I Became Invincible After Sweeping The Floor For 70 Years - Chapter 98 - Attitudes Toward the Human(3)

When a satellite photo of the Arctic was sent back to the countries, the people of the earth were shocked by the content of the photo.They saw thousands of wolves in the Arctic, which even included hundreds of polar bears and Arctic silver foxes, all uniformly looking obedient.On the top of the snowy mountain, a giant Arctic wolf, whose size exceeded everyone's imagination, was looking down on the Arctic ice field from a high position.

Xue Xi is forced to fall in love at first sight with this dangerous man on their first meeting. With death being the only other option, she makes the first move:

Kyros Steele was the strongest warrior in the Omega Kingdom. But when the Great War of All began, this kingdom fell. Kyros was captured.

Destined to become a slave through necromancy, Kyros could only curse at his led bitter life.

But on his final moments, he meets an eccentric Old Man who claimed to be the God of Time.

Much like Kyros, this Old Man was fated for suffering and defeat. Because the God of Time could not be killed, the Great Gods conspired to curse him and make him human first. And so the God of Time escaped but was now human. Even if he used his powerful magic to send his consciousness back in time, he would still be defeated, for his soul was no longer a god but a man.

Helpless as his time-traveling rebirth would easily fail, the God of Time offers and asks for Kyros's help. He would send Kyros back along with his own consciousness back in time. This would hide the God of Time from his enemies and give Kyros the chance to fulfill his revenge.

Just when the two were about to time travel, a shocking mystery caused the God of Time to marvel in awe. Kyros was not a human but had the bloodline of the most accursed and dangerous race of all.

Kyros is the legendary Nephilim.

And so begins the Ascension of the Nephilim.

“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.