MTL - Metropolitan System - Chapter 2014 Entering the immortal

NOTE: cover art is a commission done by Ripcorez a fellow author on here and amazing artist. If you like his work, don’t hesitate to reach out to him with a request for a commission of your own

Samuel Foster would be turning 18 in two weeks. He grew up in a fairly normal low case family home with his parents and two younger siblings. The thing out of the ordinary was he knew for as long as he could remember he would be getting married at 18 to a girl he never had met before due to a promise his family had made.

Lena Scarlet, Princess Scarlet was feared by many, respected and loved by everyone near her. Deadly as she was calm, her one annoyance in life was the arranged married he father decided upon before she was born. Being fiercely independent and trained to protect herself, she never felt the need for a relationship or marriage as she fully capable of taking care of all her needs.

However, a promise was a promise and whether either of them liked it or not, their parents were at least going to force them to live together before calling the wedding off.

Please give the book a chance. I’m not the greatest of synopsis writers, as I am sure some of you can tell and the book may be slow at first due to the setup and lead in. But I promise it will getting more interesting as it goes along.

Scene excerpt from the story:

“You didn’t happen to think it was important to tell before now?! The princess was furious with the other woman.

“I..” She paused for a second to swallow,

“I never thought that it would come down to this. I promise though that they wouldn’t do anything terrible.”

“They said the same thing to my father.. but they were wrong. I don’t trust anyone’s word.” The princess replied standing up. The more her anger rose, the darker her eyes got.

“You should just be fortunate that I am not my father. Do you know what he did when faced with a similar situation?” with no reply, she continued

“He killed almost all of them. You could say it was a massacre. Me, I won’t got that far, but if anything happens to him, I will personally kill the person who touches him.”

[Ding! Sorceress Beauty Merlin from Camelot has added you to a chat group full of beautiful maidens!][Ding! You've claimed the title of Supreme Demon Lord!][Ding! Fairy Queen Ophelia tagged you in a post!][Ding! Medusa sent you some of her spicy videos, shut your blinds before watching!][Ding! Your dog has been transformed into the Ancient Black Dragon Veligrpyh!]James Kang, once the youngest heir to the multi-trillion-dollar Hart Global Corporation, has everything anyone could dream of: money, luxury, and freedom. But his life is hollow—friends are fake, family distant, and his days are a blur of shallow extravagance.One late, lonely night, James gets a notification:[Congratulations! You have been added to the Ancient Multiverse Chatroom!]Thinking it's some cringy online role-playing game, he decides to entertain himself and plays along, proclaiming himself the “Supreme Demon Lord.”The group, filled with titles like:[Princess of the Azure Seas][Dragon Emperor of Ashvale][Goblin Slayer Supreme][High Priestess of the Sun][Fafnir, the Pet Wyvern]And they seemed hilariously invested in their roles.What starts as a joke takes a bizarre turn.The more James participates, the more he notices strange phenomena: glowing runes on his skin, magic artifacts materializing from nowhere, an elder dragon in his garage, and a sudden mastery of dark magic.Things escalate when a private group chat, run by a perverted female King Arthur, invites him to [The Table of Beauties], a circle of god-tier roleplayers… or so he thinks.Soon, James learns the truth.The chat is an interdimensional nexus connecting real worlds where magic, legends, and gods exist. His casual banter and fake roleplay have turned him into a living, breathing Demon Lord, complete with a castle in Hell, loyal monster armies, and reality-warping powers.To make matters even crazier, his “friends” start visiting Earth, and they’re nothing like he imagined!

Xu Youyou, daughter of the Xu family who had been sent to the countryside to nurse her health years ago, had returned to uphold the marriage promise with the Lin family. On the eve of her wedding, the groom escaped abroad in search of his dream girl. The crowd gasped and watched on excitedly.

Xu Youyou’s only comment was, “Okay.” The next instant, her fair hands had seized the collar of a man’s shirt as she asked sweetly, “Mr. Mo, can you marry me?” The business tycoon, Mo Shenbai, was aloof, abstinent, mysterious, and kept a low profile. Having dominated the challenging business industry for ten years, no media was bold enough to post a picture of him, and no woman was able to catch his eye.

Everyone said that Mo Shenbai’s marriage with Xu Youyou was only a contract, and they would surely divorce after a year. Xu Youyou was happily reading these rumors about her, but then she noticed something was off, She didn’t have to pay for her shopping, nor choose her food, and everyone would ardently greet her wherever she went, calling her “Mrs. Xu.” Then, Mo Shenbai’s dream girl came back, and Xu Youyou’s ex-fiance confessed, “Youyou, only my love for you is true.

Come back to me. I won’t dislike you.” Before Xu Youyou could answer him, the domineering man embraced her and said in a low and seductive voice, “Baby, didn’t you tell him that you already have a proof of our love in here?” He placed his warm hand on her flat tummy. Xu Youyou blushed, and the ex-fiance’s eyes turned red…

“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.