MTL - Pirates: Steel Chain Fingers - v2 Chapter 392 old age, new age

In the Bog forest, dangers were in every corner. During the nighttime, the thick white mist blinded the eyes and the chilling air froze you to the bones. Once morning arrived, thousands of ferocious mutated animals as big as the hills roamed for prey.

Among them lived the weakest species on the Meer Continent, the Monster Species. They only survived with their tough bodies in the midst of a world ruled by magic power.

To the mage, they were simply pests that were easy to be exterminated.

To avoid the eyes of the mana rulers, they had to hide in secluded places; in the caves shrouded by shadows or in the dark underground where filth was brimming. But, continuing to hide was not a solution.

When warbeasts sharpened their claws, elves polished their weapons, humans feasted on their greed, and demons searched for prey with their thirst, an orc named Moku was born.

Moku was a world MMA champion who transmigrated into the body of an orc in the magical world. He had always dreamed of possessing superpowers; being able to jump beyond the clouds, shattering the mountains in one hit and running faster than sound.

Moku dreamed of having these powers. He used rituals, magical lore, and all the things that were considered myths and fairy tales in his home world to make him and his tribe stronger.

A promise was deeply engraved by him. One day, he would bring the war to those who underestimated them.

As the overweight daughter of the Sutton family, Kelsie is an eyesore to everyone. Her father can't wait to get rid of her, his wife and their daughter daughter too.The man she's supposed to marry can't stand her and looks for ways to end their engagement, all to no avail.But on the day she's to get married, she finds out she's pregnant.Her fiancé finally uses the opportunity to break off his engagement to her and her father sends her packing to her aunt in another city never to return after she refuses to remove the baby like he asked her to.Seven years later, she returns to the city to claim her position as the heiress of her mother's fortune, which her father and his wife and daughter has been living off of all these years.But not as the overweight duckling everyone expected, but as a stunning, glamorous woman.Behind her are three children: a daughter who looks exactly like her, a handsome son, and another handsome son who looks too much like the most powerful man in the city.Unexpectedly, the dimwit, her fiancé who broke off their engagement comes begging for them to get married like they were supposed to.“So what if you're stunning now and lost all that weight? Everyone knows you used to be an ugly duckling. Who knows the underhanded ways you resorted to to lose weight. Forget our past and marry me again.”The woman looked at him and snickered. “Aren't you the heir of the Baker family? Why would you marry a fatso like me?”The man huffed and said arrogantly. “Hmph! Do whatever you want. But I assure you that no one in Silicon Valley will want to marry a woman saddled with bastard children!”The triplets came up on his face and snorted in disdain. “Who's this? Where is daddy when a man like this harasses mommy?”“I told you he wasn’t worth her. Hurry up and call him quickly.”The man who was in the middle of a conference call ended it as soon as he heard the news and went straight to where she was.“Are you hitting on my wife? Bastards? Are you calling the beloved children of Jett Adler bastards?”“Eh-what? Jett Adler? The most powerful man in the city? How is that even possible!”

Lin Qing He transmigrated into a novel and became one of its cannon fodders. The novel’s background is non-viable 1960s, a time of want to eat but nothing to eat and want to wear but nothing to wear.

“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.