Am I a crispy college student? The whole internet says that I'm hard to kill! - Chapter 9 - Are You Being Polite?

I want to go to the fairy road, step on the gods, I want to be happy!
Repair the baby, cast the fairy body, and smash the fairy mark!
The starry sky opens, the gods fight, and the depths of Chen’s home are back!
I am Xiao Hua, this is the story of my god that I am in the world of immortality, creating souls, dying, dying, and not dying.

- Description from Uukanshu translation

“I am an evil god. Would you like to make a contract?” In “Phantom Heroes Online,” a VRMMO where in-game currency can be converted to real money, a man, worn out by society, decides to quit his job and earn a living through gaming. In this fantasy world of swords and magic, players contract with advanced AI NPCs, aiding and nurturing them. The protagonist, Zephyr, whimsically tells a young girl a lie, claiming to be her savior. Believing Zephyr to be the “god who rescued her from despair,” the yandere girl transforms into the formidable “Reaper Loli,” a top-tier berserker feared as the “Fanatic” across the continent. She rises to become one of the game’s top players, dominating the leaderboards. Unbeknownst to Zephyr and the other players, their actions in the game are actually leading to saving of another world.

Gon is the son of the duke of Hannan, but he has one problem, he has no mana. This makes him the subject of mockery among everyone in the town.It seems this is his destiny, to be ridiculed until his death but while dealing with a scroll his grandma left him, Gon gets the harem system.Name:Level:Skills:Conquered women:Potential women:The system gives him a new life and guides him to become the most powerful mage but of course this comes with enemies who Gon has to fight.This book is rated 18 because it contains lots of lemonsThere's NTR, there might be yuri.

“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.