MTL - Ask Immortal Way - ~ Enough is enough for today

Explore the Universe through the hardest, truest weapon: the Fist.

Jack Rust was a disillusioned biologist with a PhD—almost. When an extraterrestrial AI calling itself the System invaded Earth and thrust it into a world of aliens and violence, the least Jack hoped for was magic. Unfortunately, the System decided to spawn a forest dungeon around him and a goblin in his face, which left him little choice.

Armed with nothing but his fists, Jack must grow strong enough to survive entire menageries of monsters. He needs to return to civilization and find out what the hell is going on. He might also get magic—or not. Surprising himself, Jack discovers that violence is fun.

In this battle-ridden new world, Jack finds the life he always dreamed about. He won’t just survive. He will thrive.

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When low-level healer Elias Vale stumbles upon a cursed cocoon in a forgotten ruin, the last thing he expects is to hatch the reborn soul of the Demon Queen Revantra—in the form of a scared little girl.To save her from divine execution, she binds herself to him through an ancient soul pact, fusing their fates. Now, Elias is stuck raising the former destroyer of worlds—who can barely tie her shoes, but occasionally melts furniture when she pouts.What starts as reluctant guardianship soon spirals into something far more dangerous. As Rhea (her new alias) grows stronger, older, and far too attached, Elias must keep her identity hidden from zealous church inquisitors, ambitious heroes, and the remnants of her own loyal followers—some of whom want her dead... again.But the longer he protects her, the deeper the bond grows—and the harder it becomes to tell who’s really taming who.Because the world once burned beneath her wings……and this time, she’s not letting him go.

“The Second Cult Leader and the Prophet of the Voodooists died during the Holy War seven years ago.”

Florence Academy was a prestigious clergy academy.

“Now that the Voodooists are considered as a cult, who is the Third Cult Leader, where are they now, and what are they up to?”

Only I knew the answer to this question.

The Third Cult Leader was a freshman at Florence Academy. He was here, standing amongst the others in the auditorium.

How do I know this, you ask?

Because I’m the Cult Leader.

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“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.