Global Evolution - Chapter 365

Schiller became Batman’s teacher, a professor of psychology at Gotham University.On the first day, Bruce Wayne entered the psychiatric clinic.Schiller had to open the Meiman chat system and posted the first post: Batman asked me the meaning of life, how should I answer? It’s a hurry to wait online.Thanos: It is recommended to kill directly.Professor X: Don’t listen to the upstairs, I’ll use your mind-reading skills…Schiller Andel Rodriguez, a world-class master of criminal psychology, the most famous psychology professor at Gotham University, his students are both superheroes and super criminals, but he does not belong to any of them, Batman likes to call him “Professor”, Joker calls him “the coolest lunatic”, Scarecrow calls him “Arkham slipper”, and Nick Fury thinks he’s a “getter.”Be Batman’s teacher, Spider’s godfather, Iron Man’s psychiatrist, Schiller’s journey to American comics, starting with Batman at the beginning.[Other than translator’s site, all other sites have google translated content, beware. Don’t comment bad translation after reading other site content.]

My old man pointed to the flower-like woman and said, "Call her mother from now on." He then pointed to a flower-bud-like girl and said, "This is your little sister."

One day, unfortunate news flew all the way to the Mage’s City. The mage, Solar Xing Ayra’s, entire family had been killed in an accident. Thus, he must now become the next Lord of the Solar family. The childhood home he returned to felt unfamiliar and strange. He barely managed to conduct a funeral with advisors that regarded him with suspicion. After fainting from various stressors, he woke up and… “Hello, Master. Nice to meet you!” ^o^ From now on, I’ll be the cute GM spirit fulfilling Master’s dreams: ‘Adventuring the world!’, ‘Fun estate management!’ I’m so happy to be with Master from now on, yay! “Enter a name ______” … What is this pebble-like spirit that calls me ‘Master’? No matter how you look at it–these level-up quests and these system windows…they were similar to a game’s user interface from his previous life. What is this… thing that seems more suited to modern civilization? Reminiscing on the games he had longed to play, Ayra worked hard on the quests. And, slowly, he also began exploring the territory. However, the territory… [D-234 days until the fall of the Solar estate.] “There are 234 days left till ruin…?” Alright, let’s start with the coronation ceremony. Things will work out somehow.

“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.