Fallen Realm Online: Rise of The Fallen Monarch - Chapter 10 - 0009 - Expelled From The Mansion

The half-elf Sharlayan, who was excluded by his tribe since he was a child, got rid of the restriction of anti-addiction on the day he became an adult, and obtained his own golden finger-the “window” that can communicate with other worlds.

From this moment on, his every move will be under the attention of countless people from other worlds, but because of this, he has obtained a lot of vital information from the bullet screens of those sand sculpture netizens.

About the nature of Azeroth, the future of the high elves and Quel’Thalas, and, as a half-elf, my true origin.

The world is beginning to unravel the veil of mystery, and no matter whether Sarlayan is ready or not, the magnificent wave of the era is just around the corner.

“Children, embark on a journey, witness this vast and mysterious world with your own eyes, and discover the truth hidden behind it.”

“Don’t be ashamed of your half-elf blood, I believe that one day, you will fulfill my and your mother’s expectations, and make the whole of Azeroth proud of you!”

“…Also, who said your mother is human? Have you heard of Dragon Knight?”

――Father, Julian Deep Shadow

- Description from novelbuddy

With the booming age of the internet, livestreaming is already a prevalent career all over the world. With people proving that money could be earned here, a lot of people jumped into it, gaining fame and wealth.Jay is a struggling 21 years old college student who dreams about becoming a livestreamer. Unfortunately, Jay don't have any talent beside his slightly handsome face. Because of that, it was hard for him to even have some viewers.But by a miracle, Jay gained the ownership of the Cube, changing his life all the way by doing all kinds of achievements![Congratulations, you completed the achievement 'Sing to your viewers in your live stream.'][You acquired the skill 'Singing' level 1.][You acquired 5,000 pesos.]...Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Liv Hamelsvoort, who bears the label of the ‘Fake Saintess’ and is the laughingstock of high society for her unrequited love for Duke Lartman. No one could understand her, but she likewise couldn’t understand them.“I’m in the middle of enduring the love of the gods.”There was a world that ordinary humans couldn’t dare to comprehend.“Who harmed my child?”“Does my child not exist in this world?”“I don’t need a world where the child I love doesn’t exist.”The moment the enormous things she had been bearing were revealed, Liv’s life finally began to change.“I will love you in any timeline, Your Grace.”Liv was content as long as she could continue loving. But if she wanted to protect that love, she had to change; the world was whispering that to her.

“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.