Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken (WN) - Chapter 10 – The Battle of the Goblin Village

A lowly child beggar, a noble prince, a monster viewed as the enemy of the entire world. If you possess all three identities at the same time, which identity would you choose to help you earn a better ending?

Thales did not have the answer.

He only knew that he came to a different and magnificent world, and he had to face a future that was as difficult to handle as a nightmare.

The glorious Empire had already been destroyed for one thousand years, the dying royal family suffered many problems, the legendary sacred battle had plenty of conspiracies, the divided world was in chaos.

But Thales had nothing.

The only thing he had left was an unswerving determination to preserve his own identity, bravery which would allow him to survive in a perilous situation, and a belief that he would never submit to principles he did not believe.

“A King does not gain respect by virtue of his bloodline. The bloodline’s glory rests on the deeds of the King.”

Darkness will baptize light. Fire will create true steel. The forbidden prince’s story starts here.

- Description from Novelupdates

In 1930s Canada, a 16-year-old landlord unlocks a System unlike anything this world has seen—a power that lets him grant supernatural abilities drawn from warriors of another realm. Barbarians, Archers, Wizards… all under his command.

In the Dragon Abyss Empire, nestled within Clear Water Town, young Jiaang Lin awakens from a brutal beating by his cousin Jiaang Ren, only to discover he has been reborn into his younger self. Once a mocked disciple with blocked meridians, Jiaang Lin had risen to greatness in his past life as a prodigious warrior and Pill Saint. Now, with a second chance, he vows to protect his loved ones and conquer his enemies. How will Jiaang Lin change his destiny and ascend to the pinnacle of martial prowess once more?

“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.