,” Mila groaned. “Please don’t bring that up again.”

“Hey, he looked majestic!” Allen defended, hand rising as the girls burst into laughter. “Besides, it was temporary glue.”

“You say that like you weren’t covered in glitter for three days,” Zoe chimed in from the corner, brushing toast crumbs from her lap.

“Still sparkles under sunlight,” Shea teased.

The laughter that followed wasn’t loud, but it was full. Full of inside jokes. Of exhaustion. Of quiet pride. The kind that only comes from surviving diaper explosions, teething nights, sick days, and baby steps. The kind that only comes from love.

Azura leaned her head on Allen’s shoulder, gently avoiding the clingy horde still latched onto him.

“You’re doing good,” she said, barely a whisper.

He blinked at her.

“You always think you’re not. But you are. They adore you.” She poked one of the girls still clinging to his arm. “Even if they treat you like a jungle gym.”

“Daddy’s mine,” one of the girls declared.

“No, mine!”

“Mine!”

“Oh, here we go,” Allen muttered, deadpan. “Kingdoms will fall. Blood will be shed.”

But he was smiling.

Even as his tie got pulled again. Even as the boy on his leg began babbling something that sounded suspiciously like a spell. Even as Bella gave him a meaningful look that clearly meant “Don’t let them ruin your shirt again.”

He just held them all tighter.

The kids. The moment. The life he built with every drop of chaos and love he never thought he’d deserve.

The clink of forks. The soft thud of toddler feet. The warm hum of voices rising again, casual, overlapping, real.

He didn’t say anything for a while after that. Just sat there, suit slightly wrinkled, hair messed up by curious baby hands, and his chest full of more love than he knew what to do with.

It was never easy.

But it was always worth it.

Note: Thank you for reading till the end. Hope we’ll meet again on the next story. Merry Christmas all and happy new year~

Thank you for the Dragon, William_Tex!

Thank you for the gifts, Dunkun, Even_Gods_Can_Die!