Lord of the Foresaken - Chapter 245: Council of the Fractured Harmony

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- Description from novelbuddy

Carlos Valois thought dying once was enough—until he woke up as a 10-year-old in the world of “The Dark Era,” a game he'd mastered in his previous life.Born as the last heir of a fallen noble house, Carlos discovers he's destined for a tragic fate: in six years, he'll be manipulated into joining the dark forces and killed by his own childhood friend. But this time, he has the ultimate cheat code—memories of the future.While other kids play with toys, Carlos hunts for divine legacies. Using his game knowledge, he performs an ancient ritual and steals a Demigod Mark from the thousand-year Sacred Oak—a power that should have remained hidden for decades.At 15, Carlos awakens as a Death Herald with broken stats that shouldn't be possible. Most Death Heralds are fragile summoners hiding behind weak skeletons. But Carlos combines his necromancy with stolen divine abilities, creating a hybrid build that turns him into an unstoppable force......[Skeleton Warrior has successfully evolved into Purple Thornblade Skeleton Guard!][Purple Thornblade Skeleton Guard has activated Bond: Glory of the Purple Thornblades!][Twelve Purple Thornblade Guards have formed an Undead Armored Knight Legion!].....His skeleton warriors aren't cannon fodder—they're elite undead legions enhanced beyond normal limits through secret evolution paths that took thousands of players years to discover.Every “coincidental” encounter is actually Carlos farming legendary opportunities. While his sister thinks he's just a lucky genius, Carlos systematically raids every hidden treasure, secret technique, and forgotten legacy he remembers from the game. Ancient bloodlines, divine artifacts, mystical cultivation methods—if it exists, he's taking it.With his infinitely evolving undead legion, Carlos set out on a path to rewrite destiny and become the supreme Death Herald legend.

With an unparalleled and exhilarating narrative, he is the nation’s lethal weapon, the soul-slaying god, annihilating all who offend the Yun nation.He is one of the Four Gods, the Hellish Evil God, undefeated and unmatched, with a name that echoes across the globe.Moreover, he is the inheritor of the Dragon Body, having slain two gods, the Flame Emperor and the Apollo God, inheriting their divine status, becoming an unyielding force that commands attention.He is Mu Chen, the Casanova for women, the nightmare for men, embarking on the ultimate urban passionate journey...

“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.