Novel Full Chapter 1831: Emperor Hunt Slaughter
Chapter 1831: Emperor Hunt Slaughter
Villain Ch 1831. Emperor Hunt Slaughter
Searing, screaming, thick as napalm.
The air boiled.
Shields shattered.
Low-levels screamed before they even registered what spell hit them.
Players burned in place—melting inside their armor.
Only Vash and five others survived the first volley, diving behind a reinforced ward field.
“THE FCK?!”
“No lock-on warning! No circle!”
Vash’s heart thundered. Not in panic—but calculation.
That voice.
That speed.
That presence.
He wasn’t watching from the sky.
He wasn’t throwing taunts.
He wasn’t showing off.
He was hunting.
And he was close.
“STAY TOGETHER,” Vash barked. “HOLD FORMATION! TANK LINE—ROTATE RIGHT!”
Shields shifted with a thunderous clatter. Five players remained. Just five. Out of thirty. Out of an entire goddamn battalion. Their armor was scorched. And their voices? Frayed with that kind of edge that only came from watching friends die screaming.
The air still stank of burnt metal and cooked flesh. Smoke curled off the broken perimeter wards. Ash drifted like gray snow.
And silence.
Too much silence.
Vash’s heart was pounding like a war drum in his ears. His HUD blinked with low-health warnings. Buff timers were burning out. Cooldowns barely coming back. His left arm trembled beneath his gold-forged shield, dented and cracked down the center.
This wasn’t a raid anymore.
This was survival horror.
“He’s still here,” whispered one of the mages—Serayne, Level 189. Her staff glowed faintly, trembling in her grip. “I can feel it. His presence. Like—like it’s in my spine.”
No one answered.
They all felt it.
That crawling, suffocating dread in the base of your skull. The kind of pressure that made your fingers go numb. That made the light feel dimmer even when the sun was out.
Then it happened.
Flick.
The sound was so soft, it almost didn’t register. Just a shift in the wind. A small hum in the background.
But they knew.
“BACK—!” Vash started, but—
Too late.
SKRAKK.
The sword pierced through their healer’s chest from behind. One second she was there—chanting, hands glowing white. The next, the Emperor’s blade was through her, tip bursting out her sternum like a grotesque steel flower.
She gasped. Tried to scream. Blood filled her mouth instead.
Allen stood behind her—no flashy entrance. No particle effects. No teleportation.
Just there.
Like a nightmare made real.
He pulled the sword sideways, tearing her open from gut to spine. Her body collapsed into a twitching, wet pile.
[Player Sunblessed_Hymn has been slain.]
Screams broke the air.
“FCK!!” the rogue shouted, blinking into stealth—only for Allen’s sword to lash sideways before the animation could even finish.
The rogue blinked right into it.
CRUNCH.
His head separated from his shoulders mid-step.
[Player KriegerKnife has been slain.]
Blood sprayed across Vash’s cheek. Hot. Metallic. He didn’t even flinch.
“DEFENSIVE BUBBLE, NOW!” he screamed.
The mage obeyed, slamming her staff into the earth. A shimmering hexagonal dome flickered to life around them.
Allen didn’t charge.
Didn’t even blink.
He just walked.
Calm. Eerie. A slow, predatory stroll.
Like he had all the time in the world.
Like this was a fucking stroll through the park.
His armor shimmered in corrupted obsidian, trimmed in crimson, scorched from spells that should’ve killed him five times over. His gauntlets flexed. His sword dragged across the stone with a screech like a dying animal.
He reached the edge of the barrier.
Stopped.
Smiled.
And then tilted his head—slowly, unnaturally—as if he were studying insects behind glass.
“You survived more than five seconds,” Allen said, voice low, guttural, with a twisted sort of admiration. “That’s rare.”
The mage whimpered.
Vash stood tall.
The berserker behind him was hyperventilating.
Allen raised his sword.
“Let’s see if you survive ten.”
Allen rammed the hilt of his sword into the mage’s face, cracking bone. Teeth flew. Blood sprayed across the inside of the dome. She stumbled back, eyes wide, jaw hanging at a crooked angle.
He didn’t give her time to cast.
He grabbed her throat with one hand and slammed her into the barrier wall. Once. Twice. Three times.
The fourth strike caved in her skull like a dropped melon.
[Player Serayne has been slain.]
Her body slid down the inside of the dome, leaving a greasy trail of blood and brain matter.
Vash exhaled. “We have to go. We fall back. Tactical retreat.”
The berserker was shaking. “We’re going to die.”
“NOT IF WE FIGHT,” Vash snapped.
But his voice cracked.
Allen turned.
Vash activated his ultimate—Aegis Lockdown—a radiant golden explosion of shield magic that pulsed out from him, freezing enemy movement for 4 seconds.
Allen stopped.
And smiled wider.
“Cute.”
He dropped low—like a dancer—and rolled through the field before it pulsed.
Before the trigger.
Vash blinked. “What—?!”
The berserker screamed and charged. “RAAAGHHH!!”
Allen let him come.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t raise his sword.
Just waited.
At the last second, he sidestepped—and with a casual backhand, sliced the berserker’s arms off at the biceps.
Two clean chops.
Like he was dicing vegetables.
The berserker’s momentum carried him past—blood spraying in twin arcs, weapons still flying through the air.
He collapsed, howling.
Allen stepped over him.
Lifted his boot.
And stomped.
The sound was sickening.
Skull against stone.
Bone against sole.
[Player MightySlugger has been slain.]
Only Vash remained.
He stood tall.
Bloodied.
Alone.
And doomed.
Allen turned, his expression utterly blank now.
Then vanished.
Gone.
No blink.
No teleport.
Just gone.
Vash pivoted—too late.
SLAK!
The Emperor’s blade came from above—Vash caught it with his shield, but the sheer impact blasted him backward, slamming him into the wall hard enough to dent the stone.
He rolled. Came up bleeding.
Allen was on him again.
Another slash—Vash blocked. Another—he dodged. A third—he countered with a golden burst of holy light.
The Emperor flinched.
But only flinched.
Vash roared, swinging his sword in an overhead arc, radiant energy surging with the last of his buffs.
The air screamed with holy light.
He aimed straight for the Emperor’s chest—final blow, final hope, final stand.
But Allen—
He didn’t block.
He didn’t dodge in panic.
He stepped sideways.
Effortless.
Casual.
Like he was swatting away a fly that hadn’t even landed yet.
The radiant blade cut through nothing but air.