How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World - Chapter 5.2: Uneasy Start (3)

The arrival of origin ability era. Many berserk beasts spawned. Humans with superpowers blooming like mushrooms. Su Hao is just an ordinary 3rd year high school student who had mastered a lowly grade origin ability named
“Model analysis”.

However, when he was creating a character model in his mind by analyzing the opposing side’s ability, a crazy idea echoed in his mind. What would happen if he creates a model of the entire world? This would imply that he… would be like a God, controlling the world!

- Description from Novelupdates

Felix was reincarnated as Lindarion Sunblade, a prince of Eldorath, destined for greatness—or so they say. In a world where magic, swordsmanship, and archery reign supreme, power is everything, and the strong shape history. But strength isn’t given, it’s earned.With a System awakening within him, one that pushes his limits with deadly quests sometimes, helps him with skills, and helps with forging weapons into legendary artifacts, he refuses to be just another noble in a gilded cage.Trials await, enemies lurk in the shadows, and even among his own kind, power breeds conflict.But he will rise. Not just as a prince—but as a ruler, a warrior, and a legend over the entire world.

In this period where countless supporting lead actors always attempt to counterattack, turn over a new leaf or simply refuse to take up the role, his purpose of existing is to fill the role of a good supporting male lead and uphold his duty to the best of his ability. To add the needed lustre to storylines and this world. Only, it’s a pity that someone who is not afraid of god-like enemies will be afraid of pig-like teammates.

“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.