The Game of Life - Chapter 83 - 82: Kung Pao Chicken

Setting in the fictional world of Gaia, where special individuals can awaken certain powers within their soul. They are called Arcana Masters.

Some awaken beasts, some awaken weapons, while some awaken the power of plants.

Some people train to become stronger so that they have the power to protect loved ones, some wish to use it for revenge, some wish to live longer, while some want to be free and use their power however they wish.

Yet, there exists a clan, where the descendants only exist to grant death to others so that life and death remain balanced.

Follow the journey of Azrael Garcia, the heir of the cursed clan of Death, as he forms friendships, facing betrayals, meeting love, and cutting down the enemies in the process.

A person's perspective plays a vital role in developing one's personality. What happens when you realize the world you live in is the same as a Novel.

Zero Elea gets a Skill called Parallel Memory which allowed him to get the memory of his alternative self of a different universe.

He realizes that the world he lives in is similar to the novel he used to read in his alternative world. The world will face catastrophe in the future but there is no need to worry as there is a main character working hard to save the world.

And what about me? I am but a mob character.

My current mom, who became my stepmom after taking me in when I lost my parents, and my younger sisters are just too pervertedRomance | Masochist | Harem | Incest | Oyakodon | SMUT | R18 | Threesome | Slave

“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.