Mechanical God Emperor - Chapter 1266: Swallowing Heaven’s Devourer Tyrant Dragon

The protagonist is a guy who is among the stupidest of the stupidest in the school. In this school, your grades can, under the supervision of teachers, take a virtual form to do combat! However, if you leave an examination half way, you get zero marks. A bright and cute girl, Mizuki Himeji, was having a high fever during the examination. Despite her potential to be the second highest scorer in the level, she obtained zero marks for having left due to her illness and is thus allocated to the worst class, class F.

Grades mean almost everything. For Class A, they have a smart-looking teacher, a plasma TV as big as the entire wall as their blackboard, personal laptops, personal air-cons, refrigerators, adjustable seats and all kinds of different appliances. Within the refrigerator, there are all kinds of drinks and snacks. Their ceiling is made of glass, the wall lets them put up high-class drawings and plants.

As for Class F, the worst class… They have Japanese desks and seat paddings. Their blackboard is dirty and there is no chalk even! Someone complains that the legs of his desk are broken, so the teacher asks, “Didn’t we distribute some glue to stick wood together? Glue it back yourself later.” Another one complains that wind is blowing in from the broken window. The teacher says, “I got it. I will apply for plastic bags and invisible glue to fix it later.” There are spider webs everywhere, not a patch of the wall is clean. A unique moldy smell spreads across the entire room; it must be from the old tatamis used to tile the floor. This is the status of class F.

The protagonist feels displeased at such an arrangement, and seeks help from his friends to try to make a change through summoning war!! And they devise all kinds of plans to try to beat the famous class A, intending to get class A’s classroom and equipment if they win!!

“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.

5 years ago, Earth was subject to an event now known as the “World Awakening”.

At that time, the world completely changed. Mana awakened in the world, gates began opening, and a holographic screen showed up in front of the eyes of every human that outlined their “status”.

Each individual was given a talent to start with, ranging from simple abilities like enhanced eyesight to insane fantasy stuff like pyrokinesis.

And within this myriad of abilities, Damien awakened a spatial affinity with the skill “short-distance teleportation”.

At first, he was excited, thinking about intense battles and gaining great power, but the reality was quick to shoot him down.

His ability only worked in the area 10 meters around himself, and his physical stats were insanely weak, leaving him tired after using his ability a couple of times.

Disillusioned by his weakness, Damien lived a quiet life doing anything he could to meet ends meet, until one day, everything changed.

Damien was betrayed and thrown into a gate, left to fend for himself in a labyrinth of beasts.

Something snapped in him that day. He refused to stay weak and keep his head down any longer.

When he emerged from the darkness, he found himself in a new world with no idea how to return to earth.

However, he wasn’t the same kid he was when he first fell.


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Oliver Patrick, the Greatest General in Stormfront's history has a secret - a secret not many know. They think that his Iron WIll was built overnight. They know not the path of suffering he walked, as the slave Beam, to reach his destiny as King, and then Emperor.This is that story. A true story, of progress, struggle, hardship and strength. A story of greatness achieved without a system. A story of how one unknown boy's struggle transformed a continent forever.//ExtractThe arm dropped to the floor, as did the head. Spear points raced past the falling corpse as the goblins sought to take advantage of his momentary lapse in attention. But the tide had already shifted. The equilibrium that had kept the battle going for so long was shattered. With no bruiser to take care of their front lines and distract his attention, the goblins in front of him were no match for his speed.He employed his misdirection as he normally might, feigning the same backwards step that he had practised over and over, before leaping forward, catching the goblin off guard, twisting his body to avoid its spear and forcing his blade into its throat.It let out a high-pitched squeal as it dropped its spear and attempted to stem the tide of blood that was spurting from the wound. The goblin next to it squealed too, in fear this time, as its eyes widened, seeing two of its comrades dealt with so easily in quick succession. Beam saw it take a backwards step, as it attempted to turn and run away. But he was on it before it had a chance. He wrapped his arm around its neck and drove a sword through its back.Rather than let the corpse fall to the floor as he normally might, he held onto this one, enduring its death throes. Once life had finally left its body, he shifted it into place as a meat shield. Two arrows thudded against it, almost piercing it straight through. But the time they reached Beam the momentum was entirely gone – though they touched him, they did not even pierce his clothes.Slowly, with his meat shield in place, Beam advanced on the remaining goblins. They both shared a glance with each other as they dared to fire another volley, before turning on their heels and attempting to sprint away.“Stay,” a brief moment of eye contact, and one of the goblins was rooted in place. Beam tossed his shield aside and picked up a spear instead. With a twist of his hips and shoulder, the spear went soaring, impaling the running goblin straight through its stomach. Its bow fell to the ground, as strength left its hands. It then fell to its knees, before falling face down to the floor, pushing the spear back through itself.