Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives Chapter 1499: You Really Think I Should Panic?

Chapter 1499: You Really Think I Should Panic?

Villain Ch 1499. You Really Think I Should Panic?

He zood in on the inner sanctum schematic. His throne room. His final stand zone. He paused.

“Hey, Emma.”

“Hm?”

“You really think I should panic?”

She tilted her head. “No. You never do. That’s the thing.”

There was sothing quiet in her voice now. Not mocking. Not teasing. Just real.

“You’re always the guy with a plan,” she said, stepping beside him. “And even when it’s a bad plan, you still go all in. That’s why people follow you.”

Allen looked at her.

Then at the map.

Then at the swirling, cursed skies of the domain he’d built from the ground up.

“I don’t plan on losing this one,” he said.

Kafra nodded. “Then you better start forging. Ti doesn’t wait.”

“I know,” he muttered.

Allen’s fingers hovered above his base editor again, refining the choke points on the eastern gate and marking turret placent. He could already picture it. Players charging in. Traps triggering. Screams echoing. Hell’s Gate had never had a defense event like this before. And he’d be damned if he let Arcana and the Ironclad Legion waltz into his domain without tasting his full wrath.

Emma, who had been unusually quiet for the past minute, didn’t answer.

That alone made Allen pause.

He turned toward her slowly, brow raised. Normally, by now she’d have dropped at least two sarcastic jabs and made fun of the way he said “schematic.” But instead, she just stood there… fidgeting. Like she was trying to say sothing but couldn’t.

That? That was weird.

Emma was many things—annoying, brilliant, unpredictable—but never hesitant.

Allen squinted. “Alright, what’s going on with you?”

She blinked up at him, startled. “Huh?”

“You’re doing that thing where your brain’s screaming and your mouth’s trying not to follow.”

Emma’s lips pursed. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her tabard, eyes darting sideways toward Kafra, then back to the floor. Finally, she exhaled and lifted her gaze.

“I was just thinking,” she said slowly, “I wonder… if I could participate in this event.”

Allen raised an eyebrow. “Participate? Like… with ?”

She nodded, then glanced at Kafra with hopeful eyes. “I know it’s not sothing Allen can just say yes to. So I figured I’d ask you directly.”

Kafra blinked, slightly caught off guard. “You an… Do you an you want to help Allen by becoming a tower?”

Allen made a choking noise.

Kafra didn’t miss a beat. “I can turn you into the Tower of the Spoiled Princess. It fires explosive pink roses that deal emotional damage and summon mini-dolls to taunt enemies with high-pitched laughter.”

Emma looked offended. “That sounds sad.”

“Also slightly horrifying,” Allen muttered.

Kafra shrugged. “It scales off Charisma and Passive-Aggressiveness.”

Emma crossed her arms. “I don’t want to be a tower. Co on. I an actually play. Like be a character. An event NPC. Maybe I could even control the Abyssal Dragon!”

There was that grin again—that innocent, scheming look she always used when asking for dangerous toys. The sa grin that once led her to glue six dungeon bosses into the sa room during a beta stress test just to see what would happen. The smile of a genius with poor impulse control.

Allen and Kafra exchanged glances.

They both cringed, visibly.

“Nope,” Kafra said imdiately. “Absolutely not. The Abyssal Dragon is controlled by a fixed AI system. It can’t be handed over to a player—especially not to create a sixth chanic called ‘chaos gremlin pilot mode.'”

Emma pressed her hands together. “Co onnn. I’m willing to be anything. You could make a random miniboss. Or one of those side characters with cool gear and no speaking lines. I’ll wear whatever ridiculous outfit you pick. I promise I won’t screw up!”

Allen raised a hand. “Sorry. That’s not on . All depends on the event team. I literally have zero say.”

Emma imdiately turned to Kafra. “Pwease…”

She deployed it. The full force of her ultimate weapon. The puppy-dog eyes. Wide. Shimring. Weaponized innocence.

Allen flinched. “Not fair.”

Even Kafra twitched. Her expression cracked slightly, lips pressing together.

“You know I can’t take this decision alone, right?” she said, voice much tighter than usual.

Emma pressed the attack. “You could just ask. I an, if I’m allowed in, it would help balance the event. Like… I could add unpredictability. Be a wild card.”

Allen leaned over to Kafra and whispered, “You do rember the last ti she hijacked my character’s past event, right? Turned herself into the late Devil Emperor just so she could kick and you around just for ‘revenge’?”

Emma coughed softly, then leaned in and whispered, “Oops…”

“Oops?” Kafra rubbed her temple. “That event was supposed to be a solemn lore morial.”

Emma shrugged with zero sha. “Well, I got my revenge. That’s what matters.”

Kafra exhaled slowly and turned to Emma. “You’re reckless.”

“But efficient,” Emma said sweetly.

“You break things.”

“But I fix them better.”

“You once caused a bug so catastrophic we had to reboot the dungeon twice,” Kafra reminded her. Which made Allen wince. He guessed that must’ve been before Hell’s Gate officially launched.

“Which you couldn’t replicate, might I add.”

Kafra closed her eyes for a long mont, then opened them again, resigned.

“I’ll ask,” she said at last. “No promises. I’ll speak with the event team and see if they’re willing to create a special override slot.”

Emma gasped. “Really!?”

“But,” Kafra added sharply, “I can’t guarantee your role or character. You might end up as an event courier. Or worse—a puzzle hint ghost.”

“I’ll take it!” Emma grinned.

Allen smirked. “You’re really desperate to be in this ss, huh?”

Emma shrugged, still glowing. “It’s history, bro. First world raid event. I don’t want to miss this.”

Kafra shook her head slowly. “I’ll let you know in 24 hours. And for the love of the devs, don’t break anything while you wait.”

Emma saluted. “No promises.”

Allen looked at the two of them—Kafra, always composed, now looking mildly regretful… and Emma, vibrating like she’d just downed a whole energy drink.

He sighed.

“God help the players if they do put you in,” he muttered.

Emma just winked.