MTL - The Zombies Are Coming But I’m Laying Down At Home - Chapter 114 114th

Long ago a great calamity struck the earth, destroying much of it and merging what remained with pieces of other worlds.

With these worlds came Aether, a new form of energy that can allow one to transcend the bounds of normal mortality and human limitations.

In a world where humans absorb the essence of aether beasts to gain power, Aiden Hawke joins the class of humans known as arcanists, people who defeat aether beasts and absorb their essence into cores they forge within themselves, and who infuse themselves with the aether that permeates the world around them to increase the power of their body and mind.

However, unlike most, Aiden will find that he holds a unique gift and that his journey as an arcanist will not be so simple.

When the Unity Trials first began and Neve was granted a system along with the rest of humanity, she sincerely hoped she would be among the first to die.Death eluded her, though, so, until her time came, she reluctantly settled into the role of a healer. One day, she and a group of players ventured into the realm of the Final Challenge, a strange, otherworldly dungeon that would give humanity a ten-year resting period if they completed it. But, although death eluded her, it found all of her allies.Now, with no one to rely on and a burning desire for revenge, Neve must become stronger if she hopes to avenge them.How exactly can she do so, however, when she is only a healer?A survival GL adventure story!

Jun Wu Xiao = Almighty > author. The author accepts to design adventures for Him. So this work will never end, one adventure will lead to another (except the first one because of an error). If you want to read a book that will never end, then read this. Thank you!

“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.