Pokemon - A real story - Chapter 845: Ralts

“The civilians here are not simple, they are cunning, they are greedy, they are tyrannical.”

“The nobles here are not noble, they are selfish, they are arrogant, they are insidious.”

“I used to be angry about this, but now I pity them. This is a dark world. Since they were born, they have not had the opportunity to choose another life. Now it is up to me to give them.”

“I will bring food and clothing to them, and then they will have morality. I will bring comfort to them, and then they will have faith. I am a traveler from a distant world, and I will bring the fire of civilization to In this dark and wild place, I know I am doing the right thing, eradicating famine, driving out disease, suppressing crime, ending war, and giving anyone who wants a change a second chance.”

“Then, kill all those idiots who are shameless.”

- Description from novelbuddy

He Bai won the lottery, became rich, and reached the pinnacle of life. Then, he inadvertently took a picture of the Film Emperor Di Qiuhe being killed. And after reporting this case to the police, he was reborn in a midst of confusion.

He Bai: I don’t have any horrible relatives to abuse. Why was I reborn?

Di Qiuhe: But I do.

He Bai: I also haven’t been betrayed or harmed by anyone. Why was I reborn?

Di Qiuhe: But I have.

He Bai: I just want to have some money to live freely and eat well. I already achieved that goal, so why was I reborn?

Di Qiuhe: I have money, but don’t live freely or well.

He Bai angrily flips the table: So what’s the use of my rebirth! Just to make me suffer again?!

Di Qiuhe (Holding and Touching He Bai): Be my lover, you’re only responsible for eating “lollipops,” you won’t eat any bitterness.

He Bai: Leave!

A young man that was always cautious with his life ended up dying in the most random way possible, buried by an avalanche.

As he died, within his last moments, he heard several mechanical voices resonating inside of his head, and he was granted many wishes in the form of Skills, Fortunes, and a new Body.

Now, reborn as an Ice Dragon, he is thrown into a world of fantasy that seems way too much like Norse Mythology named Yggdrasil, which is also, somehow, a Cultivation World?

What a weird mashup of concepts!

Accompany him as he explores this world, survives against the deadly monsters that roam this world, and fights to find a place to belong to, and a purpose to this new life.

However, he is not the only Reincarnated who was given wishes, and soon enough, the world he was thrown into will be engulfed in complete chaos.

“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.