Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives Chapter 1710: Testing The Theory

Villain Ch 1710. Testing The Theory

Allen paused.

"Dark arena," he said, eyes flicking around them. "Not what I expected."

"It’s neutral," Azura replied, rolling her wrists as she summoned her daggers. The blades glead obsidian and silver, faintly humming with status effects. "No water. No shadows. No buffs. Just us."

"You think cursed terrain is neutral?"

"I think if you’re strong enough," she said without missing a beat, "it doesn’t matter."

Allen exhaled through his nose and let the sword materialize in his hand. Not the twin daggers that would’ve let him slip behind her guard with speed and shadow. No. He picked what she asked for.

A single sword. Slim. Elegant. One-handed.

The kind of weapon designed for precision. Control. Swordsmanship—not tricks.

It was devil-forged, sure—black tal kissed with crimson edge and a faint, infernal glow in its core—but it moved like an extension of his will. Azura chose it.

And right now, he kept his stance relaxed. Feet apart. Blade down. Body loose.

He wasn’t showing his real rhythm yet.

Azura’s eyes tracked the sword. And his grip.

"Good," she said quietly. Her stance didn’t mimic his—she fell into an assassin’s low crouch, blades reversed in her hands, weight evenly distributed, no wasted motion. "You’re not hiding behind brute force."

Allen tilted his head slightly. "Still not telling what you’re trying to confirm?"

Azura didn’t blink.

"I’ll know by how you move."

That again.

Allen narrowed his eyes. His mind raced through possibilities. She had fought him before—plenty of tis. In team events. PvP raids. Even side quests. She’d seen his timing. His reaction speeds. His decision patterns. She’d studied him when they were enemies.

And now, she was looking for the sa movents.

He flicked the blade once to the side and slipped into a low guard. Conservative. Traditional. But with tension in his core, ready to shift.

The tir appeared above them in blood-red nurals.

[10 seconds.]

Allen rolled his neck slowly, muscles cracking.

She was going to try to make him show his hand.

Azura—the real Azura—was precise, talented, and subtle. But VirtualValkyrie, her PvP persona, was brutal. Smart. And manipulative. She wouldn’t ask questions out loud. She’d force him to answer them through steel.

[5 seconds.]

Allen let his breathing settle.

[4...]

His thumb lightly tapped the hilt’s guard twice.

[3...]

Azura inhaled once. Shallow. Controlled.

[2...]

He saw the twitch in her knees. She was going to burst left.

"I’ll warn you now," Allen said, voice low and smooth, "If I take this seriously... You won’t like what I look like."

Azura’s lips curved—not a smile. A dare.

"I’m counting on it."

[1...]

The bell rang.

And Azura vanished.

She launched forward—not straight, but sideways in a jagged, looping arc. Her left foot barely touched a broken tile before she twisted, using a pillar’s edge to redirect her speed. A flicker of darkness cloaked her movent. Allen turned, pivoted with a single step, blade already rising.

-Clink!

The first strike was hers—a light tap on his guard, testing speed. Not ant to hit. Just to gauge. Allen didn’t even flinch.

"Still fast," he muttered.

Azura backflipped, rolled, then darted in low.

Allen t her.

His blade slashed across in a tight arc—not wide enough to overextend, but fast enough to control her spacing. She dipped under it with inhuman flexibility and answered with a feint toward his leg, switching direction mid-swing.

-Clang!

This ti, his sword caught her left dagger.

He pushed her back.

"Hmm," she murmured as she stepped out of range. "Your feints are cleaner than last ti."

Allen narrowed his eyes. "You’re logging my parry angles now?"

"Just comparing movent data," she said lightly, twirling one blade in her fingers. "It’s almost like you’ve trained muscle mory in... another account."

He exhaled through his nose.

So she was indeed testing that theory. That Allen and the Devil Emperor were the sa person.

Which... fair. Because they were.

She just didn’t have the proof.

Yet.

"You always talk this much in combat?" Allen asked, circling.

"Only when I’m winning," she shot back.

He darted forward this ti.

Three strikes. A diagonal cut. A reversal. A downward slash—

Azura weaved between them like smoke. Her daggers glinted in his peripheral vision. The third one nearly kissed his side, but he twisted, letting it scrape his coat sleeve.

Then she was behind him.

He turned just in ti to block both blades coming for his back.

"You’re not serious," she muttered.

"Neither are you," Allen replied.

Their blades locked for a second—his sword pressed against the X-shape of her reversed daggers, both of them breathing harder now.

"I want your real pattern," Azura said, close enough he could feel her breath on his cheek. "Not the polite version."

Allen smirked faintly. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

He kicked off her hip.

She stumbled back—just enough for him to shift his grip.

This ti, when Allen ca in, it was different.

Faster. Sharper. Colder.

He moved like soone who had commanded armies. Who had executed raid bosses solo. Who had been watched by thousands, feared by millions. There was no pause between his steps. No hesitation in his swings. His sword sliced the air like it owned it.

Azura’s eyes widened.

Because now it wasn’t Allen.

It was the Emperor.

And he wasn’t holding back.

She barely blocked the next strike.

His sword ca down in a blur, fast and precise, aid directly at her shoulder joint. The impact rang through her wrists, tal screeching against tal, her daggers locked into a desperate X-guard that almost cracked under the pressure. Her feet slid back—tiles cracked beneath her heels as she gritted her teeth, digging in just enough to hold her ground.

But he didn’t pause.

No witty remark. No smug taunt.

Just that cold, unreadable expression—and another slash coming low and sharp, aid for her ribs.

Azura twisted, narrowly avoiding it, one foot kicking off the fractured edge of a fallen pillar. Her body flipped mid-air, cloak snapping behind her like a dark fla. She landed hard, crouched, one dagger up, one reversed behind her. Her heart thudded in her ears, and she swore she felt it echo in the fake arena wind.