Primordial World: Big shots are all my friends - Chapter 107, Returning to Golden Turtle Island

It was in the year 2800 of the Midgard calendar. Back then, there was a Overlord who once reigned supreme and had reached the very brink of subduing the world.

Naoki traveled to the Pokémon world to inherit a ranch, and gained the ability to use cooking to bring magical powers to Pokémon.

As a result, some strange changes occurred in the Pokémon in the ranch.

The big milk jug that can use [Super Roll] at 360 degrees without any blind angle, the motorcycle lizard that leaves afterimages everywhere it passes as fast as lightning, the twin-tailed super that can knock Kirby beasts away with one hammer Hercules the Forge…

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The wild trainer who learned the news came specially to challenge the practice.

Naoki: Has the challenger arrived?

Steward Rotom: Report to Lotto, he got into a fight with our milk cow Lotto.

- Description from novelbuddy

Red-Outlaw follows the story of Yokais that are in the Race to become the next King as the Late king died. The story folds many deep mysterious, arcs and Adventure of Yokais and who will become the next Yokai King.

“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.