I'm the Farmgirl You Can't Mess With - Chapter 836: Default

On this land of real souls, with millions of different martial art institutions, there’re so many strong fighters just like the trees in the forests.

Liora was a pampered royal princess, with loving parents at the forefront and eleven royal brothers at her back. Always adorned with the finest silk and served with exquisite dishes while lounging in her palace.Her biggest concerns? Which dress to wear for a banquet and how many more hours she could nap before her royal duties caught up to her.But fate (or some seriously bad karma) had other plans. One moment, she was sipping fine wine and but the next moment-boom!—she wakes up in a world where people are eating each other, the sky is covered with ominous veils that look like it wants to swallow the world, and worse, her royal status means absolutely nothing.What she can tell more about her poor condition is that she has no servants, no food, and no idea how to fight off the disgusting zombies, who are trying to take a bite out of her.Just when she’s ready to scream at the heavens for an explanation, a cold mechanical voice rings in her head:[Welcome, Host. You have activated the Overlord System.]Overlord? That sounds powerful, right? Wrong. Turns out, she starts at the bottom of the food chain with no powers, no weapons, and zombies that see her as their next snack.While others awaken abilities like fire manipulation or super strength, she gets... a system that gives missions with questionable rewards and always tries to drown her in a huge debt.Fight a Level 2 Zombie with her bare hands? Sure, why not? Survive hordes of zombies while the system nags her? Classic. But as she battles to level up and gathers allies (some willing, some just too scared to say no). She realizes—maybe she isn’t as weak as she thought.Because when the world falls into chaos, only the strongest can rule. And if the system insists on calling her an Overlord, well… she might as well live up to the name.Power, danger, and a system that may or may not be trying to get her killed—welcome to the apocalypse.

“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.

One night she gets drunk and mistakes the most well-known Mafia boss for a host and intends to sleep with him.

Oh my! What should I do? It’s best to run away!

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