The Adventurous Gamer Ninja - Daichi Hekima - Chapter 313: A potential prey for Akatsuki

The dawn era after the end of the half century has gradually rebuilt the order, abandoned civilization, and is full of undivided violence and desire.
The noble and powerful pioneers are in charge of the city, and the evil and mad plagues are in the wilderness.
Pure human beings who cannot mutate are the weakest, dominated by the rulers of the pioneers, and are not as good as animals in the wilderness.
A purely humanized young man with a worldly experience has quietly entered the WTO, holding a three-foot long knife and a long-distance desire to boil in the world of purgatory. From the nameless name to the sorrow of the Supreme Court, the name of the black ride is resounding!

- Description from Uukanshu (translated)

The world is terrorized by the powerful Black Witch who has been sealed in the moon. Every ten years, the night of Hexennacht arrives and a chosen witch must battle the Black Witch in hopes of finally defeating her.

As the current decade’s Hexennacht approaches, a mysterious girl named Kagami Kagami arrives and meets Horinouchi Mitsuru, the daughter of the previous Hexennacht representative.

It takes place between Kyoukai Senjou no Horizon and the City Series, two other series by the author.

Argon Raze, the best swordsman of the continent. He was dubbed the Sword Saint due to his unparalleled skills with the sword. He lived a life of endless victories in duels and challenges. However, all that came to an end when he challenged a young mage. He lost his winning streak and his life at the hands of this young mage.Seemingly ready to accept his death, he found himself inside an unknown forest after being swallowed by an immense light. He was still alive, he realized. Although, he also realized he wasn't the same Argon Raze as before.Feel free to support me on Paypal or Patreon with five or more chapters ahead.

“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.