Undying Life - Chapter 890 - : The Realm of Samsara

One of the six people called heroes, Raid, fought alone against the Devil, and ended up dead.

After meeting with a suspicious god, he woke up again and found out he has born again as a baby.

Moreover, as a daughter of his former companions.

In order to regain his former power, Raid/Nicole has to go through a life of hardships to reach the ideal he aims for.

One morning after being struck by lightning, Ye Wenxuan inexplicably gained the superpower of being able to generate electricity.

If he jammed his finger into one of the generator terminals in an electricity power plant, he could provide a year’s worth of power for 3 Tier 1 cities simultaneously, receiving the name “the mobile nuclear power plant.”

The country’s electrical company’s boss held his hand, speaking emotionally: “Comrade ah, the country’s future electrical development will all depend on you!”

Ye Wenxuan: WTF

Later, the “mobile nuclear power plant” was dispatched to be a bodyguard for a local tyrant.

Xing Yuan coldly said: “Just now did you or did you not electrocute me?”

Ye Wenxuan pointed to the heavens and swore: “I am an honorable employee, how could it be possible for me to make a move on my employer!”

Later on…

he made a move.

- Description from Novelupdates

In the far future humanity is threatened by monstrous beings called kaiju now humans have expanded across the galaxy with the development of new techniques and fleets of mechs.Alto a young boy with dreams of becoming a great mech pilot is forced to be a mech designer. He finds a strange technology that opens his eyes to the vast secrets of the galaxy, now with a new purpose Alto must become something the world has never seen before.A/N: Just wanna do a good sci-fi book

“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.