Seoul Object Story - Chapter 344: Orb or Desire (8)

Gu Nianshen had thought all along that he was raped by an older lady five years ago when he got really drunk at a nightclub. When he met a child who resembled him and Lin Yiqian, he carried the child in his arms.

Every drop of this family bloodline is stained with sin. They are the embodiment of contradiction; calm yet maniacal, with great memories yet often forgetful. They pledge themselves to their dreams yet often compromise, are angels that are also devils… It’s why I hate them. And also love them.

The only hope of his family, a youth with the blood of elves and devils walks on a battleground of annihilation and rebirth. He wills his way through boiling lava and icy depths, killing on this field of despair to strike down the lofty figure in his sight. One day he’ll grasp his blade tightly and survey his surroundings, only to find no more enemies to kill.

Billions have perished, leaving only a few million survivors.After his death, Eric is summoned to another world that has been nearly destroyed by corruption.The gods’ influence has all but vanished, and it is up to him to rally the remaining survivors, reclaim the land they lost, and restore the gods’ cathedrals.In doing so, he grows stronger, inching closer to awakening the gods from their eternal slumber.Time is running out.Not only are unimaginable abominations preparing to strike, but Eric faces a deadly challenge from within.His system, a mysterious force aiding him, comes with a dire warning:[WARNING][Each time the system responds, it consumes host essence. When essence runs out, the host’s soul will perish along with the system.][Recommendation: Communicate only when absolutely necessary.][Current essence: 940][1 essence = 1 word generated by the system.][Choose your next words wisely.]

“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.