I Quit Being The Villain - Chapter 151 World

The white lotus, a mysterious artifact rumored to contain the very secrets of the soul, granted its wielder otherworldly power. Countless powerful Magi from all around the universe waged an epic battle over it. When the dust settled from their fierce clash, the artifact disappeared, awaiting to be inherited by one with great destiny.

Adam dreamed of breaking free from the grip of poverty, yearning for a life of riches and comfort. Yet, in a world ruled by arcane spellcasters, achieving such a dream meant becoming one himself. However, learning magic was an expensive aspiration. Not only did it require talent, but also vast resources.

But one day everything changed when he stumbled upon a seemingly ordinary white lotus…

Lumberling, a 42-year-old civil engineer, grew numb to the monotonous rhythm of modern life. Hoping to rekindle his sense of wonder, he set out on a solitary nature trip, only to stumble upon an ancient, forgotten pyramid. A strange red light burst forth, killing him instantly… and binding itself to his soul.Cast adrift in the void, his soul found no rest, until he awoke in the body of a young foot soldier, bleeding and broken on a war-torn battlefield in a world not his own.Determined not to die again, Lumberling fights to survive in this brutal new realm where knights clash with monsters, kingdoms rise and fall, and mysterious powers shape the fate of nations.Armed with a strange ability to devour the essence of those he slays, he begins to carve out a new path, one forged by blood, strength, and sheer will.But power alone may not be enough. In a world where danger lurks in every shadow, and ancient forces stir in the dark, can a lost soul rise above fate… or will he be consumed by the very essence he seeks to control?

Upon waking up from the dream, Josie traveled from the 21st century to Chicago in 1943, becoming a poor boy wandering the streets.

World War II? For Josie, who is still underage, it is too far away.

As an orphan, how he can survive in this age is the most important thing.

Fortunately, he has a plane trading system. In this era, being a master of time and space can make a good life if you think about it.

However, a few months later, Josie, whose life had just improved a little, looked at Captain America, who was singing and dancing with a group of girls on the stage of the war fundraising benefit performance, and fell silent.

It’s over, Barbie Q is over.

This is Marvel!

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.