Heavenly Opposers - Chapter 286 - 285-Who Are You?

He is the heir of Di Hao Group; decisive, cold-blooded yet dotes on his wife a little too much.

Ai Qian, a street-crazy author who wakes up every day because of her own poverty, is bound by the system!
The system is obedient: Host, you are the daughter of a rich family, you are a billionaire female president, you are a superstar… Are you happy?
Ai Qian: Hehe, I might be happier if there is no hero who can kill me at any time.

- Description from novelbuddy

Alexander Gray, a fifteen-year-old teenager on the verge of his awakening and subsequent entry into the Hunters Academy is one day taken away in a cosmic mana wave that passes through Earth’s solar system during a school trip from Earth to Mars. A wave that kills a person once exposed to it. Luckily, the displacement wave placed him close to their destination where he was found, alive and well to the disbelieve of everybody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, the cosmic mana wave had awakened a gift within him that would propel him to the ranks of hero hunter and beyond, granting him the strength to lead humanity in their effort to determine the cause of their universe changing and its implications. ............. “For some reason, I can’t level up.” Alex began to feel frustrated as he was stuck at Class F, the lowest rank a hunter could have after awakening, despite his momentum when he first awakened. Even with his awakened talents and the benefits he received from the ’accident’ that should have killed him, he now finds himself stuck and unable to level up as mana does not work on him like everyone else. Follow Alexander Gray as he discovers his abilities and learns about himself in a chaotic universe and beyond.

“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.