Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1945: Where’s My Meat?
Chapter 1945: Where’s My Meat?
Villain Ch 1945. Where’s My Meat?
Their footsteps echoed down a narrow hall where the wallpaper peeled like dried skin. The floorboards groaned.
Every few meters, a child’s drawing appeared on the walls. Crayon. Messy.
Stick figures burning.
Tables filled with meat.
A mother, smiling.
[New Objective Pending…]
No pop-up. Just… a sense. A pulling. Like a thread tied to your gut.
Allen walked in the back, silent. Watching every shadow. Measuring every squeak.
Red muttered, “If another ghost child jumps out, I’m punching it.”
Alex adjusted his staff, still pale. “Please don’t say that. You’ll jinx it.”
Mastercraft huffed. “I’ve got one holy grenade left. Don’t make me use it on you.”
The hallway twisted. Literally. One second they were walking straight. The next, they were angled like the floor was a spiral.
The lights began to pulse.
One blink.
Two.
Darkness.
Silence.
Then—
Footsteps.
Tiny. Wet.
Dripping sounds like raw meat falling on marble.
Allen said nothing. He didn’t need to.
They knew.
The hallway was quiet—but not still.
Wet slaps echoed as something landed behind them. Another. And another.
Red turned slowly. “…It’s the kids again, isn’t it?”
A hunk of raw flesh flopped onto the floor. No shape. No reason. Just meat.
Another landed from above—slapping the wooden boards near Alex’s feet.
Then another.
And another.
Chunks of meat rained down from the ceiling, some fresh, some rotting. Still twitching.
They weren’t spectral. These were real. Heavy. Slippery. One bounced off Mastercraft’s shoulder and left a trail of blood down his armor.
“What the actual—” Red started.
Then a thud echoed.
A real one.
Not playful. Not childlike.
Heavy.
The ground vibrated beneath their boots.
THUD!
And again.
THUD!
A dragging sound. Something scraping behind the wall. Metal.
Then came the sound of something being dragged. Iron. Rust. Stone-grating.
A clang.
Then silence.
A message flickered across their HUDs.
[MINI BOSS ENCOUNTERED]
[OBJECTIVE: DEFEAT THE CARVER. RETRIEVE HIS HEART. COOK IT.]
No one moved.
Allen’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. Something colder.
From the far end of the hallway—fog rolled in. The lights dimmed.
And then he emerged.
THE CARVER <Lv. 251>
Seven feet tall. Bare-footed. Skin like old wax, pale and veined. Wearing a butcher’s apron stained with dried blood and arcane sigils burned into the fabric.
His arms were muscular, but wrong. Too long. Covered in carved runes. Fingers ended in rusted rings and stitched gloves.
His eyes? Covered with a black cloth—sewn into his skull. Threads pierced skin. Blood trickled down like tears.
Over one shoulder—he carried a massive cleaver-sword hybrid. Jagged and serrated. The size of a man. Every movement made it scream against the floor.
He stopped. Tilted his head. Sniffed.
Then—he spoke.
“…Where’s my meat?”
His voice was deep. Like a pit. Like something long buried.
Red’s sword clanked against his armor as he lifted it slowly. “Oh… no.”
Alex whimpered, clutching his staff like a lifeline. “Please no. No food quest. No cannibal quest. Spare me.”
Mastercraft gagged. “It says cook his heart. Are you serious? That’s the reward? That’s the objective?”
The Carver raised his sword with one hand. Pointed it toward them blindly.
“Fresh. Warm. Screaming. My favorite kind.”
He stepped forward.
[The Carver activated Gluttonous Lunge]
He vanished.
Then reappeared mid-swing.
His cleaver slammed the ground where Red had just dodged. The floor cracked. Meat exploded from the walls—hunks of raw flesh and bone shooting outward like shrapnel.
Allen slipped sideways effortlessly, not even touched. He didn’t blink.
Red recovered with a growl and activated his berserker stance.
“BLOOD HOWL.”
He charged. Met the Carver head-on.
Sparks flew as sword met cleaver. The sound wasn’t metal—it was wet. Like meat being chopped, over and over.
Mastercraft circled left, hammer spinning, and shouted, “Alex—buff now!”
[Holy Blessing and Agility applied to party]
[Protective Barrier Active]
“Make it count!” Alex yelled. “I’m low on mana!”
Red unleashed a flurry of blows, slashing into the Carver’s chest. It cut. Deep.
But the Carver didn’t scream. Didn’t flinch.
He laughed.
And his stomach split. Literally.
Out came chains. Hooks. Meat-hooks, with tongues wrapped around them.
“What the fck!” Red barked, backpedaling as the hooks flailed around.
Allen moved again—fluid, impossible. His daggers gleamed as he struck the hooks mid-air, cutting their chains.
The Carver twitched. Turned toward Allen.
“Silent one… delicious soul…”
Allen didn’t respond. Just tilted his head.
“Back off!” Mastercraft shouted, leaping with a powered slam.
“FORGEMASTER’S WRATH!”
The hammer hit square in the Carver’s shoulder. There was a CRACK—bone broke.
The Carver roared. Black smoke poured from the wound. It wasn’t blood, it was regret. Visions. Screams. Murmurs of the ones he carved before.
Alex cast again.
[Divine Ward – Damage Reduction Applied]
The Carver spun, sword carving a path through the floor. Red ducked, Mastercraft blocked, Alex screamed and rolled back as a hook missed his ankle by inches.
Allen flickered. Blink-step behind the boss.
He stabbed low,into the tendons behind the Carver’s knees. A clean slice. Then another.
The Carver buckled. Screamed. Swung his cleaver wildly.
[Status Effect: Limping. Movement Speed Reduced]
Red saw the opening. “NOW!”
He leapt. Sword glowing crimson.
[Crimson Fang – High Crit Bonus]
Red’s blade carved through the Carver’s shoulder and into the blindfold. Flesh split. Bone cracked.
Still, he moved.
Still, he laughed.
“I AM HUNGER. YOU CANNOT STARVE ME.”
Chains lashed again. Mastercraft took a hit to the arm and skidded back. Armor dented. “Goddamn! He’s insane!”
“Correction!” Alex shouted, casting another barrier. “He’s hungry and insane!”
Allen moved again. Under the arms. Through the smoke. Daggers sliced into the Carver’s side. Quick. Deep. Precision cuts.
Every hit—sapped movement. Cut tendons. Pierced joints.
The Carver stumbled.
Red slashed again. Mastercraft smashed the cleaver out of his hand.
Alex, breathing hard, held his staff with both hands. “You want a meal, asshole?”
He jammed the staff into the floor.
“Sacred Rejection!”
A golden sigil exploded beneath the Carver. He twitched. Convulsed.
“EAT THIS.” Red and Mastercraft shouted together.
A double slam, sword and hammer, straight into his chest.
