Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Chapter 1680: TOUCH HERE TO ESCAPE

Villain Ch 1680. TOUCH HERE TO ESCAPE

The sanctified glow that once emanated from its armor had shifted. Now it pulsed with corrupted mana, muted gold infused with black threads. The three halos didn’t re-form—instead, a single cracked ring of tarnished light spun behind its helm like a loyal but broken crown.

The construct’s torso lifted slightly, gears stalling before clunking into motion. It knelt.

Larissa raised an eyebrow. “Did you just… adopt the church toaster?”

“Yup.”

“Do I get one?”

“No.”

“Hmph.”

He walked back toward the center of the room, glancing again at the now-dead statue. Still no change. No dramatic cue. No magical ding. Just eerie quiet.

“So…” he exhaled. “How long are we going to be here?”

Larissa sat on the edge of the altar like she owned the place now. “I mean, we could just… talk. While we wait.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“That tone,” he said.

“What?”

“That tone. You’re either going to flirt or ask me about my feelings.”

“Both,” she admitted cheerfully.

Allen rolled his eyes and muttered, “Of course.”

They sat in relative silence after that.

One minute.

Three minutes.

Larissa shifted slightly on the altar, stretching her legs with the kind of grace that made even bloodstained stone look like a chaise lounge. She leaned back on her hands, claw-tips tapping faintly against the marble, letting her gaze drift over the dark cathedral-turned-prison.

Allen was beside her, crouched near the broken floor, eyes flicking from his HUD timer to the seal still humming faintly around the chamber.

Still locked in.

They weren’t missing anything. No puzzles. No glowing glyphs. No divine side quest markers screaming “TOUCH HERE TO ESCAPE.”

The dungeon was just… making them wait.

“Maybe the statue’s emotion ghost is on a smoke break,” she said after a beat, voice casual.

Allen grunted. “Maybe the dungeon’s just trolling us.”

She tilted her head, lips curling. “Or maybe it’s romantic.”

That got a reaction.

He turned slowly and gave her that classic sideways look—equal parts dry and suspicious. The one that said, ’I know you’re about to say something stupid, but I’m giving you the floor anyway because I’m tired.’

She grinned wider. “Come on. Gothic cathedral. Magic binding runes. Dramatic boss fight. Heartfelt voice lines from statues. It’s practically a date.”

“…Please stop.”

“You saved me,” she said lightly.

“I always do.”

She blinked, pretending to pout. “Oh?”

Allen didn’t meet her gaze. Just muttered, “That wasn’t flirting. That was just a fact.”

“Mmm. Still felt flirty.”

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose like that would somehow shield him from her. “Are you always like this after fighting off cursed marriage proposals?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “And before. And during.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re still trapped with me.”

“…”

She laughed. Quiet but real. It echoed in the hollow cathedral space like a dare.

Allen leaned back against one of the pews. Arms crossed. Legs outstretched. Classic ’I’m pretending to be relaxed’ posture. And he didn’t notice—because he never did—that it only made him look hotter. That dark coat half-torn from battle, dust on his collarbone, that stupid, stupid jawline that somehow got sharper the more he fought.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

They were alone.

Truly alone.

No party. No system notices. No Kafra popping up in a duck costume.

Just the two of them. Trapped in cursed church limbo. And Larissa was bored. And still just a little bit high on the blood she drained from the Warden’s holy core.

Her eyes slid sideways to him again.

Then she moved.

Smooth. Slow. Predator-casual.

She shifted her legs and slid across the cracked marble, closing the distance between them without a sound. Allen didn’t react until her boots came to a stop right in front of his.

He looked up—right as she lowered herself into his lap.

“…Larissa.”

“I’m bored.”

“You’re dangerous.”

“That’s your problem.”

She straddled him fully now, knees braced against either side of his hips, her hands resting lazily on his shoulders. He didn’t push her off. Which was interesting. His hands stayed planted against the pew beneath him. Tense. Still.

She leaned in until her face was just above his.

Allen narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t helping the timer go faster.”

“You don’t know that,” she whispered. “Maybe dungeon seals weaken under heavy flirting.”

He opened his mouth to argue. Too slow.

She kissed him.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was molten.

Her lips crashed into his like she’d been waiting for this moment for three hundred years. There was a surge of heat that had nothing to do with demonic aura and everything to do with how alive she felt in that second. The taste of blood was still faint on her tongue—hers and someone else’s—and she poured all of it into him.

His breath caught.

She didn’t stop.

She deepened the kiss—fingers threading into the dark strands of his hair. Pulling slightly. Just enough to remind him she didn’t do things halfway.

Allen didn’t respond at first, but he didn’t stop her either.

Then—

He growled.

And kissed her back.

Hard.

His hand came up to her waist, gripping it with that unfair strength of his. Not brutal. Just firm. Like he wanted to remind her he was still the Devil Emperor, even if she was currently the one in control.

Their mouths moved like a war disguised as a dare. Every clash of teeth and tongue said I dare you. Every breath they stole from each other was a countdown.

The seconds blurred.

She pulled away slowly, eyes glowing faint red. Her lips curled in a smug line as she watched his chest rise and fall—faster now.

“Well,” she purred. “That felt productive.”

Allen didn’t respond right away.

Then—

“…I’m going to pretend I didn’t like that.”

Larissa smirked and ran a claw lightly along the side of his jaw. “I’m going to pretend I believe you.”

She slid off him just as slow as she’d approached, letting her hips brush just slightly as she stood.

Allen exhaled through his nose. He adjusted his coat. Probably to hide how ruffled he actually looked.

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