Death… And Me - Chapter 11 - Moving Out

A huge disaster [Dark Game] sweeping across the multiverse has come.

When all the players in the game die, the entire civilization will be destroyed together.

Zhang Feng took the last artifact of mankind and was reborn from the future before the beginning of the dark game.

First of all, the first step is to start the game with a life of 100 years, and extract the SSS-level talent [Almighty Power].

The journey to the gods begins here!

- Description from novelbuddy

“I am a benevolent god. If you worship me well, maybe I will save you… from the calamities I send.”Zayne was just an ordinary guy, when he was picked through a random draw to become a host of the God System. Having accepted the offer - could that even be considered a choice, when his soul would have been exterminated otherwise? - he was transported to a different world, tasked with gaining believers and growing his cult, earning points from their faith. Once he gained enough believers and points, he would be able to rise to a higher position in the Pantheon…However.A ‘life’ as a deity turned out to be far less glorious than he would have thought. Centuries later, he is still stuck in his first world. Fulfilling prayers day in and day out, as a mere consciousness floating in nothingness, alone with the system. He cannot rank up, he cannot move on, and he cannot even vent his frustration well, because he’s always short on points!And his believers are not even loyal, still worshiping other gods as well!In a moment of distraction, he makes a mistake, which initiates his descent.Not wanting to waste the points he has already spent, Zayne decides to wander the world for a while, posing as his own prophet, using this opportunity to spread his faith… And more importantly, vent all his pent-up anger, and have fun along the way!Randomly doing whatever he wants, he accidentally discovers a path he could take as a god: sending calamities, and then rescuing people from them - of course as long as they pray!And so his journey to the top finally begins.

This is a tale that distorts the scenario of an otome game.An orphan girl named Alicia is attacked by a woman trying to steal her body to become the “heroine”. From the fragmentary knowledge she acquires, Alicia learns that this world is the stage of an “otome game” in a “world of sword and magic”.Having learned the truth from the knowledge she obtained, the immature Alicia dismisses the otome game as “nonsense” and runs away from the orphanage to escape the fate of the “heroine”.A villainess aims to take her life. A fake heroine appears. Alicia trains herself using the fragmentary knowledge she has gained in order to survive, growing into the “Strongest Assassin” that is feared by both the Thieves’ Guild and the Assassins’ Guild.

“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.