MTL - It’s a Stepmother, Not a Sister [70s] - Chapter 133 Fat

This is the story of a person who transmigrated into a world with a radically different worldview.

So different, in fact, that he is considered a female in that world!

Cheng Nuo: What? Why did you say that I’m female?

Author: You only have one Tintin. The males of this world have two Tintins.

Cheng Nuo: No way! My hands are itchy… I want to cut one off!

- Description from Novelupdates

The Strongest Magic meets the Mightiest Mecha.

I have stolen Golden Mechas from the deepest vaults of the most tightly guarded fortresses in the world.

I have personally destroyed more armies than the top three superpowers have in the span of the Absolute War - combined.

I burned down the terrorist megacity of Habon.

I was expelled from the Union of Heroes at a younger age than people are allowed in.

I have talked to Ancient Gods, loved women, and devoured mechas that would make superpowers cringe in fear.

I have faced demons head on in moonless nights others fear to speak of during the day.

I am deified in a thousand cultures, and labelled as the devil incarnate in the rest.

I am the Mecha Emperor.

You may have heard of me.

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Excerpt from Chapter 1

This is where it all began.

A junkyard.

Oh no, this isn't your clean, mechas-only junkyard that was the 'starting point' of many mecha geniuses out there.

I have seen and heard my share of rags-to-riches stories, and many of them claimed that they had started from 'junkyards' and slowly grew to be where they were right now.

From Zero to Hero, they declared.

You can do it too, they said.

As long as you work hard, everything is possible, they claimed.

I call bullshit.

Life doesn't work like that.

They stole his future and crippled his body. Now, he’ll rewrite the history in blood.Damon was on the verge of greatness—first in line to claim Bloodreign, the legendary artifact said to grant unmatched power in Earth Online, the world’s first fully immersive VR game. But his best friend betrayed him, stealing the item, and leaving Damon broken, crippled and nearly deleted. Kicked from the guild, mocked by the community, and trapped in a weak, crippled body, he was forgotten until his last desperate attempt somehow brought him back in time to the day when it all began.Now Damon was back and he knew what he was going after.A hidden lineage. A cursed class. A bloodline sealed since the dawn of the multiverse.Last time he played fair. Last time he trusted. This time he would hunt and devour. With years of knowledge of every exploit, every secret quest, every bugged mechanic, he will climb straight to the top. Armed with the blood of the first Vampire King, he was an apex predator now who stood at the very top.However, unbeknownst to him, a catastrophe lurks in the shadows. Damon finds out that the game itself might not be as simple as it seemed and the entire future of the humanity might depend on this game.

“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.