Heir of Aurelian - Chapter 15 A Dark Day in the History of the Empire

I somehow managed to be reincarnated as a maid who monopolized the Emperor’s affection. In the end, she was killed by the Evil Empress through vicious means.‘Fortunately, I’m only five years old.’‘I still have a long way to go before the original work begins, so shouldn’t I just avoid the Emperor and Empress until then?’I thought so, but…“Lize, what did you say to the Emperor?”“I said that I support you.”The evil Empress who was supposed to kill me in the original story won’t leave me alone.“Truthfully, you like me much more than the Emperor, don’t you? Am I right?”Is the Empress trying to win me over?

Leon was your typical guy, perceived as weak in his school because his skills hadn't awakened, even though they usually did at the coming of age. He attended the prestigious Milham's Magic Knight Academy, where snagging the top spot meant automatic entry into the esteemed position of a Magic Knight in the country. Unfortunately, Leon found himself in the lower caste, labeled the most useless student. To top it off, he was tossed into a class that served as a sanctuary for oddballs and delinquents. Yet, he couldn't care less, as becoming a Magic Knight wasn't his goal.Everything shifted when he crossed paths with Shredica, a woman hell-bent on becoming a Magic Knight at any cost. Observing Leon's lack of ambition and his apparent detachment from the academy's pursuits, Shredica saw an opportunity. She decided to exploit him as a pawn in her ascent through the academy's hierarchy.Yet, unbeknownst to Shredica, Leon was not the complacent, unremarkable figure she presumed him to be.

The eternal night is coming, and the killing ground descends.Gods fall, and a hundred ghosts parade at night.You can stand in the forefront and announce the arrival of the era's tide to the world, or you can hide in the darkness and coldly observe the struggle of others to survive.Liberate your thoughts, embrace your destiny, this is the absolute real game, this is, Earth's Killing Field.

“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.