E-Rank or SSS-Rank: I Awakened a Skill That Shouldn't Exist - Chapter 226: Destroy The Cursed (43)

Just something I made to keep track of some of my favourite essences & powers from fics. {with personal twists}

Aric Valerian, the fourth prince of the Valerian Empire, bears many titles: The Forgotten Prince, The Whore’s Child, The King’s Bastard—names that have been spoken more than his own. Born with a crippling illness and devoid of mana or ki, Aric was a disgrace, scorned by his family and the court. But when the gods cured him and gifted him the strength to fight, Aric dared to hope. He sought glory in battle, only to be betrayed by his brother and sent to die in a hopeless war. In his final moments, as death closed in, a mysterious text appeared before him… [Would you like to change your fate?] After being given another chance, Aric embarks on a ruthless journey to claim absolute sovereignty. [Ki Circulation Mastered: Strength +10] [System Upgrade: Advanced tactical planning unlocked] [Hidden Fortress Established: Stronghold security +15%] The forgotten prince claws his way through the treacherous landscape of imperial politics, he is forced to make impossible choices, each decision pushing him further down a path soaked in blood. He learns that true power demands sacrifice, and the price of vengeance may be his soul.

Mana finally arrived in our world after being delayed for unknown reasons, causing the evolution of everything that had life.

Humans, plants, and monsters all evolved, ushering the planet into a new era in which old laws no longer applied and the only law in the world was the rule of the jungle, where the strong preyed on the weak.

It was a question of whether we, the 'rulers' of the land, would be able to maintain our position and adapt to whatever came after our planet's awakening, and if we did, was that the end?

“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.