Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Chapter 1705: Bound

Villain Ch 1705. Bound

The throne room of the Cursed Crypts always felt colder after a victory.

Maybe it was the ancient bone pillars that loomed overhead, or the way the fire pits flickered with green instead of gold. Maybe it was just the echo—this place had a way of making triumph feel like a memory you weren’t supposed to enjoy for too long.

Allen sat on the Throne of Dread, one leg slung over the side like royalty that had long since stopped caring about protocol. His sword rested against the dais, blackened from the last fight, still faintly humming. Around him, the girls were sprawled across cracked cushions, low benches, or their usual spots—each of them radiating that post-war high with just a hint of chaos left over.

Larissa stretched out across the bloodstained steps of the throne like she was in a royal sunbath. Her black lace corset gleamed faintly under the torchlight. One leg crossed over the other, she looked far too comfortable for someone with a tragic villainess tag.

“So,” she purred, flicking a claw idly, “that means all of us already know our backstory now, huh?”

Shea was halfway into a cushion pile, fluffing her wings as she frowned. “Yeah, but like… why do you sound so okay with it?” She narrowed her eyes. “Like, not even a bit messed up? Your backstory was literally a cursed massacre. And a betrayal arc. And blood magic trauma. That doesn’t bother you?”

Larissa smirked and flipped her silvery-black hair back over her shoulder like a shampoo commercial from hell. “Please. I got a happy ending.” She stretched again, arching her back with a satisfied sigh. “The Devil Emperor adopted me~” she said, voice dripping like caramel and sin.

Allen didn’t react. At least, not visibly.

He kept his eyes half-lidded, his hand resting casually on his chin. But Larissa caught the faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. She always did.

“Happy ending?” Bella scoffed, lounging upside-down off a bench with a cup of undead wine. “Girl, you got a whole upgrade package. Cute castle. Blood army. Private teleport key to His Darkness’ lap.”

“She earned it,” Jane muttered without looking up from her necro-script journal. “We all suffered.”

“Well I haven’t even unlocked my full damn backstory yet,” she added with a huff, snapping the book shut. “Mine started in some cursed dungeon with a dead village and a vague curse. That’s it. We didn’t even kick the dungeon boss yet, let alone get the full event script.”

Zoe flopped down beside the throne with a loud sigh and an audible tentacle splat. “Hey, mine’s worse. At least you got a dungeon. My whole backstory was revealed in a single letter. A dead prince’s letter.”

“Oh yeah,” Shea added, snorting. “I remember that. I was traumatized by those mermen and mermaids.”

“Exactly!” Zoe said, throwing a hand up. “Players have already cleared it. I didn’t even get to say anything. Just, ’Oh yeah, by the way, Kraken Queen’s tragic past? Dead prince. Gutted. Fin.’ That’s it!”

Vivian leaned back against one of the columns, legs crossed, her whip curled lazily in her lap. “Well… at least we know what happened to us~” she said with a dramatic, teasing sigh. “Some of us still don’t have answers.”

“I do,” Bella said, raising her hand. “I just ignore it.”

Shea tilted her head. “Yours was… a mess.”

Bella grinned. “Yeah. But hey, I accepted it.”

Allen finally moved.

He exhaled—slow and deep—and leaned his head back against the throne, letting the cold of the crypt stone seep through him. His eyes tracked the dancing shadows on the cracked ceiling. No one saw it, but something in his chest tightened.

They joked about it.

Laughed. Complained.

But he remembered all of it.

Every backstory. Every tragedy. Every hidden script buried under boss gates and event triggers.

He had unlocked each of theirs manually.

Some through quests. Others through pure force.

It was interesting. All of them.

He didn’t save them.

He rewrote their loyalty in blood and seduction.

And sometimes—when he let himself think about it too long—it felt less like he’d built a team and more like he’d stitched together a family from broken glass.

But he wouldn’t tell them that.

“Honestly?” Allen said, his voice rough, quiet, but cutting through the air like a whip.

Everyone looked up.

“I think they gave those stories to prove something,” Allen said flatly, his voice low. “To tell the players you’re all bound to me. Loyal. Mine.”

Shea blinked slowly, then smirked.

“Yeah… that sounds more like you.”

Larissa tilted her head, resting her cheek on her hand with a sly smile.

“And you love the way it looks, don’t you? A throne full of monsters… all devoted to their Emperor.”

Jane crossed her arms, snorting.

“Still unfair. We should get to choose our trauma, y’know? I would’ve picked something fun. Like—evil pop star past. Betrayed by a manager. Stabbed with a glitter mic. Way more dramatic.”

Zoe poked her. “He already sang through murder.”

“And look fabulous doing it,” Shea added, fluffing her feathers.

“Still,” Jane muttered, flopping sideways on the throne room’s cursed velvet couch, “we should all go back and finish our side quests. Maybe the rest of our ’painful hidden lore’ is hiding behind a boss door and a hundred elite mobs. I mean… mine.”

Vivian smirked as she leaned against the edge of Allen’s obsidian throne, twirling her whip idly.

“Or another wine cellar with a locked coffin. Preferably with better wine this time.”

“Or at least a pillow,” Zoe mumbled, tentacles lazily coiled beneath her as she sprawled on the steps.

“It’s not a competition,” Shea said dryly, tuning her harp. “But if it were… I’d still win. Cursed temples, ritual, and betrayed by love. Classic tragic setup.”

“Sounds like a dating sim,” Larissa said, lounging with one leg crossed over the other. Her tone was smug, but light. “At least mine had a twist ending. I got saved by our lovely Emperor.”