Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1631. Observe Only

The time was already past midnight.

Most players were offline. Most—not Elio.

He sighed as his boots echoed softly against the cobblestone of Ront City, the capital still alive with flickering lanterns, floating event banners, and sleepy post-raid NPC dialogue. His fingers dragged across the edge of a stall as he passed, eyes trailing upward. The moon above the city glitched slightly, a soft flicker in its texture loop—normal for the engine at this hour.

He wasn’t even raiding anymore. Earlier, sure—he and his team went deep into the Marsh Ruins and scored a cursed relic that screamed whenever someone touched it. Fun times. But that was hours ago.

Now?

He was here because James told him to be.

“Just log in for a bit. We need to talk.”

Yeah, that classic ominous tone. As if talking couldn’t be done through guild chat or DMs. Elio wasn’t an idiot. When James said talk, and added that Noah would be joining—he already knew.

This was about Sophia.

But they weren’t online yet.

Elio opened his guild status menu and squinted at the member list. Both of them were still marked as “offline – last active 4 hours ago.”

He closed the menu with an exaggerated sigh. “Seriously, guys?”

Fine. Whatever. He wasn’t just going to stand around like an idiot.

He wandered the market streets.

Ront City’s auction square was, as expected, busy even at midnight. Not with people, really—but with bodies. Player avatars lined up with blank faces, dead eyes, motionless poses. AFK stall mode. A weird mechanic for a VR game, but convenient. If you didn’t want to log out but needed to step away, your avatar just stood like an NPC and sold stuff automatically.

It was creepy as hell, if Elio was honest. All those player-shaped mannequins just standing, holding holographic item lists over their heads.

He moved between them slowly, eyes skimming over the goods. A lot of crap. Some overpriced materials. One guy was trying to sell used dungeon gear labeled “slightly cursed but mostly fine.”

He snorted.

Then— A flash of black moved past him.

Not an AFK.

Definitely not an NPC.

He froze. Narrowed his eyes. “Wait…”

The cloak. The posture. The boots. The way that player walked like the entire world was too loud and they were already three seconds from leaving.

“Is that…”

Elio didn’t finish the sentence. He was already moving.

He followed the figure through the stall maze. Past two fountains and a frozen ice cream cart. Until the player stopped—on the elevated platform in front of the Auction Master NPC.

Elio stepped onto the platform right as the figure turned around, expression already sour.

“You should stop following me like a stalker,” the player said, voice sharp, arms crossed.

Elio grinned the moment he saw the name above the guy’s head.

Al <Shadow Syndicate>

“Oh-ho,” Elio said, tilting his head. “Allen. Fancy seeing you here. Ront City. Midnight.”

Allen exhaled like someone already regretting being found. “Yeah. I usually don’t log in this late, but…” He gestured vaguely at the plaza. “Today’s been crowded. Too crowded. I wanted to check the market without being surrounded.”

“Ah,” Elio nodded. “Avoiding the social players. Understandable.”

They stood there for a second. Not quite awkward. Just… aware.

Elio shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “So, you heard what happened at the event? About Alex?”

Allen huffed softly, eyes flicking toward the auction listings. “Yeah. I wanted to congratulate him, actually. But, uh… he just made the impossible possible.”

Elio tilted his head. “Yeah, that was wild. I don’t think anyone expected him to land the first hit.”

Allen gave a dry little snort. “Exactly. Everyone was betting on a top-tier PvPer or one of the front-line raid guilds. Not the quiet, soft-spoken healer guy with the shiny holy aura.”

Elio grinned. “Honestly, that made it even better.”

Allen didn’t say anything for a second. His expression wasn’t angry, but there was a tension behind his eyes. One Elio recognized—too many thoughts, too little space to voice them.

“You look… what’s the word—grumpy?” Elio teased.

Allen shot him a look. “I’m not grumpy.”

“You are. You’re doing the mouth thing.”

Allen narrowed his eyes. “What mouth thing?”

“That mouth thing where you look like someone gave you diet cake and told you it was triple fudge.”

Allen stared blankly.

Elio grinned wider. “There it is.”

Allen exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just irritated, alright?”

Elio shrugged, relaxing against the platform rail. “Because of Alex?”

“No,” Allen muttered. “Because I can’t even have a spotlight.”

Elio blinked. “What?”

Allen gave a humorless smile. “I’m a Goldborne. Any time there’s a major event, or a tournament, or literally anything with potential PR eyes on it—I get told to stand down. ‘Observe only.’ ‘Let the others have the limelight.’ They don’t want me doing anything that might ‘overshadow the spirit of fair competition.'”

Elio whistled. “Yeah. That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Allen said flatly. “It’s not like I want to dominate everything. I just want to play. But instead, I get ‘strategically sidelined’ like a ticking PR bomb.”

Elio’s grin softened. “Well, when your last name is Goldborne, I guess people assume anything you touch turns into a media circus.”

Allen rolled his eyes. “Which is exactly why I sneak out at night like this. Less eyes. Less noise.”

Elio laughed. “And here I thought I was the only one doing shadow runs past midnight.”

Allen smirked. “Please. You think I like being up at 2AM in virtual boots?”

“Actually, yeah. You strike me as the brooding, insomnia-fueled, ‘I fight better under moonlight’ type.”

Allen made a show of looking at his reflection in a vendor’s glossy stall screen. “…Okay, that’s fair.”

“So,” Elio said, hopping up to sit on the edge of the auction platform, legs swinging lazily. “What’d you do while we were all busy at the event?”

Allen didn’t even pause. “Raiding dungeons.”

Elio raised a brow. “Seriously? During the biggest server-wide event of the month?”

“Exactly why I went,” Allen replied, sounding almost smug. “The high-level zones were practically abandoned. No crowd. Just me, my blade, and an unreasonable number of elite mobs.”

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