MTL - Marvel’s Disassembler - ~ Delayed for another day...

Zorian is a teenage mage of humble birth and slightly above-average skill, attending his third year of education at Cyoria’s magical academy.

He is a driven and irritable young man, consumed by a desire to ensure his own future and free himself of the influence of his family, whom he resents for favoring his brothers over him. Consequently, he has no time for pointless distractions or paying attention to other people’s problems.

As it happens, time is something he is about to get plenty of. On the eve of the Cyoria’s annual summer festival, he is killed and brought back to the beginning of the month, just before he was about to take a train to Cyoria.

Suddenly trapped in a time loop with no clear end or exit, Zorian will have to look both within and without to unravel the mystery before him. And he does have to unravel it, for the time loop hadn’t been made for his sake and dangers lurk everywhere…

Repetition is the mother of learning, but Zorian will have to first make sure he survives to try again — in a world of magic, even a time traveler isn’t safe from those who wish him ill.

A generation's mighty and most powerful expert died mysteriously and reincarnated without any memories on a small planet far away from the Cultivation World.

This small planet was earth.

Five thousand years ago, a great calamity descended on earth. Countless Spatial Cracks appeared in the sky and beasts invaded. After hundreds of years of fighting, humans discovered they could awaken a battle spirit that can help them raise their strength and grant them the abilities that were simply unimaginable for humans before.

Qin Feng also awakens his battle spirit but unfortunately, it was swallowed by his own birthmark, The Infinity Symbol.

This was just the beginning of the mysteries that surrounded him like invisible specks of dust. He soon discovered that the 'Infinity Symbol' was actually not his birthmark but something mysterious from another world.

The Infinity Symbol helped him awaken a Divine Battle Spirit and granted him a Nameless Cultivation Technique that was beyond the world's limit.

He also discovered that he could not die! Every time, he was killed, he returned back in time with the memories of what is going to happen in the future.

Soon after awakening the Divine Battle Spirit, a mysterious beautiful lady stepped into his life and told him that he does not belong to the earth. He was actually the reincarnation of someone called 'KING'.

The mysteries that surrounded him like the invisible specks of dust started to come on the surface from the day of his awakening, revealing many secrets to him.

The best actor was shooting a doomsday movie when he suddenly transmigrated to a real doomsday world and became Aon Flearov, a young man with a huge debt and a blood-sucking family.What does one do in the apocalypse?Of course, shoot variety shows, live streams, do ads, act in movies, hold concerts and fan meetings—The whole showbiz world was placed in real apocalypses, and Aon, a newly-debuted doomsday star, was thrown to a random variety show to fight zombies!It was at this desperate moment that Aon awakened a superpower—A system.DING! [Heyo, dad, your son is online~]Aon: [Son, are you a farming system? A counterattack system? A pay-to-win system?? Anything will do!]The system instantly burst into tears: [B-but dad, I'm a superstar system!]And so, in a doomsday dating variety show:The system picked and chose a few “cabbages” seriously:[Dad, do you want to find me a zombie step mom or an alien step dad? Old or young? One, two, three, or four?]In a doomsday gourmet show:The system handed a frying pan, spatula, guitar, piano:[Go, dad! I want a stir-fry zombie brain, alien omakase, mutated beast AYCE, spirit plant pancakes— ]In a doomsday idol survival show:The system looked at the zombies and aliens crying on their knees, begging for mercy:[Dad! They're all moved by your singing! They want an encore!][Dad! After you do the zombie dance, the zombies collectively change their race's name!]Doing part-time jobs in the eternal sun apocalypse, camping in a natural disaster doomsday, living with aliens, styling zombies in Doomsday Supermodel, turning into plants and fighting zombies, fighting against fellow doomsday celebrities in Doomsday Survival championships—Here, there are various shows you can and can't imagine. Name one, and it will come true.#An actor who cannot become a superstar isn't a good doomsday survivor#The three no:No R18No haremNo BL/Yuri— no bullying the author!PS: This novel is written by the author's cat

“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.