Crown Of Hearts - Chapter 11: You like him

Lucien was chosen by the God of Gamblers to participate in the Heaven’s Gate Project. Their goal was to help save a dying world from destruction, and ensure that it wouldn’t be destroyed a second time.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go according to the God's plan. Lucien’s soul was heavily injured during the soul transfer and on the verge of collapse. Having no other alternative, the God of Gamblers was forced to take yet another gamble to preserve his chosen candidate’s soul and help him find a new vessel.

As if arranged by Fate itself, Lucien’s soul wandered into the world of Solais until it merged with the dead body of a newborn baby that was left to float down a river. With his new identity as Lux, the boy realized that even with the blessings given to him by the Gods, saving a world was not an easy matter.

In a world of Swords and Magic, where adventures run wild and free… the Legendary Saga of an abandoned Prince is about to begin!

Have you ever wished you exactly knew how to accomplish your dreams? Not feeling the slightest doubt anymore? Being aware at any time how every choice, action and decision of yours affects your future?

Never underestimate the guy who has so much Mana it should kill him...Nathaniel's bus ride was supposed to be just another boring commute. But now, he, 23 fellow passengers, and a corgi named Biscuit are stuck in a “Hell difficulty” tutorial, battling monsters and leveling up.Easy difficulty, anyone can handle. Normal difficulty, you've got to put up a fight to get by. Hard difficulty is where only the tough ones last. And Hell? That's where you have to be a bit out of your mind!With his terrifying talent for mana manipulation, Nathaniel decides to invest every stat point into mana. Attribute imbalance be damned. It will either kill him before the monsters and his enemies can, or turn him into one of the most powerful beings within the system.

“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.