Night of the Broken Gliph - Chapter 72

Ten Years after the Descent to Earth of a Radical And All-Knowing System Called Arkadia, Life has changed in ways we could only surmise given we lived in a comic book. People with superpowers, Monsters, Heroes and Villains, Hell, there were even Other races coming out of the woodwork like Elves and such. Still, it wasn’t until The Extraterrestrials Invaded that things went from bad to worse.Yet, as if hope truly existed, 5000 of us Earthlings were given the opportunity to Head back into the past, only we didn’t know at the time there was a cost for doing so. By sending us back, the Descent Clock began, as Arkadia was pushed 10000 years into the Future, and it was up to us Returners to get things set back on course by changing the past to mold the Future.And I, being a boogieman of a Villian in what I dubbed the Origin Timeline, have come up with thousands of potential ways to affect my new life, like stealing popular franchises to earn some long-term funds or….hunting down notorious Serial Kills and Solving long-standing Cold cases I had been curious about since I was a teenager.

Akira Kisaragi traverses into the Bleach world, unlocking a check-in system.He initially thought that by checking in daily, he could become stronger, soon become the Captain-Commander, join Division Zero, punch Yhwach, kick the Soul King, and marry Unohana...However, the system's style wasn't quite what he had imagined.〈 Check-in complete, obtained Genryūsai Yamamoto's secret roasted sweet potato! 〉〈 Check-in complete, obtained exclusive attribute: King of Normal Attacks, effect... 〉〈 Check-in complete, obtained Retsu Unohana's... 〉Akira's eyes suddenly lit up!“Seems like this might not be so bad after all!”

“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.

She had conquered all the mysteries of psychology.

She had won all the major psychology awards.

She was the most expensive psychologist in the industry, charging by the second.

She was the universally acknowledged queen of psychology.

She was reborn.

She stood at a crossroads when she was 18, aspiring to become the villainous boss or to make money by curing illnesses.

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