The Devil Does Not Need to Be Defeated - Chapter 0: Prologue

It was one thing to have my hands and feet securely tied, but why was my mouth also sealed? I should at least have been ...It was one thing to have my hands and feet securely tied, but why was my mouth also sealed? I should at least have been able to make a noise! Why was I confined in a mental asylum? Why did it seem like everyone was afraid of me? Why... do I feel like laughing?----------------This is a story where Holmes and the Joker wreak havoc on the SCP Foundation. I hope everyone will enjoy it!

After failing to ascend to the heights of Divinity despite all her preparations, an ancient cultivator finds herself not embracing the emptiness of the void - but the interior warmth of a womb.Her memories intact despite her spirit being a merest fraction of her height - and her trusted Astralism unchanged - she carefully starts over from an infant.How to navigate her family: [really easy with only two parents and an estate full of servants!]How to portray herself: [everyone likes 'sweet' kids and trusts (underestimates) 'weak' girls!]How 'quickly' to reveal the power she gathers: [this region is a 'backwater', let's just take it slow~]How her marriage was arranged before birth: [my parents adore me so at an appropriate time I'll just have it cance- oh?]Dealing with an 'amusing' deceit: ['he' looks worried still, but 'he' doesn't have to worry from me!]Confronting the 'boy' in private: [whatever their iffy plan is, I just obtained a husband-wife~]Even in a new life, | Elua er Goltbred | can't and doesn't *want* to change who she really is. A scheming cultivator. A possessive lover. Neither of those things had been a real hindrance to the Peak of Demi-God.Balancing the two in this life - without driving away the young 'boy' she decided would be hers - centers as much around helping | Qatrand er Yecine | find herself... as it is hoping to ease the fiance into how messed up the 'younger' girl honestly is.It's a good thing that the reborn cultivator can improvise with her ridiculous control of an Illusion Astralism - because plans fail and unexpected things happen when you're not *really* a genius.Like her Physique in this life allowing the lightest 'grip' to crack stone...| Qat | (the nickname picked almost instantly!) despite being a little stunted by her family environment early on, finds her future wife to be 'cute' on their first meeting.... she really shouldn't have let on.It made her | El | kind of vain.Oh, and muscles.| Elua | : I just like looking at them, okay!? Is it so weird? People can have hobbies...

“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.

“Your Majesty, please break-off my marriage with Her Highness the Imperial Princess. I fell in love with Lady Adriane Reese.”

“Six engagements, Six break-ups.”

The princess’s fiancé always had an affair with the maids!

“I don’t want to marry the crown prince, I want to live with my father forever…”

“Such a useless being. Begone!”

The princess who is known to be weak and s*upid, Apollonia.

But she has another hidden face…

“It’s because the throne is hard to obtain, my father also spent 10 years on trying to kill my mother, the empress.”

As Apollonia grinned, her red eyes shone intensely. Usurpation of the throne.

Her goal was clear. She was never shaken.

‘I want to live my life with my father.’

To be exact, I want to live my life where my father is seated.

Please wait, father. Your daughter is on her way.

To take back everything that was stolen from me.