My Blood Mage System - Chapter 7: The first practice

“If fate wants me to suffer, it should have picked someone else!” —Raven.Raven wakes up as the protagonist of his favorite novel. He knows the brutal storyline that makes grown men weep.The original protagonist endured it all, but Raven has no plans to play along.He has a system, but that broken thing has everything locked.He has knowledge of the plot, but no clue what twists the author hid beyond what he read.He has a choice to suffer like before or rewrite everything.The tragic twists? Fuck themThe heartbreaking losses? Skip themPointless sacrifices? Save themNo more misery for the sake of character growth.This time, he is writing his own legend and a story worth remembering!

What is worse than being the worst team in the world?

For Dave Richards that was a very easy but heartbreaking question to answer, a goalkeeper who performed poorly between the sticks, he was still available as a first-choice goalkeeper because Unique FC didn't have any other goalkeeper.

He was slow on his feet, couldn't jump properly and worst of all, he didn't know how to hold the ball properly.

The only way that Unique FC was able to survive taking in a massive goal-fest sometimes was because of the extra effort they put in their defence.

After a terrible match in which Dave wasn't able to make any saves and also made a lot of mistakes, he was seriously scolded by the managerial staff and almost received a beating from his angry teammates.

He got home sad and also angry at all those who told him he looked like his grandfather and would therefore inherit his goalkeeping skills.

He discovered a hidden door below his room and when he got down there the only thing he could see was a black box.

He found the box to be quite familiar and when he opened it the last thing he saw was a bright white light when the light was gone he could see something in his field of vision.

[ Welcome Dave ]

[ You have activated the Goalkeeping system ]

A female voice read out the messages.

This is a story about how an ordinary man who didn't know his place between the sticks went from nothing to pro.

“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.

I became a heroine who dies during the protagonist’s awakening event.