Hyperdimensional Universe: I have Three Thousand Ultimate Talents - Chapter 14 - : Four Unique Skills, Slaying the Grandmaster

The disabled son-in-law, Qin Yi, endured endless humiliation and scolding, believing his life would be bound to a wheelchair. However, unexpectedly, he obtained the Eye of Righteous and Evil, leading to a powerful rise.Eye of Righteous and Evil: One glance to slaughter all beings, another to pity all existence. When he stood up, it was destined that everyone would have to bow at his feet.

Heed my call! O’ Dragon of Eternal Sin, the Progressive Disaster, the Forerunner, the Land of Eternal Peace, the Flames of Soul Burning, He Who Owns The Deep Soul, the Sound of Origin, the First Cause of All Things, the Principle of Circles… o’ great Negary, your servant calls for your return!

They called the Vorrakyns Dragon Riders, but their legacy has crumbled into dust. For centuries, no true Dragon has answered their call.Vacuse Vorrakyn was born into a dying legacy: once-mighty, now feared and cast to the Empire’s edge.A runt. A bastard. Yet he served his family with fierce loyalty, only to be betrayed by the father he once swore to obey. Vacuse died a pawn... a sacrifice to the forbidden magic to call a true Dragon.Discarded like worthless trash.Now, he’s back.Reborn at six, memories of betrayal burning sharp and anger raging in his veins. This time, he’s here to claim what was stolen and everything they denied him.Armed with forbidden knowledge of the Dragon Pathway and the secrets to bond with a legendary beast, Vacuse is determined to rebuild the family legacy—on his own terms.

“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.