Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Chapter 1679: Mech Priest

Villain Ch 1679. Mech Priest

[System Update: Enemy Neutralized – Gilded Warden Core Destroyed]

[Demonic Aura Receding… Buff Expired]

[New Quest Flag: “The Bride and the Bound Saint” Unlocked]

[System Alert: Residual Energy Detected – Dungeon Phase Shift Incoming]

Allen stood breathing, his blade dimming in his hand, shrinking into fading black dust. He looked over at Larissa.

She was brushing blood off her cheek with one clawed finger, her expression unreadable.

He stepped closer. “You alright?”

She looked up at him. A pause. Then—

“Define ’alright.’”

He stared at her.

Then slowly said, “Did anything in that fight feel related to the quest? Maybe you? It kept calling you bride.”

Her brow furrowed slightly.

“…Maybe,” she said, after a beat. “I don’t know. Something about the way it said Bride didn’t feel… like just code.”

Allen folded his arms, gaze distant now.

“That wasn’t just a miniboss,” he said. “It was acting like a priest. Or worse. A priest’s pet.”

Larissa’s voice dropped. “You think someone built this thing to find me?”

“Or bind you,” Allen muttered.

She blinked, then tried to joke, “Well, too late. You already got dibs.”

Allen met her eyes. “I’m serious.”

She held his gaze. For once, no teasing. No snark.

“…Me too.”

Allen was about to bind the Mini Boss, but then the cathedral shook. He turned. The murals on the wall flickered, shifting again—this time showing the Bound Saint rising from the altar.

A deep voice echoed from the ceiling.

“Trial one complete.”

Allen’s jaw locked.

“…Oh, come on.”

Larissa groaned. “I just wiped blood out of my eye.”

Allen lifted his hand, black sparks returning to his palm. He cracked his neck, then looked at her sideways.

“You still good?”

Larissa smirked. Her claws reformed, dripping crimson again from the pool at her feet like they’d never stopped moving.

“Let’s ruin their religion.”

Allen gave her a flat look, but his mouth twitched. “I think we just did.”

The battlefield had gone quiet. Dust still hung in the air like the place was holding its breath. The broken fragments of the Warden’s armor shimmered faintly on the ground—its twisted hammers now split in half, tentacles withered into metallic husks. Black blood mixed with sanctified oil still steamed along the broken tiles, and the altar crackled with residual mana. But nothing else moved.

No second phase. No post-battle rage resurrection. No dramatic angelic scream from above.

Just… silence.

And yet—

A strange hum lingered in the back of Allen’s skull. Not magic. Not System.

Emotion.

Old. Stained. Pressed into the bones of this place.

He glanced at the altar again, then to the far side of the room.

The statue.

It hadn’t moved during the fight. It hadn’t even been marked in the combat log. Just a dull white shape in the center of a ruined sanctuary, arms bound in sculpted chains, head tilted downward, face forever etched in half-prayer, half-resignation. The Bound Saint.

But now… something was different.

Its eyes shimmered. Just faintly. Like dew had gathered along the stone lashes.

Allen blinked and took a step forward, sword dissolving into mana behind him.

“Wait,” Larissa muttered beside him, blood weapons fading like mist.

They stood shoulder to shoulder again, both staring at the thing.

“Is it gonna… I don’t know, jump at us?” she asked.

“I mean, we just fought a mech priest who called you his Bride. Statues coming alive doesn’t even break top five weird today.”

“I’m honored,” she deadpanned.

They waited.

Nothing moved.

Still, the statue kept glowing. Just barely. Subtle enough to make Allen lean forward instinctively, eyes narrowing.

Then—

The cathedral shook again. A low tremble, like tectonic breath.

Allen raised his hand. Defensive reflex.

But nothing attacked.

Instead, a faint pulse radiated from the statue. Like a heartbeat trying to remember itself.

And then—

A sob.

Not from Larissa. Not from Allen.

But from the statue.

It was soft. Cracked. Feminine. Not a sound designed to scare.

A sob that didn’t want to be heard—but couldn’t stay silent anymore.

Then the voice followed.

Faint. Like it came from behind glass.

“If marriage was the only way for this… then why can’t I choose?”

Allen stilled.

Larissa’s brows pulled tight.

The voice trembled. “No… I’m supposed to be happy. They chose me. The Blessed. The Saint. That’s what they said.”

A longer silence.

“But why am I not happy?” The voice broke. “Why does it feel so wrong?”

The hum in the room faded with the last word. The soft light in the statue’s eyes dulled.

Then died.

It became cold stone again.

Just like that.

As if it had never spoken at all.

The stillness that followed was heavier than any monster’s scream.

Allen let out a slow breath.

“…So. Forced marriage?” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Larissa crossed her arms, claws sheathed again. “I guess.”

“Cult energy checks out.”

“Emo bride statue. Hot, but tragic.”

Allen glanced at her.

Larissa gave him a lazy shrug. “I have a type.”

He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he looked around. The seal that had originally separated them from the rest of the party still shimmered faintly across the cathedral’s archway like a veil of frozen light. It hadn’t flickered once since the Gilded Warden died.

They were still trapped.

He walked over and knelt beside the shattered mechanical heart, reaching out slowly. The faint metallic hum still echoed from the twisted remains—half of the core exposed, flickering weakly, twitching like a dying lightbulb clinging to its last filament of purpose.

Allen narrowed his eyes. The remnants of the Gilded Warden’s sanctified energy still pulsed within the fractured core like holy static.

“Pact.”

The word came out low. Commanding. A decree, not a request.

The air responded instantly.

Allen’s demonic aura surged outward in a wave—thick, heavy, and oppressive. The black flames wrapped around the remains of the Warden’s core, swallowing it in a cocoon of smoke and ember-threaded shadow. The sound was horrible. A screech. Not from the metal—but the soul inside it, protesting as it was pulled from the edge of nothingness.

But Allen didn’t flinch.

The pact sigils twisted violently, encasing the core like chains snapping into place. Red eyes flickered to life within the shattered helmet near the remains—one dull, cracked lens lighting up like a cursed confession booth flickering back online.

“You serve me now,” Allen muttered, voice colder than the marble floor.

The Warden’s broken parts twitched. Not whole, not hostile—but bound.

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