MTL - Open the Simple Mode After Wearing the Book - Chapter 36 rival

Koi Niles has always been alone. Quiet halls and empty lunchtimes are his familiar companions. Grades matter to him; they’re his way out.Ashley Miller owns the school corridors. Captain of the ice hockey team, confident smile, and a name everyone knows. When a class project pairs them together, Connor sees a chance. But Ashley disappears, leaving Connor to carry the weight.Days later, under the harsh lights of Connor’s part-time job, Ashley returns. This time, it’s different. He stands up for Connor, turns the tide against the bullies. A simple act of kindness that feels new and warm.They share moments—short walks, brief talks, the understanding of two worlds colliding. Friendship grows where none was before.But Ashley holds a secret behind those bright eyes. One evening, worry leads Connor to Ashley’s door. What he discovers there changes everything he thought he knew.

This book is about baby-making.

In a world where the interstellar era has brought both promise and disappointment, Michael Fang dreams of becoming a Lord in the mysterious realm.

He longs to explore ancient ruins of fallen civilizations and build a territory loved and supported by his subjects.
But his aspirations are shattered when he realizes that he is nothing special and just an ordinary boy in a world full of heavenly prodigies.

That is until he stumbles upon the Gate leading to the Origin Expanse, a mysterious realm that promises to change everything he thought he knew about himself and his destiny.

With newfound power and unwavering determination, Michael vows to turn his misfortune into opportunity, no matter how perilous the path is.

"Watch, and witness as I extract everything!"

Follow Michael Fang on his journey through the Origin Expanse as he battles through obstacles and enemies to achieve his dreams and become the Supreme Lord he was always meant to be.

“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.