MTL - Steel, Guns and the Industrial Party Across the World - Chapter 567 calm

He was the cold-blooded prince of the Jin country. Decisive and smart, he had looked down on the world with apathy and disdain.

The Emperor had issued an official decree to appoint a successor to the throne—one who would become the next ruler of the empire.But instead of a direct appointment, the successor would be determined through a formal battle among the princes and princesses.A battle that would drag in many factions, overflow with conspiracies, claim countless lives, and reshape the entire continent... was about to begin.But among the contenders, there was one prince who had no intention of fighting—Nolan.Handsome, lazy, and utterly annoying, Nolan was well-known for the many unflattering titles given to him by those around him.Nolan: “Fighting to become emperor? Please... I just want to relax and enjoy life.”Rather than compete, he convinced his twin sister to fight in his place while he supported her from behind the scenes.Nolan: “My dear sister, I leave my future in your capable hands!”And with that, the prince’s journey toward a life of leisure—relying entirely on his sister—officially began.

‘Seoul 2056’ is set in a world that has fallen into chaos due to the spread of mutant viruses and the rebellion of androids. A hidden scenario was opened when all the endings were collected for the first time in the world.In a world where everyone’s body has been modified into a machine, and all kinds of monsters and hunters run wild, the only privilege given is [pure organism] , which is impossible to modify. In the apocalyptic cyberpunk world that has become reality, a veteran’s hellish survival story of being possessed by an F-class hunter!

“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.