MTL - Life Going Wild With Plug-ins - Chapter 6 Named crematorium

One choice can change everything in the Multiverse—a simple decision, a single moment, a shift in fate. In the vast expanse of timelines, Subaru Natsuki’s life takes an unexpected turn when a seemingly random choice disrupts the course of his journey.My name is Subaru. I used to think that being transmigrated into a different world would be a dream come true. But after dying countless times, I've realized it's nothing like I imagined. Death doesn’t come easy, and neither does power. I thought I had it all figured out, but now I find myself burdened with gifts... or curses, depending on how you see it.They call to me—the voices of the Witches.“Wow, sorry for visiting you,” Minerva’s voice echoes in his mind, her tone both playful and apologetic. Subaru grits his teeth. He knows too well what this means.“Sorry, Minerva,” Subaru mutters, though his voice is tinged with frustration and confusion.-----MC: SubaruShip: Subaru X HaremNow to make things clear, Suberu is still going too die, die a lot almost, he will still need too deal with everything, just because he and more power's doesn't mens he is fully safe so yeah

In a galaxy ruled by warlords, guilds, and ancient tech cults, Kai Zareth is just another debt-ridden scavenger—until a legendary system descends upon him.“One Trader per 10,000 light years. One chance to rise.”Selected by the Cosmic Trade Nexus, Kai becomes the sole wielder of the Galactic Exchange System, a multidimensional platform that allows him to buy and sell across parallel worlds, forgotten realms, and alien civilizations.With only 12 hours to complete his first trade—or lose everything—Kai scrambles to make deals in a universe where information is power and one wrong barter could cost your life.From selling enchanted goblin toothbrushes in toxic slums to outwitting rival system users and forging alliances with forgotten races, Kai must build his empire item by item, realm by realm.But in a galaxy where traders kill for profit and system users are hunted like prey, being the Merchant Sovereign might be a bigger curse than a blessing.

Known as the country’s top onmyoji, Yuuma Kisaragi, who lived to the age of 99, awoke to find himself in an unfamiliar forest. A voice echoed in his mind, revealing that he had been reincarnated into another world at the age of 20.“Good morning, Master. Skip the greetings and please defeat the goblin in front of you.”The voice belonged to a skill acquired during reincarnation called “AI,” designed to assist Yuuma in his new life. When the skill, AI, took over the form of a golden-haired fox yokai, the familiar shape of Yuuma’s shikigami, he decided to embark on a new life alongside AI-chan.The onmyoji and AI-chan’s second life began, tackling various challenges and formidable enemies with the strongest spells and shikigami.

“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.