Novel Full Chapter 1838 - Capítulo 1838: One Person Who Had Beaten Them All
Capítulo 1838: One Person Who Had Beaten Them All
Villain Ch 1838. One Person Who Had Beaten Them All
Arcana shouted, trying to cover him. Alex was still pinned against the wall, coughing blood, desperately healing himself through cracked ribs. Elio pressed the assault, blades flashing in fury.
And Azura—Azura stood frozen, blades trembling. Watching Allen laugh, watching him carve through her allies like they were training dummies.
Her chest burned. Her heart screamed.
Because even now—every time his gaze flicked toward her, every time he smirked mid-swing—
She knew he wasn’t just playing with them.
He was still dancing with her.
And the torture wasn’t that he spared her.
The torture was that she didn’t want him to stop.
Elio saw it. Not all of it—Azura’s blush, the faint quiver of her lips, the way her blades hesitated mid-swing—but enough. Enough to make his stomach twist with something he couldn’t afford to name. There was no time for suspicion, no space for emotions in this bloodbath. The Emperor was carving through their forces like a farmer hacking weeds,
But still, the thought sank its teeth in and refused to let go.
The way he fought.
The rhythm of his movements.
The ease with which he parried Arcana’s shield, Red_King’s furious sword, even Elio’s own precise strikes. That manic laugh cutting through the screams—so like the one he remembered from those old streams, those terrifying nights when the Emperor had first emerged.
It was the same. Exactly the same.
And yet… no proof.
The Emperor wasn’t supposed to be Allen.
They’d spoken—Elio remembered confronting him before. Allen had denied it with that infuriating half-smile, as if the question itself amused him.
So how could he prove it?
The weight of his suspicion pressed down on him harder than Arcana’s shield against Elio’s back.
But he couldn’t falter.
His fingers tightened around his hilt until the leather dug into his palms. His arms trembled—not from weakness, but from the pressure of clashing against something inhuman. He forced his legs steady, lungs burning, heart hammering.
He pushed forward.
Steel screamed as his blade locked with the Emperor’s. Sparks spat into his face, hot enough to sting. He ignored it.
“Fall back, Elio!” Arcana barked, shield slamming against Allen’s flank.
“No!” Elio roared, eyes blazing. “If we give him ground, we’re already dead!”
Allen tilted his head, smirk widening. His crimson eyes glowed brighter, like embers stirred in ash. “Oh, listen to him. The strategist finally learning how to scream.”
Elio shoved harder, teeth grit. “Shut your mouth.”
Allen laughed. Low. Hungry. He twisted, parried Arcana’s follow-up, and with a casual flick of his wrist, disarmed a nearby lancer. The man’s spear spun into the air, and before it even hit the ground, Allen slit the lancer’s throat with his free hand.
Blood sprayed across Elio’s cheek. Hot. Sticky. He blinked through it, refusing to back down.
‘This is exactly how he fought,’ Elio thought, chest tight. ‘Every move. Every strike. Every—’
The thought cut off as Allen lunged.
It was like being hit by a storm. His blade came down with such force that Elio’s knees nearly buckled trying to block. The clang rattled his bones, his arms screaming with the impact.
“Hold!” Arcana shouted, bracing beside him, shield glowing.
Elio forced himself upright, sweat slick on his brow. His muscles burned. His breath came in ragged pulls. But he held.
Red_King barreled in from the flank, sword cleaving down in a vicious arc.
Allen pivoted, eyes still on Elio, and let the blade graze his shoulder armor. Sparks erupted, but no blood. Instead, Allen laughed, his smirk turning sharp.
“Not bad. But too slow.”
His sword snapped out sideways, catching Red_King’s thigh again. The berserker roared in agony as blood gushed, spraying the cobblestones.
“Fck!” Red_King spat, nearly collapsing.
“Stay up!” Arcana bellowed, interposing himself between Allen and the wounded berserker.
Father^Alex’s voice cracked through the chaos. “I’m here!” Light flared, knitting Red_King’s wound enough to keep him standing, though blood still leaked through his armor.
Allen’s eyes flicked toward Alex, that eerie calm settling over his features. “You keep healing them,” he said softly, almost kindly. “But you’re just prolonging their pain.”
He stepped forward, blade dripping.
Elio lunged to intercept, fury boiling in his veins. His sword cut a sharp arc, sparks flying as it clashed against Allen’s.
Up close, Elio could feel it—the raw wrongness of him. The heat of his aura pressing down like a furnace, the iron stench of blood clinging to his coat, the manic joy radiating off him with every clash.
And still, that nagging thought screamed in his mind.
‘This is Allen. It has to be. But how? Why? He denied it. He can’t—’
Allen leaned in, pressing their blades together, his grin sharp enough to cut.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered.
Elio’s teeth ground together. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Oh, I know.” Allen’s voice was smooth, mocking.
Elio’s chest seized. For a heartbeat, the battlefield blurred.
But he pushed it down. Forced his blade forward. Forced his body to keep moving.
“Arcana! Press left!” he barked, voice raw.
The paladin obeyed, shield slamming into Allen’s side again. Elio swung high, Red_King swung low, Alex flared healing light to blind.
For a moment, they fought as one. The pro guild core. Swords and shields, light and fury. Their timing was perfect, honed by endless hours, endless raids.
And still—
Allen danced through them.
Not stumbling. Not straining.
Dancing.
His blade wove between theirs, parrying, twisting, slicing. His boots slid across blood-slick stone with effortless grace. His laugh rang loud, cruel and manic.
“Yes! That’s it!” he roared, eyes blazing. “Show me your desperation! Show me why you think you deserve to stand in front of me!”
Elio’s breath hitched as Allen’s blade carved through another ally behind him. The scream echoed in his ears. The spray of blood misted across his face again.
‘This is exactly how he fought,’ Elio thought, chest trembling, rage clawing at his throat. ‘It’s him. I need proof…’
But then what?
If the Devil Emperor really was Allen… didn’t that make it worse? Didn’t that mean they hadn’t been outplayed by some faceless raid boss—
But by one man.
One person who had beaten them all.
One person who had made the entire server bleed.
One person who might never be stopped.
He shoved forward again, heart hammering, sweat and blood mixing on his skin.
Even if his body broke, even if Allen’s smirk haunted him forever—
He wasn’t going to stop.
Not until he had the truth.
Not until the Emperor bled.
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