Cult of the Sacred Runes - Chapter 118 – Gathering of Talents

In every story, there exists the hero and the villain, the protagonist and the antagonist.And like every story, the hero always wins, and always gets the girl.But what happens now that I died and became a villain in the last book I read? Not even a proper villain, but one that the protagonist kills in the early chapters.I don't want to die again, and I don't want that simp of a protagonist to walk all over me. Maybe I should just become a better villain.I've always admired the smart badass villains that took on the protagonist. Maybe I can be one of them, maybe I can win—the first villain to win against the hero.I'll rewrite this story into one where I become the greatest villain. Call me sick or evil, but it's my time to shine.

In the vast and boundless continent Cangtu, there were ancient sects governing the Ten Old Domains, unworldly immortal clans beyond the Blue Sky, and primordial demon gods dominating the dark abyss that together created a great number of brilliant stories over the long course of the history.

James Woodrow has transmigrated into a strange world of magic as student in the prestigious Ainsworth Magic Academy. Oh and with him came the gigolo system. Watch how he navigates this strange world full of conspiracies while putting the system to full use by getting all the most beautiful MILFS on the campus.

“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.