MTL - Virtual Evolution - Chapter 19 World Insight and Strengthening

In the most popular 3D keyboard online game “Tomorrow”, an ordinary player, Zhang Zhiyin has a less common hobby–that is to visit Dr. Y, the ultimate boss – giving him gifts and hugs.

“Everyone deserves a happy ending, don’t they?”…In the brutal fantasy RPG Fall of Ares, saving the world came at a cruel price — the deaths of every heroine the player had grown to love. No matter how skilled you were, their sacrifices were inevitable. The game warned you not to get attached.But one young man did.After beating the game and lamenting their tragic fates, he wakes up in its world — reborn as an extra, armed with one mission from a mysterious system:[Change their endings. Let them live.]Now enrolled at Mysteria Academy alongside the heroines doomed to die, he must rewrite fate itself. For every girl he saves, he’s rewarded. But the world resists change. Calamities draw closer. The true enemy — the Children of the Sky — are watching.And one of the heroines… remembers it all.

Every year, the Trial World summons chosen humans to face its brutal tests—deadly monsters, unpredictable trials, and the ever-approaching calamity that threatens to wipe out entire worlds. Only by defeating the Demon God can a minor world ascend and escape destruction.Leon Kael, born into a renowned family, awakens a Divine Talent on the day of his summoning—an ability that makes him stronger with every attack he delivers. Power isn't gifted freely in the Trial World. It's earned, carved out in blood, sweat, and unrelenting battle.Armed with this mysterious talent and the drive to protect everything he holds dear, Leon steps into the world of trials where every strike brings him closer to overwhelming strength. The path ahead is paved with bloodshed, glory, and the roar of defiance.If the gods must be attacked to survive—then let them bleed.

“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.