Valkyrie's Shadow - Chapter 6Before the Storm: Act 11,

Coming to my senses... I find myself a desperado.In the depths of azure, black sails flutter.Treasure gleams, blades ring out.Pillage, slaughter, irreverence towards the gods.Youth fades swiftly, all but meat and wine for pleasures.[Slice of Life][Romance Simulation][Business Simulation]

If you ever receive a letter offering you admission to a university in another world, do yourself a favor and toss it straight into the trash—especially if that university trains girls to transform into giant mechs and battle space aliens.No. Just no.Believe me, I know from experience. What once seemed like a dream is now more of a nightmare. My name is Zaft Callahan, and I enrolled in an engineering support course on the cyberpunk planet Xyraxis. At this university, genetically-engineered girls are trained to transform into giant mechs called Warfare Augmented Intelligent Frame Units. My goal is to become a support unit for these WAIFUs in their battles against Cosmic Beasts, using the Weaponry Enhancement Engineering Bios System.Little did I know I’d be partnered with my high school nemesis—Myrrh Alicent, a beautiful WAIFU. Together, we must navigate this university’s endless twists and turns, win tournaments, battle Cosmic Beasts, and even uncover the mysteries of an Outer God. And as if that weren’t enough, we still have to face the ultimate challenge: surprise quizzes in advanced calculus.What to expect:Cyberpunk World Isekai.First Person View of a Male MC with an overpowered Support System with LitRPG elements.Female MC turns into giant mech. What else do you want for a WAIFU?Slice of university life full of brainrot comedy, fluffy romance, and some weird ecchi.Space battles, mecha tournament, and eldritch horror enemies.

“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.