The Obsessive Tycoon Claims the Deserted Heiress - Chapter 9 - 00: First Encounter

So to begin, this is technically a skyrim fanfic.Why isn't it in the fan-fics then?Simple! It's based on a game and I don't feel that counts as a fan-fic.Second, I've read like a few skyrim stories here lately. I liked them, as a bethesda fan boy... Well, now I need to take a crack at it. I literally start a new game of skyrim every new year. Its my tradition, so I felt I had to do this.If its bad, ah well. If its good, GREAT! Overall though, I feel we need more skyrim based stories or fan-fics. It has the perfect setting for the transmigration genre. Now read at your own risk.

It is said that you shouldn't meet your heroes. Gehaldirah, a high elf of royal bloodline didn't have to meet the realm lord of High Heaven before he became disillusioned.

His admiration for the paragon of the high elf race turned into hatred when he got some damning knowledge about why demons kept attacking his home and looting the sacred tree of life. His hatred for the realm lord turned to self-hatred for his weakness and mediocrity.

Gehaldirah had a moment of introspection. He isn't at the bottom of the ladder in this strength-based hierarchy. He is a king of law, but that apparently isn't enough to guarantee your fate. His strength is also mediocre because it was granted to him because of his bloodline.

He determined he had to change himself. He has to become better. He concocted a plan that is one part genius and one part greed. His plan for reincarnation led him to the trial of heaven that occurs every origin cycle. He needed Origin essence so he participated in the trial.

He got more than he wanted from the trial. His plan for reincarnation would be a success after some adjustments. But now he has a different aim. He won't aim for just the realm lord. The realm lord has control of the High Heaven Realm. That isn't enough for Geraldirah anymore.

He became greedier. He has his sight set on the movers and shakers of the Void Universe. Only the power to subvert the will of World Gods will do. The plan to create LEGION, the ultimate organism was then hatched. If one person cannot achieve something, what about a multitude of them?

His journey will not be easy. He will have to overcome Celestials and their Celestial Supreme, Gods and their GodKings, Demon kings and their Demon gods. The Void Universe is full of obstacles that will like nothing more than to put an end to his path. It is not that they hate him. They will oppose him simply because the era of conquest is coming. There are no friends in the era of conquest. It is everyone for themselves.

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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.

“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.