MTL - You Look Like You’re Made of Money - Chapter 5

One day, spatial tunnels opened in the very fabric of reality, connecting Earth to a planet that came to be known as Xavier, a planet that has a lot of deserted settlements belonging to the civilization that lived on this planet before we started exploring it.

Each settlement not only hides a secret of its own but also treasures, knowledge, and unthinkable technologies.

In this new world, magicians rule the world and make the rules.

They are those who can contain magic energy, an energy source present in Xavier, in their bodies.

This energy is used to mainly empower supernatural cells.

One can get them by consuming evolution materials.

These supernatural cells suck magic energy to manifest one's superpower in the real world.

Elliot, once the son of magicians in the channel opening stage, now lives the life of an orphaned and poor boy.

Elliot is the weakest magician to ever exist in the world, a world where the strong are respected and the weak are disdained.

With the death of his parents, the ones who used to look down on his has no reason to control their feeling.

With a dim fate ahead of him, he grits his teeth and silently moves on to the day the light of glory shines on him, setting him apart from others in a single day, letting him taste what it means to be God!

What if your own father and his mistress were behind your mother’s death? What if you were about to be sold if to a scumbag?

In the year of 632, a young Emperor was crowned at an age of eight. He was crowned with a crown of a dying Empire, plagued by enemies, internal strife and plague. This was the Sassanid Empire, and he was Yazdegerd III, the last Sassanid Emperor. He was meant to guide the Empire out of these dark times and he was meant to revive the fallen giant.

But it was not to be. After continuous defeats of the Sassanids, the Empire eventually succumbed to the pressure, both external and internal.

But what if?

Table of Contents:

This story contains numerous points of view - you will be told the story and its parts through the eyes of more than one person.

There will be romance - at least I hope so. I am not sure how I'll develop the relationship between the main couple, but I plan to have a bit of romance there.

This story isn't Self-Insert.

There will be many characters, some more important than others.

Although this is a fiction, most of the characters and events occuring are real and this book works with historical events.

And last but not least, you may find this book offensive. After all, it rewrites history completely. And if you do, just don't read it.

Enjoy!

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

“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.