I Became a Gallery Newbie Beloved by Transcendents - Chapter 47: The Second Exchange Meeting (1)

Shishio stared at the beautiful girl in front of him, and he couldn’t look away. Her waist might be the narrowest waist that he had ever seen, and he was wondering how it felt to hug that waist. Finally, he made up his mind and decided to say hello to her, but suddenly…

[Target has been found!]

«Huh?»

[Welcome to Scumbag System!]

[The more woman you have, the more rewards you will receive!]

[As a starting gift, you have received «Japanese Food Cooking Mastery»!]

[As the first target has been found, you also receive 500 million yen on your back account!]

[The journey has only been started!]

[Work hard, young man!]

«???????»

Shishio frowned and said, «I refuse!» without hesitation, but after a while…

«I refuse!.. I really refuse!.. I really try hard to refuse!.. Sorry, I can’t refuse it…»

Shishio tried really hard, but he couldn’t…

***

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

“If magic is power, then I'll build my own.” - Adrian.When a genius tech developer dies from overworking, he awakens in a world ruled by magic, ancient empires, and mythical beasts.But unlike the natives who manipulate elemental mana, he is granted a mysterious technology system that lets him reconstruct modern and futuristic tech.Armed with the knowledge of his old world and this game-like system, he begins to revolutionize the magic world. But his rise threatens the very foundation of society, drawing the attention of kings, mages, and forbidden powers that ought not to be offended.As nations clash and secrets unfold, one question remains:Can technology coexist with magic… or will one destroy the other?

The Old Gods are gone. Lost and Forgotten, their honor shattered and their kingdoms broken by treachery.The Peace of the Myriad Heavens has been severed. And from the ashes of war and chaos, the Twin Towers of Babel have been created as a beacon of hope.Can Altair, a child born of the Old Gods whose name has long since been forgotten, survive, or will he be cast into the Nine Hells?***“So...” Arsene continued, enjoying his child's flush expression. “I've got a few things to teach you. What I'm about to give you is some peak wisdom. Think of it as my Ten Commandments: One, never trust a bitch with red hair. Trust me on this. Two, the pull-out game is not a real thing. She will get pregnant. Three—”“F-Father…”“ —Never get yourself more than one wife. It sounds fun. It is fun. But it's truly a nightmare. You better be writing this stuff down. This is some grade-A wisdom right here. Four.“...Please stop talking…” The Prince pleaded.“Shhhhh. Just let this happen. Four…Bro's before hoes isn't a thing. The hoes come first. Remember, Booty is more important than Wa— ”“STOP!!!!!”

“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.