The Demon King Seems to Conquer the World - Chapter 266: Noble Captive

Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. In the current world, only these three realms are known to be achievable. Nascent Soul is but a legend and the realms above it lost to the the long river of time. The modern era is known as Cultivation Civilization, a balance of power and civility, excess and moderation. While cultivation remains a secret practice, it has long since exposed itself to the mundane world, quietly intertwined with each facet of society. While the world appears to be at peace, what lies underneath is a conflict between human, cultivator, and demon, brewing for ages and waiting to implode. Yet in the wake of humanity’s rapid industrialization, qi—and consequently cultivation—is dying.

“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.

The Strongest Magic meets the Mightiest Mecha.

I have stolen Golden Mechas from the deepest vaults of the most tightly guarded fortresses in the world.

I have personally destroyed more armies than the top three superpowers have in the span of the Absolute War - combined.

I burned down the terrorist megacity of Habon.

I was expelled from the Union of Heroes at a younger age than people are allowed in.

I have talked to Ancient Gods, loved women, and devoured mechas that would make superpowers cringe in fear.

I have faced demons head on in moonless nights others fear to speak of during the day.

I am deified in a thousand cultures, and labelled as the devil incarnate in the rest.

I am the Mecha Emperor.

You may have heard of me.

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Excerpt from Chapter 1

This is where it all began.

A junkyard.

Oh no, this isn't your clean, mechas-only junkyard that was the 'starting point' of many mecha geniuses out there.

I have seen and heard my share of rags-to-riches stories, and many of them claimed that they had started from 'junkyards' and slowly grew to be where they were right now.

From Zero to Hero, they declared.

You can do it too, they said.

As long as you work hard, everything is possible, they claimed.

I call bullshit.

Life doesn't work like that.

What happens when you really want to protect someone but feel weak?Will you let it all consumme you? Or will you fight for it.Watch as insanity consumes our main character Bael as he works his fucking body out to protect those who are dear to him.(A/N: Please show support for more!)