Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1933: Peak Hours
Chapter 1933: Peak Hours
Villain Ch 1933. Peak Hours
He cleared ten players in two minutes flat. Some were barely level 90. He didn’t care. They came for loot. He came for blood.
When the notifications were done, he opened the teleport list again.
“Now for the second part…” he murmured. “Find a quiet place to grind. Secluded. Safe.”
But then he paused.
It was Sunday.
Peak hours.
The server’s population was nearly maxed. Events, world bosses, PvP arenas—every corner of Hell’s Gate would be crawling.
Which meant even the highest-tier dungeons had campers. Farmers. Gankers.
He didn’t want to risk running into someone stupid enough to challenge him. Because even if he could win, any lag could cost him.
Allen teleported back to the crypts.
Stood still at the base of the steps.
Arms crossed.
“…I don’t think I can hunt as Devil Emperor today,” he muttered.
Not worth the risk.
He needed a quieter identity. A second skin.
A softer mask.
He smirked slightly.
“Then… should I hunt as Al?”
The irony was—he was probably more terrifying as Al. Because Al didn’t announce his presence. He was the whisper before the wipe. The question mark that turned into a killfeed flood.
Yeah.
Allen grinned.
“Let’s switch it up.”
And just like that—he activated his Camouflage skills.
Devil Emperor gone.
And changed into Al.
The shift was instant. Cloak swapped to a faded hood. Horns tucked away. The radiant armor of the Emperor dissolved into sleek black leathers with dull metal plating and shadow-thread accents. His weapon set switched too—no infernal blade. Just dual daggers laced with poison effects and one throwing knife that could silence a mage mid-cast.
He wasn’t the center of fear anymore. He was the edge of it.
“Great,” he muttered, pulling up his UI hologram with a flick of his fingers. “Now… which dungeon?”
He tapped through the interface, skimming dungeon entries, checking active zones. Player count radar glowed in overlays across the minimap. Most places were full. Bright red. Groups everywhere.
He winced. “Nope. Nope. Hell no. Oh wow, that one’s got three guild wars in progress. Big nope.”
He scrolled further, filtering for high level, low traffic, non-event zones. Finally, one flick toward the bottom caught his eye.
[Eldergourne Manor]
[Player activity: Low]
[Recent deaths: 2]
[Loot drop rate: Above average]
He tapped the info window, then smirked. “That’ll do.”
It wasn’t meta. It wasn’t trendy. Which meant most people ignored it. But the bosses still dropped rare loots, and the enemies gave solid exp. Plus, it was creepy and secluded enough that most casuals hated it.
Perfect.
He turned, walked through the flickering blackstone halls of the crypt’s teleport chamber, and stepped onto the portal.
[Destination: Eldergourne Manor]
[Teleporting…]
Light flashed—
And he arrived.
The manor loomed like something from a forgotten noble’s nightmare. Massive wrought-iron gates half broken, ivy curling like veins over cracked marble statues of mourning angels. The front door was tall, splintered at the base, half-hinged like it’d been kicked open a century ago and no one cared to fix it. Fog curled low across the front courtyard, pale blue and glowing faintly under the moonlit sky.
Allen stood at the end of the broken path, cloaked in shadow, and just… stared at it.
He tilted his head slightly.
“Yup. No players around. Perfect.”
He took one step forward.
And then—
“IS THAT ALLEN?!”
Allen froze.
That voice.
No. Please no.
He slowly turned his head.
And there they were.
Red_King. Full berserker armor set with his flaming greatsword already on his back.
Mastercraft. Standing beside him in his usual gold-forged armor with encrusted runes that definitely cost more real-world cash than a used car. Casual. Cool. Dead behind the eyes like only a P2W king could be.
And behind them, sheepishly waving—Father^Alex. Their healer. Robes pristine. Staff elegant. The kind of shy that you’d think was harmless until he resurrected the whole party while tanking with a holy shield.
Allen muttered under his breath, “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“Yo!!” Red_King jogged over like a golden retriever on a mission. “Allen! What are you doing here?!”
Allen blinked. “That’s supposed to be my question. What are you guys doing here?”
“Hunting, obviously,” Mastercraft replied, smirking. “This is our fallback dungeon. Not flashy, but the drop rates are stable.”
Allen narrowed his eyes. “I came to grind. Solo.”
Red_King grinned, clapping one giant hand on Allen’s shoulder. “Perfect!”
Allen flinched. “Wait—what’s perfect?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah,” Mastercraft said, walking up on his other side and grabbing Allen’s other shoulder. “Because our DPS bailed.”
Allen’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you guys had two.”
“We did,” Red_King said brightly. “One went on a date.”
“The other one,” Mastercraft added with a flat stare, “decided jogging at the Car Free Day event was more important than clearing dailies.”
Father^Alex stepped closer, fidgeting with his staff. “S-sorry to bother you, Allen. But we’re a little… shorthanded.”
Allen glanced at them, then slowly looked around the manor entrance again.
“Come on,” Red_King said, bouncing on his heels. “We need another DPS, and you’re one of the best.”
“That’s not even flattery,” Mastercraft added. “It’s just statistical fact. You’re mid-tier in appearance but top-tier in output.”
“That sounded worse,” Alex mumbled.
Allen sighed deeply.
“I was gonna solo grind,” he muttered. “Just clear the quest. Get out. Chill.”
“Chill?” Red_King grinned, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Buddy, nothing’s more chill than clearing a dungeon with us.”
Allen looked at the glowing hellfire sword. Then at the holy staff. Then at Mastercraft’s absurdly customized hammer.
Then at himself.
Cloaked rogue with poison daggers and subtle skills.
He really didn’t belong with these three.
Still…
It wasn’t like he could say no without being suspicious.
And yeah, okay, fine—he kinda liked Red_King’s dumb enthusiasm.
Allen exhaled slowly. “Fine. One run.”
“Hell yeah!” Red_King shouted, fists pumping. “Let’s gooo!”
“Don’t shout,” Alex whispered nervously. “We’ll pull aggro…”
“We haven’t even entered yet,” Mastercraft said.
Allen shook his head slowly, muttering, “Yup. Definitely cursed.”
Still…
He followed them into the manor.
