Fantasy: I Did Not Raise The Divine Beasts - Chapter 1317 - Lonely (1)

Waking up in a world of pirates as a Marine Captain, Danter Ashford has no desire to serve justice for bubbleheads. Instead, he sets his sights on something else-becoming a warlord in East Blue and ruling on his own terms.Step one: Build walls.Step two: Stockpile resources.Step three: Wait for the right moment.Then? Upend the world.---My update schedule is this,Sunday: Naruto, Monday: One Piece, Tuesday: Naruto, Wednesday: break day, Thursday: One Piece, Friday: Naruto, Saturday: One Piece.

Welcome to The Last Step – A Tale of Fate, Power, and the Unforgiven.In a world where magic defines one's worth, three souls walk a path toward an uncertain destiny—each bearing a power that can shape the fate of nations.Lucas, the God’s Chosen Sorcerer, wields divine magic that bends reality itself, blessed by forces beyond mortal comprehension. A shining beacon of hope—or a harbinger of destruction—his path is riddled with expectations he never asked for.Celia, the Queen of Curses, commands a power feared by even the strongest mages. She carries the weight of a past filled with whispers and condemnation, but where others see a curse, she sees the strength to carve her own future.Kaiser, the Unwanted Void, stands apart. Neither blessed nor cursed, he is the anomaly that should not exist. In a world that measures worth by magic, he is a shadow in the light—yet, the abyss within him holds something far greater than mere sorcery.Together, they are bound by fate yet divided by their own battles. As war brews and forgotten gods stir, the lines between hero and villain blur. In the end, their choices will decide more than just their own lives—they will determine the very foundation of their world.This is their journey. This is their Last Step.

Before her rebirth, Wei Luo was an innocent little girl.

“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.