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... ing with might.

It was a cascade of colours, imbuing a solace as raindrops fell to the ground.

In that explosive nature of the streaming beams, a figure warped through the air, red flames pouring out of her body as she escaped the hellbent beams of lava that exploded on impact.

Her movement was swift and untraceable with the naked eye, yet a female floated a distance away. Her gaze darted about as she traced her movements like a high-vision camera.

Her lips curled ...

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“Everyone is a protagonist of their own story and hero of their own struggles.”

.............................

It all began with a nightmare…..

A nightmare where corpses were strewn across the vast land and blood flowed like a river all around.

Roy, a normal 20-year-old college student filled with hope and aspirations, found his world breaking apart, just a day after he had a terrible nightmare.

The very next day, Roy died in an unfortunate train accident and reopened his eyes in the world of the modern fantasy book he had read.

Dawn Of Legend.

A world filled with myths, legends, and dangers lurking all around.

Behind the beautiful world filled with opportunities lies a grim prospect of destruction threatening the stability and peace of the current generation.

And in such a world, he woke up in the body of an extra called Lucas whose existence seemed to be quite negligible as there was no mention of a character named Lucas.

He did not know whether this man even survived the first arc or did he even reach the academy safely.

Since most of the details are omitted, it would not surprise him if this man had died somewhere in the beginning or middle of the plot.

Finding himself in the world of the novel, countless questions came to his mind.

Is this transmigration just a mere coincidence, or are there any external factors involved in it?

Does the world have some plans for him, or is he some kind of pawn who could be disposed of, when he becomes worthless?

And the most important thing, will the future events follow as mentioned in the novel? Can a mere rabbit survive in a den filled with wolves?

Roy, who had read countless novels, knew better than anyone else that there would surely be some sort of butterfly effort that might change the plot, and the world which needs to be saved by the protagonist might be destroyed due to a change in plot.

No… No….Let's think about unpleasant things later.

As long as I can survive and gain a stable footing, I can work out something.

Roy, who was now Lucas, decided to give his all to survive in this harsh world and get stronger so that he would not get swept away by the adversaries that the world was going to face in the future.

With fierce tenacity and grit to live, Lucas strides ahead, trying his best to avoid the bleak prospect of the world ending and along the journey, searching for the secrets behind his transmigration, if there are any.

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Samul is a novel author. He enjoys writing novels and even reading other's works as well. But that's just it. Reading and writing novels. Those are the only things Samuel enjoyed in his whole life.

His parents were well-off and he didn't need to find a job to feed himself. Everything going well for him until he died, his health was worsening as the day went by.

Before he died he tried to write a thank you letter to his parents but he couldn't do that too.

The next thing he knows he wakes up in the world that he created, [Blade Of Destiny]. However, instead of transmigrating into the body of the main character or even a side character, the boy became an extra called Lucas Darkheart.

Who is Lucas Darkheat? No Idea! He's just an Extra in the novel! ...Or is he just an Extra?

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“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.