Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1932: A Man of Discipline
Chapter 1932: A Man of Discipline
Villain Ch 1932. A Man of Discipline
“I just wanted to wear my new lingerie,” Bella mumbled. “Then somehow, someone dared me to perform an interpretive dance on the coffee table.”
“You did amazing,” Allen said sincerely. “For someone who was half-asleep and three glasses deep.”
Bella groaned and pulled the pillow back over her face.
And then—
Larissa strolled in last, utterly unbothered. Not a single wrinkle on her cropped navy blazer. Leggings pristine. Hair pulled into a sleek ponytail like she was ready to host a wellness retreat and sell protein powder with her gaze alone.
She took one look at the entire harem, draped and groaning and sprawled across the private jet’s luxurious seating like survivors of a reality TV dating game show…
Then calmly sipped from her glass water bottle and said, “I feel like I should start offering gym coupons. Or group therapy.”
Allen chuckled. “They’d probably choose the therapy.”
“Actually,” Larissa said dryly, “based on last night’s positions, I think you need it most.”
That earned a groan chorus from half the girls.
“I have bruises in weird places,” Shea muttered.
“My back made a sound earlier,” Zoe added. “Like… an ancient door opening.”
“I’m never looking at whipped cream the same again,” Jane sighed.
“I told you not to aim it like that,” Allen said, not even bothering to defend himself.
Jane just flipped him off without lifting her head.
Larissa sat down beside him, legs crossed, perfectly poised. “And yet, here you are. Not even limping.”
Allen took another sip of water. “I am a man of discipline.”
“You are a menace,” Bella corrected from under her pillow.
“And I’m proud of it,” Allen said, leaning back into his seat as the jet engines hummed to life.
Zoe sat up just enough to give him a flat look. “Next vacation? Actual vacation. Soft pajamas. Blankets. Maybe a puzzle.”
“Tea,” Azura whispered.
“Foot rubs,” Jane added.
“No dares,” Bella grunted.
Larissa glanced at all of them. “You realize none of you can actually do a boring trip, right?”
There was a beat.
Then slowly… one by one…
They all sighed.
“…Yeah,” Vivian said. “You’re not wrong.”
Allen smirked behind his glass. “I’ll start looking for a cabin in the middle of nowhere.”
He leaned back, closed his eyes, and grinned.
Yeah.
This was perfect.
A mess. A disaster. But perfect.
And when the jet began to hum beneath them, rolling toward the runway, Allen reached up, adjusted his sunglasses, and whispered, “Let’s go home.”
It only took ten minutes.
Ten minutes for the chaos crew—his chaos crew—to completely pass out like someone had flipped the off switch.
Jane was face-down on her seat, blanket thrown over her head like a disgraced burrito.
Zoe leaned sideways into Shea, both of them slumped together like a pair of dolls tossed on a couch.
Vivian had curled her knees up and buried her face in the crook of her arm, still holding her phone but the screen had long gone black.
Bella dozed with her arms crossed like she was judging everyone in her sleep.
Azura was curled up with her seatbelt still on, clutching a travel pillow like a baby koala.
Alice mumbled something in Latin and drooled a little on her scarf.
Larissa, of course, slept with her back straight and neck perfectly aligned like her body knew proper posture even unconscious.
All of them? Gone.
Allen looked around slowly, almost like he couldn’t believe it. A whole plane of strong, sharp women—all sleeping like overworked interns after finals.
He leaned back into his seat and let out a low sigh.
“I guess I’ll sleep too,” he muttered.
He closed his eyes.
Waited.
Tried to focus on the drone of the engine, the subtle turbulence, the faint, sleepy rhythm of breath around him.
But nothing.
No sleep.
Not even drowsiness.
Of course not.
Allen never really napped. That was more of a myth people told themselves so they could feel “rested” without actually being unconscious.
Yesterday had been different. That wasn’t a nap—that was a physical and emotional shutdown. A hard system crash.
But now?
Now he was just… stuck. Awake. Alone with his thoughts.
He opened his eyes. Stared at the ceiling.
“Cool,” he muttered. “Love that for me.”
After a few more futile minutes, he reached into the side compartment of his bag and pulled out his compact VR headset.
Lightweight. Custom modded. Matte black.
He slid it on. Voice-controlled the boot.
“Alarm. Ten minutes before landing.”
[Alarm set.]
Good.
“Wi-Fi, connect. Hell’s Gate server. Ghost protocol on.”
[Connected. Ping stable. Entering…]
The startup chime echoed in his ears. The familiar rush of data. Pixels dissolving into form.
And then—
Dark stone. Fog. Massive, crooked gate flanked by spiked gargoyles. The cursed crypts. His base. His throne.
Allen’s avatar stepped forward out of the shadow gate, cloak trailing, horns glowing faintly. The game’s light engine made the bones around him gleam like wet marble.
Thera was waiting.
The ghost-maid NPC bowed deeply, her form glitching faintly as her spectral veil flickered. “Welcome home, my Lord.”
Allen didn’t answer. Not right away.
He looked around slowly.
Quiet.
The banners still hung high. The crypt torches still burned cold. But the space felt… emptier without the girls running around.
He sighed.
“…Right. Since I’m alone, I should do something solo too.”
His voice echoed faintly through the stone halls.
But yeah—he wasn’t going to risk anything big. Not today. The Wi-Fi was solid so far, but private jet or not, one glitch mid-fight and some jackass solo hunter could try to bag a Devil Emperor kill for clout.
Allen rolled his shoulders and muttered, “So… daily quest first.”
He navigated the menu. The usual [Eliminate 10 players.].
Simple enough.
He picked a mid-level dungeon. Level cap: 150.
Yeah, overkill.
That was the point.
Let them scream.
Let them run.
He teleported to the entrance, ignored the party of five chatting about loot distribution, and simply walked through them like fog.
[The Devil Emperor has entered.]
“What the f—” one of them gasped.
Too late.
Hellfire. Blade.
One slash.
Two.
Three.
[+1 Daily Kill]
[+1 Daily Kill]
[+1 Daily Kill]
[+1 Daily Kill]
[+1 Daily Kill]
