Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 2020

Capítulo 2020: Flagship Villain

Villain Ch 2020. Flagship Villain

Allen and his girls didn’t glance back.

Reporters scrambled down the stairs from the side entrance. Security hesitated for half a second, unprepared for the sudden swarm. Microphones were thrust forward like weapons. Camera flashes erupted. Drones buzzed like flies.

“Allen! That last execution… Was it scripted?!”

“Is this your real team from now on? Are you competing again?”

“The main villain was it you all along?! No A.I.?!”

“Who trained you? Was that real PvP or were the matches fixed?!”

“What do you say to fans who think this was overkill?”

“What’s your next plan?! Will you challenge the world bracket?”

He didn’t stop.

Not even when a reporter stepped directly in his path and almost tripped.

Not even when a mic tapped his shoulder.

Allen didn’t say a word.

But he did something worse.

He smiled.

That same twisted, sharp smile. Not cruel. Not kind. Just that wicked curve of control. It was enough. People screamed. A girl near the front clutched her chest and fell to her knees like she’d been hit by a spell. Some fans sobbed. Some laughed. Some just raised their phones higher to capture the moment.

The stage crew tried to form a barrier between the reporters and the team, but the moment had already gone viral. Allen didn’t have to say a single thing. His silence was the message.

Backstage, staff members and devs emerged, whispering frantically to each other.

“They weren’t briefed, right?”

“No one scripted that fight?”

“Are we even allowed to air this replay again?”

Kafra stepped into the hallway from the side corridor, clipboard in hand, heels clicking on the tile. She looked crisp and composed, black-rimmed glasses perched perfectly, headset still crackling faint admin comms in one ear. Her blazer was sharp, tailored, sleeves rolled to the forearm like she wasn’t here to babysit panic.

“Calm down,” she said, voice smooth but cutting through the noise like a knife. “Don’t worry. It was half scripted.”

“Half?!” one of the assistant producers blurted, spinning toward her.

Kafra turned to him with a raised brow. “Yes. Half. And only a few of us were in the loop.”

Another dev, still holding a tablet with shaky fingers, asked, “So… what exactly was planned? Because that didn’t feel like a marketing reel. That felt like an apocalypse.”

Kafra’s lips curled slightly. She adjusted her glasses and said, “The scripted part was only Mr. Goldborne’s entry.”

She tilted her head, eyes sharp now.

“The rest? All genuine. Every attack. Every emotion. Every breakdown. All real.”

Someone choked on their coffee behind the vending machine.

“So you’re telling me,” a voice said slowly, “that Elio’s breakdown, the fight and all… that was real?”

Kafra nodded.

“Yeah. Mr. Goldborne ruled him. And I ruled him too.”

The dev blinked. “What?”

She smiled politely. “I mean psychologically. There’s a reason I agreed to keep the cameras rolling.”

They all turned toward the monitors again. Dozens of media drones were still swarming the stage. People outside were chanting Allen’s name like he’d just walked off a movie set. Kafra glanced out the glass wall, watching fans cry, scream, post, and repeat.

She nodded once, slowly.

“Both of Mr. Goldborne got the reaction they wanted.”

Meanwhile, in one of the velvet-lined VIP boxes overlooking the whole stadium, the atmosphere was somehow more intense than even down below. The wall-length window dimmed itself automatically every few seconds to reduce screen glare from the field. A fresh round of expensive drinks had just been poured into frosted glasses. Everything smelled like cold citrus, leather seats, and money.

Emma leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, watching the screen in silence. Her lips were parted, jaw slightly slack. She didn’t blink when the replay hit again, Allen’s blade slipping through Red, the crowd roaring like animals.

“Holy shit,” one of the investors said, exhaling through his nose like he’d just watched a miracle. “That kid…”

“He didn’t even touch the barrier of fair play,” another muttered, voice equal parts shocked and impressed. “He shredded it and rewrote the narrative mid-battle. Do you understand what that means for public retention?”

The oldest one in the room leaned back, nursing a tumbler of bourbon. His white hair was perfectly combed, his tie loosened slightly now. “It means we’ve got a flagship villain,” he said. “The kind you build entire franchises around.”

Emma didn’t move.

Jordan, across from her, sat with one leg crossed, hands tented beneath his chin. He was staring down at the field with that look in his eyes, like he was seeing five moves ahead. Ten, maybe.

But his jaw was tight.

And his heartbeat, if anyone had a stethoscope right then, would’ve sounded like war drums.

“I didn’t expect this much…” one of the dev-backed investors admitted, scrolling his tablet furiously. “We pushed for a villain slot. Sure. But not this. The reaction is already out of control. Social media’s crashed three tag filters. We haven’t seen this kind of spike since— hell, not even our A.I. announcement got this kind of burn.”

“He’s not just a villain,” the older one murmured again, voice low. “He’s a myth. Real-time. People don’t want to be him. They want to fear him.”

Someone else piped up. “Or date him.”

Emma sighed at that and finally spoke. “Of course they are.”

Jordan gave her a look, but didn’t disagree.

“I mean,” Emma added dryly, “he did walk out of that pod like a villain in a dating sim. Full entourage. Silent exit. That smile?”

Another investor laughed. “You know, it’s kinda funny, Jordan. You got lucky. Most families need generations to create a legacy. And you… what, just found yours again?”

Jordan didn’t answer at first.

He adjusted his cuffs slowly, then finally looked toward the group.

“Allen isn’t a legacy,” he said. “He’s an anomaly.”

The room stilled.

Jordan’s voice was cool, even.

“I lost him for years. And somehow, without the Goldborne name, without the resources, without the brand… he forged something stronger. Something people don’t question.”

He stood slowly, walking to the glass wall.

Outside, Allen was still making his way toward the lift that would carry them off the stage. Reporters swarmed, security scrambled. Fans shoved signs and phones.

“He doesn’t need us,” Jordan said finally. “That’s the difference. But we need him now.”

Emma stood beside him. Her lips twitched. “You think he’s gonna let us keep riding this?”

Jordan smiled faintly.

“If we play smart, yes.”

He turned to the others.

“Greenlight full allocation on Pod Project expansion. We want this in global test markets within the quarter.”

Another nod. “Agreed.”

“And the next tournament?”

“Sponsors are already lining up.”

Jordan exhaled through his nose. “Good. Get the branding team on him before the fan edits write the narrative for us.”

Emma didn’t say anything for a second. Then, softly, “You know what I’m thinking?”

Jordan glanced at her.

She grinned, sharp as glass.

“Allen just proved one thing better than any marketing team ever could.”

“What’s that?”

Emma raised her glass and clinked it against his.

“That the Devil Emperor was never a character. He’s just Allen with better lighting and costume.”

Jordan chuckled.

The whole room laughed.

But none of them took their eyes off the screen.

Because down on that stage, walking like the cameras weren’t burning for him, Allen hadn’t looked back once.

And the world?

The world had already crowned him.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

Thank you for the Dragon William_Tex!

600 Power Stone = 1 bonus chapter

400 Golden Ticket= 1 bonus chapter

Magic Castle= 2 bonus chapters

Space Craft= 4 bonus chapters

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