Villain Ch 1933. Peak Hours
He cleared ten players in two minutes flat. Some were barely level 90. He didn't care. They came for loot. He came for blood.
When the notifications were done, he opened the teleport list again.
"Now for the second part…" he murmured. "Find a quiet place to grind. Secluded. Safe."
But then he paused.
It was Sunday.
Peak hours.
The server's population was nearly maxed. Events, world bosses, PvP arenas—every corner of Hell's Gate would be crawling.
Which meant even the highest-tier dungeons had campers. Farmers. Gankers.
He didn't want to risk running into someone stupid enough to challenge him. Because even if he could win, any lag could cost him.
Allen teleported back to the crypts.
Stood still at the base of the steps.
Arms crossed.
"…I don't think I can hunt as Devil Emperor today," he muttered.
Not worth the risk.
He needed a quieter identity. A second skin.
A softer mask.
He smirked slightly.
"Then… should I hunt as Al?"
