Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble - Chapter 242: How dare you (5)

Charles transmigrated to the Beast Mastery World and became a Beast Master.At the beginning, he participated in the Beast Awakening Ceremony, where there were thousands of pets with varying qualities. Which one should he choose?At the start, he participates in the Tamer Awakening Ceremony, with thousands of pets of varying qualities. Which one should he choose?Fortunately, he has awakened a system that allows him to see hints that only he can perceive.“Hint: 【The Double Sword Praying Mantis】, Lv1, decent skills but low quality, insufficient for later stages...”“Hint: 【The Four-Winged Tiger】, Lv1, strong and robust but timid, may abandon its master and run away...”“Hint: 【The Frost Wolf】, Lv5, Gold quality, extremely rare with both Ice and Fire attributes...”Charles: “I want to make a contract with the Frost Wolf!”Teacher: “The success rate for the first contract is 100%, which is very rare. Are you sure about your choice?”Guild: “This Frost Wolf is weak and has poor combat ability. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider?”Charles: “No need to reconsider. It’s the one!”

She is the slow-witted idiot of the Prime Minister’s Residence. Everyone bullies her. He is the most respected and unfeeling Prince, with frightening ability and absolute envy! Together, they are conferred an imperial edict of marriage.

An Extra is a minor background character with little to no influence on the main story. Their purpose is to fill out scenes and represent the larger world in which the story takes place.Yet,One Extra defied its existence. One Extra destroyed the story.********Luke, an editor, was transmigrated into the story with one goal:“Kill The Extra.”

“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.