First Immortal of the Sword - Chapter 1953: A Senior’s Care

This is a rebirth story of a normal girl, Kylie. She was a normal girl, living a normal life. Married and had kids. Nothing outstanding about her, but nothing terrible either. Then she was attacked and left to die.

Her soul screamed in pain at having to leave behind two small children that needed her, yet she couldn't do anything. As she entered eternal darkness ... it took her some time to realise that she was not dead. She was alive, only yet to be born.

And she was a boy.

After her rebirth, Rita vows not to repeat her past mistakes. This time, her first priority is to stop her brother, who is about to marry into the Lopez family, from participating in the initial game beta test. In her previous life, she was deceived by this scheming brother until her dying breath. It was only at the end that she realized she was merely a villain in a male-oriented novel about a live-in son-in-law, with all the malice and manipulation orchestrated by him behind the scenes. In this life, Rita decides to change the rules of the game. She will stay in the shadows and seize all the opportunities meant for the male and female leads. By participating in the beta test and re-selecting her abilities, she systematically dismantles the protagonists’ advantages, all while making them believe she’s on their side. Rita has no intention of harming innocent people, nor is she a selfless saint. In this game, she works with the authorities for mutual benefit, all to achieve her ultimate goal—becoming the true master of her fate.

The world experienced a cataclysmic change, and countless spatial gateways appeared out of thin air.

Exotic beasts of all shapes and sizes swarmed out of those aforementioned spatial gateways, forcing the humans to face the crucial moment for their survival.

In order to search for a chance at survival, brave warriors from the army and scientific researchers risked their lives and entered the world beyond the spatial gateways. To their surprise, they discovered that there was a chance of obtaining beast cards by killing these exotic beasts in their world.

Those with extraordinary spiritual strength are able to utilize the beast cards, perhaps transforming the cards into the beasts’ combat bodies while they were still alive, or transforming them into weapons or defensive gears, or…

A new occupation came into existence following the changes, known as beastmasters.

A transcender with two souls fused into one found himself in this magnificent new world full of waves, rising step by step as he ascends into the seat of a godly beastmaster.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.