Global Lord: 100% Drop Rate - Chapter 434 - The Big Battle Begins!

Raziel died a saint, slaughtered in his own cathedral the moment a Player fell from the sky, labeled his world a “Server,” and reduced him to nothing more than a prologue NPC.His final act of faith didn’t stop the massacre... but it did shatter the rules of the Game.[ITEM USED: RESURRECTION TOKEN][INITIATING REGRESSION PROTOCOL…][SAVE POINT FOUND: 4 YEARS BEFORE THE PLAYER ARRIVAL]Raziel wakes up in his fifteen-year-old body, memories fragmented, but with one absolute certainty: the Game Over is inevitable.To the Church, he remains the perfect novice; to the Player, he is just another NPC.But this time, he will wield his faith like a heretical System: recruiting the future sacrificial lambs, twisting miracles into weapons, and becoming the Hidden Boss of the very world that once discarded him.If this world sees him as mere filler... Raziel will turn his faith into the heresy that crashes the Server.

Back in 1991, in the face of this golden age, Chen Jianghai swears that he will only live in three words in this life: Lin Wanqiu! The story of a reborn person who built an electrical empire and reached the pinnacle of his life!

- Description from novelbuddy

“Meet. Befriend. Seduce.”

Those were the words promised which made him excited.

“Play Nightlife and date your favorite Vampire Girlfriend!”

—-—-

When Lukas purchases Nightlife, all he expected was dating all the girls and getting the sweet sweet “plot”. He didn't expect to be thrown into the world entirely!

What's a Vampire got to do to survive?

“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.