Rebirth: Childhood friend of the heroine - Chapter 97 - 96- Advice

Kawaki, who was born in the dragon vein of a planet (Altana), first met Umibozu who was traveling in the universe, and his girlfriend, Kouka.Later, he came to Earth by accident and met the teacher who affected his life —Yoshida Shouyou.He also met a group of friends. The most conspicuous among the group of friends is a fool with silver hair and naturally curly hair, a short man with purple hair, and a little devil whose catchphrase is “Not Zura, it's Katsura!”Gintama Doujin, not transmigration.

** A Light Novel featuring a weak protagonist tasked with the impossible mission of saving a Virtual Reality world that has moved on without him. This post-apocalyptic sci-fi is brimming with drama, conspiracies, and action. **As the Santa María spaceship travels the galaxy in search of a new home for humanity, all passengers must remain in cryosleep and log into The Novus, a Virtual Reality MMORPG designed to train the younger generation in building a civilized society.Not only is this place a utopia, but it’s also a fresh start for seventeen-year-olds Alan and Astrid, who have just started dating.“Life in The Novus will be awesome with you by my side!”But an emergency pulls Alan out of the system—a catastrophe that endangers the lives of the Santa María's population and their mission.What will he find when he returns?Three years have passed. Astrid has become one of the strongest warriors, and Alan... is now the weakest User in the virtual world.

“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.