History's Strongest Senior Brother - Chapter 1741: Origin Of Heretics

A young man dies and is transported all the way back into Ancient Sparta. Underneath all the bravado is a now failing nation after over extension from the Peloponnesian war against Athens. Will the man save Sparta and forge it in his desired image? Or will Persia, Athens, and other city-states or empires crush them!Contains portrayals of real life leading figures and gets to the nitty gritty of the often disgusting and disturbing life's people suffered through in Ancient Greece.Expect a new chapter a few times a week. Total world count 30,000

Zixu woke up to find himself in the world of *Naruto*.Too weak to survive? No problem—he has the Kaido template.Unfamiliar with the *Naruto* world and clueless about ninjutsu? No worries—devouring Sarutobi Hiruzen's soul will take care of that.Caught in the constant battles between ninja villages and struggling to protect himself? Simple—just start his own teaching faction.Lacking manpower? Short on talent? Easy—swing the hoe well, and no corner is too deep to dig.

Every hero starts with power. He started with dust.One moment, the classroom buzzed with teenage chatter. The next, silence fell. Students blinked—and opened their eyes in an ancient hall carved from gold and marble. The air shimmered with divine magic. And at its center stood a goddess—flawless, proud, unbelievably beautiful and wrapped in flowing white.It was a divine summoning performed by a divine goddess.Among them was Vritra… and his stunningly beautiful mother.While others received blessings, powerful physiques and grand titles, Vritra was given a skill so pathetic it made even the goddess wrinkle her nose. An ability—so pitifully weak that it drew laughter, scorn, and even disgust. But that wasn't the worst part.Betrayed and cornered inside the labyrinth, Vritra had two choices: die… or fall into the death trap.A death canopy with no exit and no chance of survival, the only option was to slaughter the demons endlessly for months.Finally!! He forced his dormant skill to awaken, after killing thousands and hundreds of thousands demons and devouring them, becoming a broken ability.******White robes. Cold arroganceA sinful revenge.White robes can stain. And in the dark, even divinity can moan.And then there was his mo— guilt in her breath, shame in her eyes, whispering apologies between gasps in her son's ear, doing what had to be done… for both their sakes.

“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.