Unintended Cultivator - Chapter 3Book 8: : Glimmer, in the Dark

A genius magician, to fight against his fate to die a natural death from old age, grasped at the truth of magic to allow himself to reincarnate with a power he created himself.

The cycle of reincarnation is repeated multiple times and in his 31st reincarnation, the magician became a boy named Syril who lives in a village of elves.

However, that village is ruled by Humans, and the Elves are treated as livestock.

After becoming 14 years old, Syril, who regained his past knowledge and experience, stands up to help a girl, who is his childhood friend.

The story of the creation of an ideal country begins in that one village, a place where all races can coexist. Elves, Fox-girl, and various other Heroines.

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“Everyone deserves a happy ending, don’t they?”…In the brutal fantasy RPG Fall of Ares, saving the world came at a cruel price — the deaths of every heroine the player had grown to love. No matter how skilled you were, their sacrifices were inevitable. The game warned you not to get attached.But one young man did.After beating the game and lamenting their tragic fates, he wakes up in its world — reborn as an extra, armed with one mission from a mysterious system:[Change their endings. Let them live.]Now enrolled at Mysteria Academy alongside the heroines doomed to die, he must rewrite fate itself. For every girl he saves, he’s rewarded. But the world resists change. Calamities draw closer. The true enemy — the Children of the Sky — are watching.And one of the heroines… remembers it all.

(Warning: Harem, if you don’t like it, please refrain! Boldly breaking taboo ethical norms, not letting go of any beautiful women encountered!) A young nobleman with a delicate constitution, pure and kind, has always been protected by everyone. However, after two months of military camp life, he began to change for the worse. With unbeatable power in his hands, he became lawless, targeting countless beautiful women in the city. In his eyes, every beautiful woman is like a delicate flower. He wants to gather these tender flowers around him, then extend his strong wings to shield them from any harm...

“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.