Pokemon - A real story - Chapter 31: First Loss (Edited)

Luan Bednicker, the youngest son of the “Great House.”But… I have no blessings?“The Failure of the Lord of Blood and Iron”“The Fool of Bednicker”I wandered seeking a place to die, away from the clan’s contempt.But then…“You? You’re my disciple, you little shit.”The greatest of all time.The one unparalleled among men.The perfect superhuman.I became the youngest disciple of Baek Nogwang?

In an alternate world, the year is 1947, and as India steps into the dawn of its hard-won independence, an extraordinary twist of fate unfolds. A soul from the future, unexpectedly transported back in time, finds himself thrust into the highest office of the land, Prime Minister of a nation on the cusp of rebirth.What follows is a journey through the corridors of power, where betrayal lurks at every corner, and internal strife threatens to tear the fledgling nation apart. Faced with impossible choices, this modern mind must navigate a country marked by political intrigue, international pressures, and the weight of a people’s hopes.But beneath the surface lies a larger ambition, the vision of an Akhand Bharat, a united and unshakable India that rises from the ashes of its tragic past to forge a bold new future.As history begins to unravel and destiny is rewritten, the stakes grow ever higher. What will it take to unify a divided land and bring forth a nation powerful enough to redefine its place on the global stage? In a tale of courage, sacrifice, and the power of leadership, witness the birth of “A New India” unlike any before, a force to be reckoned with, ready to stand among the world’s greats.

She killed his wife, destroyed his reputation, and ran off with his son. 8 years later, she returned home with her genius son, who already had a fiancée. “Give me the child, or you can’t afford the price.”“A girl who eats meat and vegetables doesn’t suffer, if you want a child, find yourself a woman to give you one.”

“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.