Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1633. Real Fight

Elio chuckled despite himself. He was sweating, and not just from the fight. His brain was running full throttle just trying to keep up.

He slammed his sword into the ground.

“Heaven’s Ward.”

A burst of light flared out, momentarily blinding.

Allen backed off with a snort. “Cheap.”

“Says the guy teleporting with style.”

“You like my style.”

“…Unfortunately.”

They clashed again.

Blades against blades now.

No skills. Just raw, brutal melee.

Elio’s strikes were heavier. Grounded. Each blow like a truck rolling downhill.

Allen was water. Weaving. Ducking. Darting.

Steel sang.

CLANG

CLANG

CLANG-CLANG

Allen’s blade kissed Elio’s helmet— Glancing Blow.

He ducked, flipped, and spun around Elio’s guard.

Parried.

Elio blocked with a grunt. “You’re not even trying to land damage?”

Allen grinned. “I already won the moment you started sweating.”

“I’m a tank. I always sweat.”

“Yeah, but not like this.”

Elio growled and pushed forward hard.

“Radiant Barrage.”

Sword swings, powered by holy mana, hammered down like divine punishment.

Allen parried with both blades, dancing backward, his feet barely making a sound.

He didn’t get hit.

Not once.

Elio stumbled slightly from the momentum.

Allen took a step forward. And another. Slow.

“You’ve gotten better,” Allen said softly.

Elio blinked, surprised. “Wait, was that a compliment?”

Allen’s eyes glinted. “Don’t get used to it.”

Then— Both blades blurred black. Then struck.

Elio blocked the first.

The second?

It missed.

Barely.

A strand of Elio’s hair floated down to the floor, cut clean through.

“…You’re terrifying.”

Allen finally pulled back, flicking his blades around lazily. “And you’re still the hardest damn wall I’ve ever hit.”

The duel timer ticked.

3… 2… 1…

[Time’s up. Draw.]

Elio exhaled heavily.

Allen didn’t even look winded.

He just gave a little half-smile, spinning one of his blades like a pen between two fingers—smooth, casual, infuriating.

“Well,” Allen said, amused, “you didn’t cry.”

“I also didn’t win.”

“Nope,” Allen replied, stretching like a cat, one shoulder cracking faintly. “But you also didn’t die. So hey, that’s a win.”

Elio groaned, dropping down onto the platform again. But he wasn’t letting this go.

“Okay,” he said, standing back up and brushing off his coat. “Let’s be more serious now.”

Allen arched a brow. “You weren’t before?”

“No, I was,” Elio said. “But I want you to get serious. I know you’re just playing around.”

Allen blinked, amused. “What are you talking about? I used all my skills.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Elio snapped, his voice sharpening. “I’m not talking about skills. I’m talking about you. You didn’t even try to hit me.”

Allen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You want to get hit? What are you, a masochist?”

Elio scowled. “No. What the hell. I just want a real fight.”

Allen didn’t answer at first. The humor in his expression dimmed—not completely, but enough that his posture shifted. His fingers flexed around his blade handle. Less lazy. More… deliberate.

Elio stepped forward. “Let’s change the rules then. First to hit fifty percent HP loses.”

Allen tilted his head, eyes unreadable. “Fine then.”

[ System Alert: Duel Conditions Changed. ]

[ Victory Condition: First Player to Drop Below 50% HP – Loses. ]

[ Combat Logging Disabled. Area Secured. Countdown Begins. ]

[3…]

[2…]

[1…]

Begin.

Allen didn’t move.

Elio did.

He blinked forward with a speed boost from Lightning Dash, sword flicking out in a clean arc meant to tag Allen across the ribs. But Allen leaned—just a small motion—and the blade passed within inches.

No wind magic. No shield. Just timing.

“Seriously?” Elio growled.

Allen’s reply came from behind him. “Too slow.”

Elio spun just in time to see Allen reappear behind him, blade already recoiling from a clean slash to his back.

[Al dealt 1,436 damage ]

“Not bad,” Elio muttered, gritting his teeth.

But Allen wasn’t slowing down.

“Phantom Waltz.”

A blur—Allen flickered sideways, left, then diagonally forward. His movement was precise. Cruel. Each slash hit just barely past Elio’s block. Not enough to end the fight instantly, but enough to hurt.

[ Al dealt 1,127 damage ]

[ Al dealt 865 damage ]

[ Al dealt 1,052 damage (Backstab Critical) ]

Elio staggered.

His shield spell flickered to life, his eyes flaring with heat. “Alright. You want real? Let’s go real.”

He swung wide, casting Arc Sever—a blade of energy launched directly toward Allen’s center.

Allen didn’t even blink.

‘Displacement Veil.’

He vanished mid-trajectory.

Elio’s strike crashed into the dueling barrier and fizzled out in a shower of sparks.

A chill crawled up Elio’s spine.

Then— A whisper. Just behind his ear.

“Too focused on big swings.”

[ Al dealt 1,090 damage ]

[ Warning: HP Below 50% ]

[ Duel Result: Al Wins ]

Elio froze.

He didn’t fall. He didn’t collapse. But he stood there, blade shaking slightly in his grip.

Allen stepped back calmly, sheathing his sword with a flick. His posture was composed, like he’d just done something completely ordinary—like tying his shoes.

Elio slowly turned around to face him.

“…You weren’t kidding about being precise,” he muttered.

Allen exhaled through his nose, faint smile returning. “I told you I don’t cry. I retaliate.”

“You didn’t even give me a scratch.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“I’m trying not to.”

Allen finally relaxed a bit, walking over to Elio with a little more humanity in his step now that the fight was over. “You held up longer than most.”

“Gee,” Elio deadpanned. “Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

Allen smirked. “You wanted a real fight. I gave you one.”

Elio sheathed his weapon and sat back down on the grass, this time with a tired sigh. “Yeah… yeah, you did.”

Allen sat beside him, folding his arms over his knees.

The wind picked up slightly. The dueling field shimmered faintly around them as the cooldown timer reset, making the atmosphere feel less like a battlefield and more like a late-night rooftop after a rough night out.

“I guess that’s your version of therapy,” Elio said, looking up at the moon.

Allen glanced at him. “What is?”

“Fighting. Raiding. Dueling. You’re not good at sitting still, huh?”

Allen’s expression didn’t change. But his voice was quiet. “I don’t like the feeling of being useless.”

“Yeah,” Elio said. “Same.”

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