Fatal Shot - Chapter 698: City Building

Xiao Feng, the protagonist of the story was an ace at online games. By accident, he knew a game called Mystery which can reduce human’s energy consumption and improve the space-allocation on the earth. In this game, he hit monsters, increased his levels and met a lot of friends. However, at the same time, he was inevitably drawn into the struggle within and outside the labor union. What should he do? And what difficulties would he face? The following are his inner monologues.

I was killed in the game and asked him/her to fight offline only to find that she was a girl. What should I do?

I wanted to be a support and carry my team-mates only to find that all of them were newbies, what should I do?

Please don’t court death and let me kill the boss with the hammer!

To conclude, this story is about a support who would have liked to carry all his team-mates. However, after realizing that support could not save the world, he resolutely picked up the hammer and killed the boss in the game.

So to begin, this is technically a skyrim fanfic.Why isn't it in the fan-fics then?Simple! It's based on a game and I don't feel that counts as a fan-fic.Second, I've read like a few skyrim stories here lately. I liked them, as a bethesda fan boy... Well, now I need to take a crack at it. I literally start a new game of skyrim every new year. Its my tradition, so I felt I had to do this.If its bad, ah well. If its good, GREAT! Overall though, I feel we need more skyrim based stories or fan-fics. It has the perfect setting for the transmigration genre. Now read at your own risk.

“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.

He was the hunting hound of the Baskerville family.

But at the end, he was branded as a traitor and executed.

— — —

Now, he has returned… after 40 years.

“This time, they will be my prey… and I’ll bite every single one of them to death!”