Doomsday: I Obtained A Fallen Angel Pet At The Start Of The Game - Chapter 107 - Crazy Pulling Monsters, Shocking the Two Large Guilds!

Max wanted to be a [Baker].

Settle down, bake stuff, and enjoy life.

The gods, however, ruined that dream. Given [Baker] and a black skill, he is now running for his life, trying to grow strong enough to return home.

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A gigantic mouth appeared in the sky and swallowed the entire Earth, scattering the shattered fragments everywhere.“Welcome to the Myriad Heavenly Hunting Grounds, your talent is the Lord's Cottage.”Earthlings received the developmental ability called Lord's Cottage, beginning their struggle for survival in the Myriad Heavenly Hunting Grounds.Fang Jie, holding the initial item 'Faction Conversion Command', gently tapped on the undead faction. Starting with the undead fission talent, he could make his subordinate undead split and increase in value, and the talent could also be upgraded.

There is a kind of person in the world who is indifferent, cool, arrogant, and especially a bit petty. There is also a kind of person who is lazy, gentle, considerate, and even adeptly flirts with girls. When the male god completed a shocking 360 transformation from the former to the latter, Tang Xia’s first reaction was…is this a fantasy world?

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.