Ms. Doctor Divine - Chapter 2465 - : Mission 145

A teenager who unexpectedly gets transported to the modern world from ‘the world of the immortals’ . He finds himself in the body of an ordinary guy. He wants to go back to his world and for that, he will have to practice to get stronger and investigate the reason why and how he crossed through to this world.

William Medici was not born into this world—he was reborn into it. But fate has already decided his role. He is not the hero. Not the noble king who rules with honor. He is the villain.A system lurks within him, not as a guide, but as an ever-present spectator—one that delights in chaos. It grants no power freely, offers no redemption, only a whisper:The world is a stage. Your role is the villain. Play it well.In a realm where betrayal is currency and power is the only law, William does not resist fate—he embraces it. Every alliance is a move on the board. Every rival, a piece to be sacrificed. Every betrayal, already foreseen.But even a villain is not invincible. Enemies rise. Shadows scheme. And the system watches, amused—waiting to see if he will fall...Or if he will burn the world to prove that even fate can be rewritten.But one question remains:“Who summoned him… and what do they want in return?”--------------------------------AUTHOR HEREWilliam Medici starts off seeming wholesome—but don’t be deceived. He’s selfish, cunning, and manipulative to the core. This is a true villain’s journey.What makes this story stand out isn’t just the dark MC, but the deep world-building, unique power system, and layered, three-dimensional characters that evolve with every twist.more things(1) the first arc is introduction of the world so other is no deep manipulation or action but from the second arc the main chaos starts manipulation. killing and obviously charm.(2) The mc is cunning not because I say so but because he is.(3) the will be new chapters regularly.

I was sixteen when the gods abandoned me.The Blessing Ritual was supposed to grant me power, a divine gift to carve my future. Instead, I received nothing. No abilities. No hope. Just another nameless soul left to rot in a world ruled by strength.Fine. If the gods wouldn’t bless me, I’d make my own power.For ten years, I clawed my way forward, experimenting with forces no human should touch. I pushed too far—and it killed me.Then I woke up.Sixteen again. Back at the Ritual. But this time, something changed.Time bends at my will. Blood moves when I command it.The gods still won’t acknowledge me, but it doesn’t matter. This world isn’t fair, and I’ve stopped playing by its rules. Faith and Chaos clash in my veins, and I will use them both.They wanted a Chosen Hero, someone to dance to their tune.Well, too bad for them—I’ll carve my own fate.

“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.