Reincarnated as a Mushroom? - Chapter 49 - 48: "The Carrot, the Lash, and the Skyborne Sinner"

mc gets transmigrated to Fallout New Vegas with the merchant system. let the questionable adventure begin.

In a world where everyone is undergoing their profession's transition, I've surprisingly awakened to two professions.Moreover, I've also awakened a defiance lifestyle profession.Preserve high-quality items? I'll just synthesize them.Preserve high-quality skills? I'll synthesize those as well.Preserve high-level pets? I'll keep synthesizing. Wait, why is this beast-girl so large after the synthesis?Let's start by synthesizing three “Skeleton Summonings.”Synthesize into—The “Undead Army.”Now, let's synthesize three Dark Wands.Synthesize into—The “Death's Scepter.”In the grand interspecies gaming contest of the universe, can we, humans of the Solar System and Earth, ascend to an even broader stage?......

In the middle of nowhere, where there was no beginning nor the end, a voice echoed, shaking the space a little.

“NO!!! This was not why I died, I have to go back. Fu—.”

Noah who was the god in a magical world dies at the hand of a weak mage, it seemed everything was under his control but he panicked when his plans seemed to have fallen apart because of the interference of an unknown entity.

Reborn in the body of a 14 year old boy, Noah cursed his fate, he was in a completely different world where Qi is used instead of magical power.

Noah did not lose hope and Used his trump card and something weird happened with it too.

He looked at the fairy in front of him looking back without any emotions on her face. She gave him a mountain of gold while claiming.

“Here take it all, because from now on, ‘I am your Sugar Mommy~’!”

…

Noah was speechless at her exclamation, his eyes resembled that of a dead person. ‘I The Mage god feared by all got a sugar mommy….’

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“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.