MTL - Lie Huo Jiao Chou - Chapter 75

Throughout this current life of mine, I will pay no attention to my past lives, nor will I seek future lives. I wish to live vigorously, to pay back debt of gratitude and fulfill duty to avenge, to defeat valiant heroes from all species, and to proudly laugh at all the Gods and Demons of the Six Path of Reincarnation!

[Congratulations! You have acquired the Fenrir system.]

[Congratulations! You have become the incarnation of the End!]

Erik kept an inquisitive look at the window suspended before him, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening. Before him unfolded a strange system, now active, linked to the legendary beast, Fenrir.

The floating window seemed oblivious to mundane concerns. Just as he had read earlier, it had awakened an enigmatic system linked to the mythical creature, Fenrir.

However, with this mysterious system granting him the power of “The End”, Erik embarks on a journey into a world where dungeons and beings from mythology coexist.

Join Erik on this thrilling adventure as he embarks on a journey to become an unparalleled presence.

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In a world where martial artists reign supreme, strength is everything. Unfortunately, that logic doesn't apply to a certain Florida Man.

Refined in the nuclear fallout wasteland, Leo was the strongest mutant alive. He carried an alien artifact, allowing him to exchange his lifespan for modern items. After 50,000 years of solitary life in a humanless world, he collected enough lifespan to transmigrate to another habitable world.

Leo was later thrown into a mysterious planet. He soon discovered that his body produced radiation, and it mutated the surrounding plants and grasses. Worrying that he might ruin the beautiful planet, he chose to live in seclusion.

Unfortunately, the local population soon discovered his existence, and a misunderstanding ensued.

“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.