Myst, Might, Mayhem - Chapter 497.19

Time travelling from the majestic era after the Recuperation of Reiki, he became Kimura Kazuki, a 16-year-old high school student in Japan, one year before the Reiki Recuperation.

Tentatively, he set out to hone himself to the bone, burning candles at both ends to stockpile resources in preparation for the imminent Recuperation of Reiki. His goal was to be many steps ahead of all humanity when the time comes.

However, it seemed like fate had decided to play a cruel trick on him.

One year later, the Recuperation of Reiki… did not happen as expected.

Jin, a guy with no direction in life, through an unfortunate event gets his hands on a Hitman System. What transpired then was a struggle to escape the eyes of the cops while trying to complete the system’s missions. However, through a series of coincidences, he soon finds out that his parents’ death was not an accident. Read how he uncovers the veil that has obscured the truth from his eyes since childhood and finds out the darkness that hides under this veil. ‍

[Matured Content]Saving an injured Fae in the forest had not been Islinda's plan, and worse, he turns out to be royalty, Prince Valerie of the summer court, heir and crown prince to the throne of Astaria.But then, humans were wary of those otherworldly creatures while the Fae looked down on the humans, thinking of them as lesser creatures. Islinda and the prince were worlds apart but that didn't stop them from falling in love. Unfortunately, Prince Valerie couldn't stay in the human realm forever and had to return to his kingdom with a promise to come back for her. And she believed him. But then, the other one comes instead. Dark, broody, ruthless yet dangerously handsome, everyone feared Prince Aldric. Even as a fierce warrior and son to the king of Astaria, Aldric is denied his right to the throne and cursed never to take his place because of his dark heritage. Twisted from the inside and starved of affection, Prince Aldric does what he is best at, causing misery. He captured Islinda - the woman who has drawn his brother's attention. He stole her from her home for his cruel purpose. If he couldn't have the throne, he could at least play around with his brother's love interest. His new prize. Islinda hated him. Loathed him for taking away everything that she could have had with the summer prince. He's the villain. Now she has been dragged into the middle of the dirty politics played in the courts of Astaria, not to mention surviving the cold games played by the prince. But all hope wasn't lost because the cruel prince could tempt her all he wants but he was never going to get the one thing he wants the most. To be loved. He would never have her heart! Or could he? ________“What can you offer me, little human,” He grinned, slow and cruel. She would make such a wonderful plaything. “Please,” She begged him, tears now gathering in her eyes, “Just let me go.” “Fine,” He shrugged as if it was an easy request, “You can go.” “W-what?” She croaked, finding it hard to believe. “Little human, you would find out my mind changes very easily.” Those words sounded merciful yet she could sense the threat beneath. But did he really mean? Islinda didn't sit around to find out as she broke into a sprint. If there was even the slightest chance of him changing his mind, then she would take it. She would not give up hope yet. She didn't know why but Islinda spared a look over her shoulder after a while and the blood drained from her face at what she saw coming. Oh no, she just made a terrible mistake. This was never freedom. It was a hunt. And she just became the prey.

“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.