Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1758: PvP or Revenge Plots?

Chapter 1758: PvP or Revenge Plots?

Villain Ch 1758. PvP or Revenge Plots?

He rolled to the side at the last moment, knocked Elio’s wrist up with the blunt end of his dagger, and moved behind him in one seamless blur of motion. Then stabbed—not at the spine, but at the lower back just above the armor seam.

[HP -11%]

“Okay, seriously,” Elio gasped, twisting away. “Are you built for PvP or revenge plots?”

Allen gave a half-smile. “Both?”

Red_King laughed from the sidelines. “That’s his playstyle! Cold, clean, and rude!”

Yuna added, “You’re not fighting a player. You’re fighting a damn problem.”

Elio exhaled hard. His lungs were burning. “No. I’m fighting a boss mob that doesn’t even drop loot!”

Allen grinned with all the wrong kinds of charm. “That’s your punishment.”

Elio’s eyes narrowed. No way he was losing this easy.

He activated Holy Guard—his armor shimmered with gold light, shield blooming with auto-parry effects, minor regeneration flowing through his frame.

Then he charged.

Not with finesse. With force.

He slammed into Allen with shield-first brutality, expecting impact, recoil, resistance—

Allen let him.

For a half second, Elio thought he had him. Pushed Allen back a step— but Allen pivoted around the pressure, ducked low, and locked his daggers behind Elio’s left arm, between elbow joint and chestplate.

Then threw him.

Elio hit the ground shoulder-first and rolled twice before staggering upright.

[HP -7%]

[Status: Dizzy]

His world spun slightly. The heat wasn’t helping.

“You are—” he panted.

Allen finished for him. “Annoying? Unfair? The worst?”

“—awesome,” Elio muttered. “I hate it.”

Allen chuckled. It wasn’t smug. Just dark.

Elio wiped sweat from his brow. Alright. Enough warm-up.

He activated Holy Charge.

His fastest gap-closer. A golden streak of motion, high-speed sword rush, near-unblockable at close range.

He rushed in, blade forward, shield locked.

And Allen—vanished.

Literally blinked.

No sound. No trail.

Just gone.

Elio’s eyes widened, heart hammering. “Wha—?”

Behind him.

Allen reappeared right behind him, just as Elio pivoted to correct.

The dagger slipped under the pauldron, not breaking armor—but finding the gap between neckguard and collar.

[HP -21%]

[Critical Hit]

Elio dropped to one knee. Breathing ragged.

The system blinked to life.

[Duel Over. Winner: Al]

The notification hung in the heat a moment longer than it should’ve. Like even the game wasn’t surprised.

Elio knelt there, catching his breath, the sting of heat and effort crawling across his back.

Then—he laughed.

Quiet. Wheezy.

“…Totally worth it.”

Allen stepped forward and offered a hand. “You’re not bad.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Elio smirked, taking the grip and hauling himself upright. “Let me at least pretend I almost had you.”

The others clapped from the sidelines. Light applause. Yuna gave a low whistle, already holding out a water flask.

Alex stepped forward next, his hand already glowing with soft white light. “Hold still,” he said, voice casual but focused. The warm glow of Healing Light washed over Elio’s battered frame—gentle and weightless, like standing in sunlight that knew where it hurt.

[HP Restored +58%]

[Status Effects Cleared]

Elio let out a long breath as the soreness faded from his chest and shoulder. “Gods, I love that spell. I’d marry it if I wasn’t already emotionally committed to revenge.”

Alex grinned. “Too bad. It’s in a long-term relationship with cooldown timers.”

Red_King barked a laugh. “You should’ve brought it into the duel. Maybe Healing Light could’ve parried Allen’s ego.”

Allen, still wiping his dagger on his coat hem, didn’t even look up. “My ego doesn’t need parrying. It dodges on its own.”

Elio rolled his shoulders, flexing his now-restored limbs with a groan. “Thanks, man. Now I can walk back without looking like I got mugged by a sandstorm.”

Alex nodded and tapped his mana ring, already recharging. “Anytime. I’m starting to think carrying healing spells around Allen is just a survival instinct.”

Red_King just crossed his arms. “Told you. Fighting him’s like playing chess with a ghost who already read your next five turns.”

Elio chugged half the flask. “Correction. A ghost with zero chill.”

Alex grinned. “Yeah. Still not over that one backflip stab thing. That was personal.”

“It was surgical,” Yuna added. “Like he knew exactly where Elio’s armor ended and his neck began.”

“He did,” Elio muttered. “He definitely did.”

He shook his head, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead.

“You know what’s scary?” Elio said aloud. “Not just the fact that he won. Or how clean it was.”

The others turned toward him.

“It’s that he never once aimed for my armor. He knew it wouldn’t crack. He didn’t even try. He just… moved around it. Like it was irrelevant.”

Allen raised an eyebrow. “Why waste time on the part that’s built to survive?”

Red_King nodded sagely. “Exactly. It’s called fight economy.”

“It’s called being a menace,” Yuna countered.

Rei chimed in dryly, “It’s called not letting anyone rest at night anymore.”

Elio chuckled softly, rubbing his ribs.

His gear had held. Just as expected. But gear alone didn’t save you when the enemy didn’t play fair. When the enemy played smart.

And Allen?

Allen was terrifyingly smart.

A problem in the shape of a man.

And Elio couldn’t stop smiling.

Because finally—finally—he’d seen what was under the surface.

Not just skill. Not just talent.

But something colder.

More deliberate.

Like Allen had written the rulebook… and then tossed it for something better.

And yeah, Elio had lost.

But he learned.

And he liked what he saw.

Even if it made him sweat.

Even if he’d probably dream of dagger flicks and sand-baked duels for the rest of the week.

He clapped Allen on the shoulder. “Thanks for not slicing my jugular.”

Allen smirked. “It was on the list.”

Red_King sighed. “You two are chaos. We need snacks. Who’s buying?”

Allen raised a brow. “Loser buys.”

Elio groaned. “Goddammit.”

Everyone laughed.

Even Allen.

Even the problem himself.

Allen exhaled, and for a second, he didn’t look like a shadow made flesh or a chess-playing ghost or a secret boss hidden in human skin.

“But I can’t come with you guys,” he said quietly, glancing toward the city skyline—where the sandstone towers of Gorroc shimmered like heat mirages under the afternoon sun. “I’ve got another business.”