Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1941 - Capítulo 1941: Lively Food
Capítulo 1941: Lively Food
Villain Ch 1941. Lively Food
In two minutes, the gallery floor was a massacre of half-formed ghosts and flickering afterimages.
Allen stared down at the final fading servant. Its mouth opened.
Mariella’s voice came through.
“We need to prepare the food soon.”
“So lively, so warm. So noisy.”
“Such… juicy… guests.”
Then silence.
[QUEST UPDATED: FIND MARIELLA. DISCOVER WHAT SHE’S COOKING.]
“What the hell kind of objective is that?!” Red_King barked. “I don’t care what she’s cooking!”
“I’m not eating anything she made!” Mastercraft snapped.
“Why not?” Allen asked flatly, cleaning his daggers on a fallen ghost’s tattered dress.
“Dude—” Mastercraft looked at him like he’d lost it. “It’s ghost food!”
“Undead is fine,” Red added, pacing. “Undead is dead with meat. Ghosts? Nah man. Ghosts are ideas. Bad ones.”
Alex hugged himself. “I’m not a fan of horror games. Or movies. Or, y’know, this entire questline.”
“You can’t even play erotica games, man,” Mastercraft confessed.
They all turned to look at Alex.
“What?” he shrugged. “Too much pressure. Expectations. Don’t judge me.”
“Focus.” Allen’s voice snapped through the dark.
They stood in the now-silent gallery, staring at each other and at the flickering quest log in the corner of their HUDs. No map. No compass. Just the suffocating feeling that every hallway was watching.
“Now… Where’s the kitchen?” Alex finally asked.
“Great question,” Mastercraft muttered. “Let’s go ask the fucking walls.”
They moved.
No map.
No mini-quest markers.
Only endless hallways looping in nonsensical turns. Every hallway looked the same—but never was. Lights flickered. Shadows stretched. They passed the same broken mirror four times. Alex started muttering prayers under his breath.
Then—
Alex stumbled.
Fell hard—palms scraping stone, a hiss of pain slipping past his teeth.
The team froze.
“You okay?” Red_King asked, already crouched in a defensive stance, sword raised like a lifeline.
Alex looked up, eyes wild, panic blooming across his face. “Someone grabbed my ankle!”
“That’s impossible,” Mastercraft said quickly, scanning the corridor floor with his glowing monocle. “There’s nothing—”
But then they saw it.
Shadows. Small. Squirming. Flickering like candlelight on gasoline.
Two ghostly children emerged from beneath an overturned bench, pale and see-through, crawling on all fours. They each held one of Alex’s boots like cherished dolls—rocking them, biting them. Their faces were twisted into delighted expressions, cheeks smeared with something dark and sticky, like ash and jelly.
Their mouths didn’t quite move right. Too wide. Too slow.
And their eyes—
Hollow. Black. Reflecting nothing.
Mastercraft staggered back, hand to his mouth. “I’m gonna throw up.”
“Are those… her kids?” Red asked, voice trembling.
Alex scrambled to his feet, pointing his staff. “Kill them!”
But the children giggled—light, airy, like a music box slowing down. They dropped the boots and sprinted deeper into the corridor, laughter echoing. Their limbs bent wrong. Too fast. Too joyful.
“They’re luring us,” Allen said flatly. His voice was cold steel, emotionless, efficient.
“They’re pissing me off,” Red growled.
And he ran.
They all did.
Boots thundered across the warped floor, chasing laughter that bounced like echoes from every direction. Hallways blurred. Shadows danced. Doors blinked in and out of existence like breathing lungs.
Allen didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. His eyes tracked the route, calculated the maze.
The children flickered at the next corner, waving them forward, their jelly-slick fingers leaving smears on the walls.
Alex stopped. Just a second. “Wait—did the hallway just get shorter?”
The corridor groaned. A long, warping creak.
Behind them, the bench was gone.
So was the exit.
Alex’s voice cracked. “Guys… the exit is gone.”
They all turned.
Where the door once was—just cold wall now. No seam. No handle. Not even dust.
“…Shit,” Red_King muttered.
Mastercraft reached out and tapped it. Solid. Old. Real.
“Great,” he said dryly. “The house is editing itself. Love that.”
Allen didn’t blink. “Then we move forward.”
They had no choice.
The children didn’t lead them in a straight line. They darted through crumbling hallways and twisted parlor rooms, slipping through doors that shouldn’t exist. They laughed the whole time—a laughter that scratched against the inside of the skull, like nails on wet stone.
Finally, a double door appeared at the end of a crooked corridor. The kids ran through it, slamming it shut behind them with a heavy, meaty sound.
“Kitchen?” Alex asked, panting.
“I hope so,” Mastercraft muttered. “Or the fuckin’ meat locker.”
Allen didn’t say anything.
He opened the doors.
The kitchen was cold. Empty. Pristine.
Utensils hung neatly from overhead racks. Copper pans gleamed. A long oak counter was dustless. Too clean. No signs of life. Or death.
But the air?
Smelled wrong.
Salt. Blood. Charcoal.
Red_King stepped in first, sword drawn.
“No kids. No ghosts. Nothing.”
Alex followed, peering at the ceiling. “Maybe they’re in the vents—”
CLANG.
The stove behind them turned on.
All four froze.
No one moved.
The old iron stove coughed black smoke and then hissed to life, blue flame rising underneath a large cast iron pan. Oil bubbled.
Something… was cooking.
The scent hit them all at once.
Meat.
Fresh.
Sizzling.
A steak?
A heart?
They couldn’t tell.
Red_King staggered back. “That wasn’t like that before—”
“I think it’s our souls!” Alex cried. “Or our XP! I don’t know anymore!”
Allen walked forward, eyes never blinking.
He stared at the pan.
Inside it, a cut of meat sizzled.
It had a pulse.
Mastercraft dry-heaved. “I swear to god if that’s me—”
“It’s not.” Allen murmured. “Not yet.”
The cupboard beside the stove creaked.
They turned.
It opened slowly.
Inside? A mirror.
And in that mirror?
Mariella.
Standing behind them.
But when they turned…
Nothing.
No one.
Then…
“Dinner is almost ready,”
“Thank you for waiting so patiently.”
“You’ll be so… delicious.”
The kitchen door slammed shut behind them.
Locked.
The lights died.
And in the blue glow of the stove…
Two children stood on the counter now.
They grinned.
One held a cleaver.
The other?
An empty plate. Stained red.
Red_King hissed. “Oh hell no.”
The stove flared.
So did the fight.
And Allen?
Allen smiled, stepping forward with his knives out.
“I think I’m finally hungry.”
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