The Anarchic Consort - Chapter 30: The Games Begin

Connor finds himself in a world of spy mages with powers like fire, water, air, earth, and manifestation, all which require using wands. But, there are these powers–powerful powers–that require nothing but their own body. These are called Perks, which are super rare and only go down in certain family lines all around the world. These are many things that occur in the spy mage world.

These spy mages still act like spies. They infiltrate bases and take down ruthless leaders using their powers. They have to keep themselves unknown by the world at risk of being hunted by the government. If they were to be shown to the world, the entire world would be in a war against these people. These things are stuff that Connor never knew existed.

He attends the YMPA academy, where he finds friends and learns how to use his power.

But he finds himself in a war against the MSTO, powerful and evil spy mage corporations that want to steal and create weapons to take over the US and the world. Everyone would be in danger of their tyranny, and they need to be stopped right here and right now. And that mission has been given to Connor to defeat them. Will Connor and his team stop the MSTO and save humanity? What other powers will Connor discover?

Find out in Spy Mage System.

If you’re for a more action-packed story, and this should be good for you. Although there is brief romance, there is some throughout the story—so no need to worry much if you want some romance and relationship in this book.

Character development will happen pretty slowly, so pay close attention.

Hope you enjoy!

“Even if this universe is truly nothing more than a brutal bloody shadowy forest, we Cultivators will burn all that we have just to give off a single weak flickering spark in the darkness!

“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.