Bored Gamer in Other Worlds - Chapter 761 A Message

“I don't have enough money or power right now, but I will definitely find a way to bring them all to their knees! I'll make them all beg!” She hissed, shaking with anger and frustration. “I will do everything, anything… to make them all regret… even if I have to sell my soul to the devil!” She said with determination flashing in her beautiful eyes.

The man smirked. He lifted his fingers and tucked some errant strands of her slightly mussed up hair behind her ear. “Be careful what you wish for, Miss. A certain devil here might really fulfil your wish and claim your soul in exchange.”

“If that devil is really here, do introduce him to me, handsome. I would like to make a deal with him.” Eva drawled out, smirking back at him.

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[Infinite Regression Genre] In any fantasy novel, regression is a guaranteed cheat key!What if it’s the ability of [Infinite Regression]?There’d be no need to worry about any bad endings. After all, the protagonist would eventually reach a happy ending.“Cheat key, my foot.”I tried it myself just to find out otherwise.The myths of regressors’ success depicted in all those novels are actually fake…It was all just vile propaganda!“This run is doomed too.”This is not a story of success; it’s a tale on the aftermath of failures.Thus begins the heartfelt documentary of a man with 1183 runs of experience!

The Nine Tribulations Immortal Venerable is reborn in the city, sweeping away contemporary enemies.In front of me, brothers stand. Enemies kneel. Foes lie down.Women, any pose is OK.

“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.