MTL - I Have a Luck Altar - Chapter 707 The magic flame is monstrous!

The protagonist fell asleep while playing an online game. However, he awoke in a strange world with his game character’s appearance. In a state of shock, he noticed that he was equipped with nothing but his strongest weapon and armor. To make matters worse, our hero’s appearance was changed by the special avatar skin『Skeleton』when he entered this new world. The protagonist wanted to live without drawing attention, but he got acquainted with the dark elf Ariana and received her request.

“Where did he go?” I murmured, realizing I was alone.My heart sank as I scanned the room for any sign of him. But It was just me, an empty wine bottle on the floor, and memories of the night before.I pushed myself up, feeling the dull ache in my body.The alcohol still lingered in my system, and I had no idea how many times we had... well, how many times we had done it. But despite everything, I couldn't deny I had enjoyed it.“You're such an idiot Kim!” I scolded myself, running a hand through my messy hair. “You didn't even ask for his name.” I sighed, embarrassed at my recklessness.How could I let myself go low with a stranger like that?I glanced down, realizing I was completely naked. “Oh my gosh!” I yelped, grabbing my dress off the floor and quickly slipping it on...★★Humiliated and betrayed, Kimberly Fray's life as a powerful Alpha's daughter of the Moon Stone Pack crumbles when Alpha Derrick of the Night Walkers Pack rejects her.But as she uncovers her true identity, Kimberly finds herself caught between two ruthless Alphas who desire her.Torn between Alpha Derrick, who begins to see her worth too late, and the Alpha King, Kimberly's strength and courage are tested like never before.In a world where love, revenge, and power collide, Kimberly must decide who she truly is, and who she's meant to be with between the two Alphas chosen by the Moon Goddess!

“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.