Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1902

Chapter 1902: Haunted Wedding

Villain Ch 1902. Haunted Wedding

Reflex.

Pure, bloody reflex.

His body moved before his brain caught up.

Twin daggers unsheathed in a flash of motion—black steel gleaming in the afternoon sun, vibrating with residual code that hummed like a heartbeat.

Zoe cracked her knuckles.

Jane’s shadow twitched.

Shea already had a song spell humming on her lips.

Larissa’s eyes bled red for a second.

Vivian arched a brow like she was deciding whether to seduce or destroy.

Bella just lowered her stance with one hand glowing faintly.

Alice raised her hand.

It all happened in under a second.

Then—

“WHOA WHOA WHOA!!”

The hooded figure backed up. Fast. Arms raised. Long raven-colored cloak flaring like a panicked crow.

“It’s me! Guys! It’s me!”

Allen blinked.

Eyes narrowed.

Then he recognized her.

“…Azura?”

She pulled her hood back with a shaky smile. “Y-yeah?”

The entire party exhaled at once, like a collective sigh of ‘we almost gutted you.’

“Oh my god,” Bella muttered. “You can’t just sneak up on someone after a haunted wedding.”

“Haunted what now?” Azura asked, stepping forward slowly, hands still up. “What the hell happened to you guys? You look like you just got chased by an eldritch wedding planner.”

“That’s… not far off,” Allen said, sliding his daggers back into their sheathes. His voice was low, even. Still a little raw. “We just finished a horror quest.”

“No kidding,” Azura muttered. Her gaze scanned them one by one. “You all look like you bathed in grave dust and trauma.”

“It was trauma,” Shea said bluntly. “Looping horror dungeon. Weird NPC. Cursed marriage ritual. You know. A Tuesday.”

Azura grimaced. “That bad?”

“Worse,” Allen said. “We were genuinely starting to think we were stuck in a permanent quest loop.”

“Yeah,” Zoe added, popping a neck joint with a loud crack. “The kind that resets your progress and makes you scream at your VR device until your neighbors file a noise complaint.”

Azura winced. “Shit. No wonder you’re jumpy.”

“And horny,” Vivian added, completely unhelpfully.

Azura blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Ghost trauma makes people emotional,” Vivian said with a little shrug, pretending to be an expert in psychology. “Emotions make people vulnerable. Vulnerability leads to horniness. It’s basic NPC psychology.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Jane muttered.

“I’m a doctor of lust magic, thank you,” Vivian replied, flipping her hair. “Respect the degree.”

Azura just stared. “I forgot how weird you all are when you’re not killing things.”

Allen’s mouth quirked up. Not quite a smile. Not yet.

“Anyway,” he said, turning a bit, stretching his shoulders. “We just needed to check the city. Make sure we weren’t still trapped in that loop. The NPC was—off. Real off. Made us think we were still inside even after quest clear.”

Azura nodded slowly. “That’s messed up.”

“Yup.”

“And now what?”

Zoe clapped her hands. “Relieve stress. Check the market. Drop some of our loot. And maybe… drink ourselves stupid?”

Allen lifted a hand. “I second that. A drink sounds like heaven.”

“Trauma drinking party?” Azura said with a raised brow. “I’m down. Let me just—”

“WELL, WELL, WELL—”

A new voice. Rich. Confident. A little too loud. Like a man who knew how to win a guild war and deliver a sermon in the same breath.

Allen turned.

And yeah. Of course.

Arcana.

High Paladin. Leader of Ironclad Legion. Azura’s guildmaster. The kind of man who somehow made polished steel armor look casual.

He stood there like a fantasy cover model—gold-and-blue enchanted armor gleaming in the sunlight, radiant cape fluttering even though there was no wind. His sword was strapped across his back in that dramatic “I never actually use this unless it’s a cutscene” kind of way.

A few players nearby started whispering. Of course they did. This man was legend in the PvP scene.

“Look what we found here,” Arcana said, stepping forward with an easy smile. “Allen Goldborne, in the wild. Surrounded by deadly beauties. And not murdering anyone. Yet.”

Allen raised a brow. “Hey, Arcana.”

The paladin nodded. “Been a while. You usually avoid crowded places. What gives? Out for groceries? Or looking for a raid to ruin?”

“I’d say ‘long story’ but it’s really just a bad one,” Allen muttered.

Arcana tilted his head. “…You look like someone who just watched a horror movie and then lived it. What happened?”

Allen just met his gaze. “Worse.”

A pause.

Arcana blinked.

“…Define worse.”

“NPC looped us into a haunted wedding simulation where we had to kill the bride, the priest, the guests, and maybe God.”

“Repeatedly,” Shea added.

“With mood lighting,” Zoe chimed in.

“And cursed monologues,” Jane said.

“Greg the Garlic Farmer was a warlock,” Alice added cheerfully.

Arcana looked between them all. “What the hell did I just hear?”

Azura held up her hands. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“You weren’t there,” Bella muttered. “There were ghosts in bridal veils. They clapped when we walked in.”

Vivian smirked. “It was kind of cute. In a ‘soul-stealing eternal damnation’ kind of way.”

“Okay,” Arcana said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. So you’re telling me you just did a horror dungeon that tried to trap you in a cursed wedding… and now you’re here to drink?”

Allen nodded once. “Exactly.”

“Gods above,” Arcana muttered. Then clapped Allen on the shoulder with a chuckle. “Only you could come out of that and want a drink instead of therapy.”

Allen smirked faintly. “Therapy doesn’t drop loot.”

“That’s fair.”

Azura glanced between the two. “You guys done having a bro moment or what? Because I could really use a damn cocktail.”

“Oh,” Vivian grinned, stepping beside Allen, arm sliding into his, “I know just the tavern. Rooftop seating. Cheap drinks. Mirrors on the ceiling.”

Zoe gagged. “No. No. I don’t want to see myself drink after this week.”

Jane sighed. “Just pick a normal bar. One that doesn’t glow or flirt.”

Arcana looked amused. “You know what? I’ll come with. This I have to see.”

Allen blinked. “You’re joining us?”

“Yeah,” Arcana said. “It’s not every day I get to drink with the son of the game owner and his girlfriends.”

Allen didn’t respond.

He just walked.

The group followed.

Through the city. Toward the tavern.

Breathing.

And maybe, just maybe—

Healing.

With drinks. And sarcasm.

And hopefully, the bartender’s name wasn’t Greg.

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