Shinji Matou at Your Service - Chapter 978: The Athanaton Ten Thousand

In this fantasy world, music and aether rules all. However, there is constant threat of demons and natural catastrophes. The most powerful men are musicians who use music, alchemy, and spells to safeguard their homes. A young man who just wants to find his father and know why his family was exiled, starts his journey of becoming musician – a journey that leads him to the crown of justice and glory.We are born of aether, grow under aether and die as aether. Awe of Aether! – Holy Code.

She conspires and provokes the most powerful young master in Beijing! They sign a contract and with his every call, she has to go anywhere and do anything his bidding. When their contract ends, she smirks and said, “I’ll take the money and you can leave. We don’t owe each other anything.”

He is Young Master Ya who rules Beijing. He controls the business empire during the day, and he is the strongest king at night. He is cold and women are merely playthings to him. With his power, the women he has eyes on have never been willing to leave him, yet she is an exception. She loves money, like all the previous women, but she is never shy of showing her greed. And he never realizes that he will ever grow a heart for such a promiscuous and cheap woman…

He points a gun straight at her heart. “Die with me, or accept my love—which one do you choose?” She pouts and turns around, before she pushes an adorable child into his arms. “Here, there’s your answer.”

“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.

In a parallel world filled with pet beasts, people tame, train, evolve, and trade beasts.