Reincarnation Of The Strongest Spirit Master - Chapter 1186: Tough Battle For The Team

“Spread your legs...” That haunting command was all she remembered from the grey-eyed stranger—the man she shared a night with.Now, Ariana is branded as cursed. The girl who killed her mother. A silent omen wrapped in whispers and fear. But the truth? It’s locked inside her, buried beneath silence… because Ariana is mute.And when fate cruelly reunites her with the very man who started it all, how can she defend herself—when she cannot even speak?In a world where rumors are louder than truth, will anyone ever hear her side of the story?

Shishio stared at the beautiful girl in front of him, and he couldn’t look away. Her waist might be the narrowest waist that he had ever seen, and he was wondering how it felt to hug that waist. Finally, he made up his mind and decided to say hello to her, but suddenly…

[Target has been found!]

«Huh?»

[Welcome to Scumbag System!]

[The more woman you have, the more rewards you will receive!]

[As a starting gift, you have received «Japanese Food Cooking Mastery»!]

[As the first target has been found, you also receive 500 million yen on your back account!]

[The journey has only been started!]

[Work hard, young man!]

«???????»

Shishio frowned and said, «I refuse!» without hesitation, but after a while…

«I refuse!.. I really refuse!.. I really try hard to refuse!.. Sorry, I can’t refuse it…»

Shishio tried really hard, but he couldn’t…

***

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

“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.

After coming out of a tunnel… it was pitch dark.