Maou-sama no Machizukuri! ~Saikyou no Danjon wa Kindai Toshi~ - Volume 2 Chapter 18

Every time he dies, Ethan Hill gains a little more power.Earth was chosen for Integration, but Ethan knows from the second his Trial begins that the Integration is a lie. These creatures giving Earth the 'honor' of access to their Interface want something from Earth - he just doesn't know what.Now he's trapped on an alien planet and lost in a time loop, fighting for strength and for his own humanity.One thing's for sure: He'll die as many times as it takes to tear it all down.

It was in the middle of the night that the woman who would be the Duchess came to see me.

She said my father and mother died, and my kind uncle became king.

She said it’s not worth it for me, the crown prince, to be living in hiding, too.

“A while ago, Your Highness had been hiding from me. With all due respect, is that for the sake of survival? Just because your parents died doesn’t mean you have no reason to survive. Actually, that fact alone made it all the more reason why you should live. If you die now…”

If I died now?

When I asked her while looking at her eyes, the woman eventually brought out the harsh truth with empathetic eyes.

“It’s like a dog’s death.”

“That’s rude….”

It’s been a long time since I said that. In a short while, he has been treated as a madman and beaten to death just by saying similar things. She loosened her arms that held me and I suddenly stiffened up due to it. Because I thought she might have loosened her arm to hit me. But she didn’t.

She knelt down with one knee in front of me, just like a knight.

“Hastred’s Sarian raised her salutations. May you accept it gladly.”

My first knight is beautiful and kind.

“Are you on my side?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

It was all a lie.

“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.

It’s the vacation of a lifetime, a trip to a remote island filled with geniuses and murder.