MTL - Almighty Game Designer (Almighty Video Game Designer) - Chapter 1125 Break

The cycle of life is not infinite—except, perhaps, for Elijah.At 122 years old, Elijah lived a long and successful life—until he woke up as someone entirely new. Now, an anomaly in a mysterious kingdom sustained by magic, he faces questions about his place in a world that doesn't defy the laws of nature, but take them to an entirely new level.For over six millennia, this isolated realm of 300,000 citizens has thrived, its survival bound to the magic that nurtures its air, water, and food. Yet, some whisper that a kingdom refusing to expand is doomed to fall. How, then, has this kingdom endured?As Elijah uncovers ancient secrets, dives into treacherous cave systems, and grapples with the fatal flaws of magic, he learns the truth about existence itself—forces that shaped the cosmos. New alliances rise to confront an ancient plague, and the kingdom's delicate balance teeters on the edge of collapse.In this world, the vibrant hues of freedom and potential are mere illusions, like sunlight filtered through stained glass. Elijah must decide whether to shatter the illusion—or embrace it.————This novel goes into great detail about the ways of the people and how it will differ from the suspected outside world. What seems like a population of people who do not have much knowledge, show how they found their way by “feeling”, or by anecdotal(personal) evidence.

“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.

[Mature Content]
'He was sin. A sin she was not supposed to commit to.'
—

The body of a mermaid is a vault of treasures. Their tears formed the most splendid of pearls, their exquisite blood a euphoric drug for vampires, their luscious hair woven into the finest of silk, and their tender meat sought after by werewolves more than Heaven’s ambrosia.

The creatures of night mingled within human society, fleeced in the wool of aristocracy, veiled in their portrayed innocence and nobility, their savagery continued to predate on the weak and powerless.

Genevieve Barlow, Eve for short, was an exceptionally strange young lady. She had an alluring and beguiling nature, where for her twenty-four year old self had barely changed in appearance since her eighteenth birthday. She had fooled the administration and had gotten a degree so that she could have a better life.

Most odd of all was that Eve had a secret she shared with no one.

She enters the house of Moriarty, not just to earn but also to find answers on what happened to her mother nearly two decades ago.

Unfortunately, things do not always proceed as one planned. Despite her cautious nature and desire to stay out of sight, a cold pair of eyes falls on her, that soon refuses to leave her out of sight.

The protagonist, Punk, is a cautious, cold-blooded, and ruthless Mage.

His goal is always his top priority, over feelings or morality. When unnecessary, he doesn’t like to act like pigs to eat tigers; there are almost no life and death struggles, sometimes risky but steady progress. No strong enemy everywhere, Instead, Punk is always a strong enemy of others.

And he has a very keen interest in the secrets and teachings of the Netheril civilization.