Stop, Friendly Fire! - Chapter 44 part4

Hey! Yes, it’s you! Where are you going in such a hurry? Oh, I know, I know life is not easy, but do n’t try too hard.

You ask me what I am doing here? Haha, I just sit here and tell some old-fashioned stories about wizards, dragons … you know, those things that have appeared in our dreams.

Hey, guess what, if you are not so anxious, why not sit down and listen to them?

Although I think I am not a good storyteller, I can guarantee that this story is absolutely my heart!

Come listen, maybe, it can make you dream again, those that have long been forgotten by us … legend.

- Description from Qidian

“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.

Hello, my name is Bologue Lazarus, a debtor.The wound on Bologue's face is healing at an observable speed. The blood remaining on his face flows back, and the skin is reattached, as if time is reversing.Faced with the terrified dying demon, he whispered.This is my “blessing”, the “debt” I owe.Sixty-six years ago, with the end of the Scorched Earth Fury, Opus of Oath City rose from the ruins of the Holy City.Sixty-six years later, the Kagader Empire and Rhine Alliance, two colossal entities spanning the continent, are plotting another all-consuming war.Order Bureau, King's Secret Sword, Order of Truth, Corrupted Sect, All Secrets Order... existences hidden in the shadows of history, trying to join this grand celebration.Under the curtain, the devils enjoy the agony of mortals, taste the values offered, manipulate fate, and bestow curses and blessings.Gazing at the mortals who were originally kindred spirits, they loathe and slaughter each other...

From a stumbling lion cub to a majestic lion king, he imagines that his life as a lion would peak and end with him owning a vast territory, dominating the grasslands, terrifying all his enemies while having many wives and concubines.