What? System Wants Me To Steal MILFs To Become Stronger! - Chapter 262: Corrupting Sylvia [R18]

“The first rule of Duskwind Academy is not to look the Alphas in the eyes. I broke the first rule, and now, four of them want me… and everyone else wants me gone.”___________The werewolf world is crumbling. Power-hungry elites have ruled lawlessly for centuries, and now the packs are collapsing. To restore balance, the Moon Goddess begins choosing humans from across the globe and giving them the werewolf gift. These “Moon-Blessed” are her final hope.Heidi Remington is one of them.Unwanted, gifted, and dropped into the ruthless Pack, she’s taken in by the Delta’s family, only to be treated like a glorified servant for being human-born. She's enrolled in the Duskwind Pack Academy where the power games are even worse, and the Moon-Blessed are barely tolerated.Heidi just wants to survive her first day. But everything changes the moment she locks eyes with the four feared, admired, and untouchable Alpha heirs of Duskwind.They weren’t supposed to notice her. They definitely weren’t supposed to feel the bond. Now, with four possessive Alphas circling her and the entire academy out for blood, Moon becomes the center of a storm she never saw coming.And in Duskwind,storms don't pass… they destroy.

“Mr. Kira, many people believe that the current dueling environment has become increasingly toxic, with dominant trends of heavy traps and defensive, closed-off playstyles. They say this unhealthy atmosphere was brought about by you, as the new generation's Duel King. What do you think about this?” a reporter asked during an interview.“Slander! Pure slander!”Kira was angered by this accusation.“Why say it was me who started this?”“Dueling has always been like this!”It's not his fault.Who let him play Yu-Gi-OH!

“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.

If an ancient scholar searches through the mists of history, he or she will find such an existence:Pope of the night,Angel of the Creator,The hidden emperor of the empire,…He is also the perfect mentor;Wanmen’s guidance,The original source of pain...No one knows where he came from, only that he was born with knowledge and has been with him for years.Let us chant his honorable name together:Spirit of truth, pure man, master of dreams, supreme beyond all eternity