An Immortal's Tales Of Demons And Gods - TDG Fanfic - Chapter 8: The City Lord Faction

This is a cliché story about two young people saving the world.

Delia's life was a cruel reality: the neglected and abused illegitimate daughter of a noble family, the Ellington family, she yearned for the love of her stepmother, Baroness Augusta, and younger sister, Lady Anne, who relentlessly mistreated her.Her world crumbled when she discovered a double betrayal: her beloved husband, Lord George had secretly pined for Anne, marrying Delia only to be near her sister. Simultaneously, her step mother framed her for a crime Anne committed.Overwhelmed and heartbroken, Delia's attempt to escape a death sentence led to a fatal carriage accident.But death was not the end. Delia awoke one year in the past, finding herself still engaged to George. This was her second chance, and the naive girl was gone, replaced by a woman consumed by a burning desire for revenge. Her first target: Duke Eric Carson, the powerful and wealthy man her sister Anne desperately pursued.Delia boldly approached Eric with a proposition for a contract marriage. To her surprise, Eric agreed, but with a condition: their fake marriage would become real and they can go their separate way after a year, hiding his own secret agenda. Now, armed with Eric's unexpected devotion and his willingness to lay down his life for her, Delia meticulously begins to dismantle her family's world. With Eric's help, she exposes the secrets they hide, manipulates their desires, and turns them against each other, orchestrating George’s demotion, Anne's downfall and seizing everything her sister coveted, including Duke Eric love and obsession.Will Delia and Eric be able to conquer all odds to get what they want? What happens when Eric doesn’t want their contract marriage to end? What happens when the last petal of that indicates her second chance falls?———————EXCPRET“I can’t return your feelings, your grace,” Delia whispered, her back against the cool wall.“But I can,” Eric murmured, stepping closer.Delia’s voice trembled. “It’s not the same.” She choked out. “ No one can love me without hurting me.”“Then teach me,” he said, his breath warm on her cheek. “Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved. I’m a quick study.”When she stayed silent, he sighed contentedly, a soft smile playing on his lips.“It’s alright. Just… use me. Anything you need. if you want money, ask the treasury, take as much money that’s needed. if you want power, use my name. if you want security and love, use my body.”His breath warmed her skin, his chest rose and fell with hers. “As long as it's from you, I'm happy.”

Before going to college, an ordinary high school student went to celebrate and got drunk. When he woke up, he found himself in a completely different world. There was a big sect, the approaching sect entrance examination, a slum where his body’s previous owner lived, and a shared memory about a missing young girl.

“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.