Lust System: Harem In Two Different Timelines - Chapter 9: Gathering Supplies

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ⚠️This story is targeted towards young adults and it contains Mature Content such as:- Vulgar Language- Graphic Depictions of Violence and Gore- Graphic Depictions of Sex and Nudity- Potentially Offensive Religious ThemesYou must be at least 18 years or older in order to read this story, and by reading it, you do so at your own risk. Reader's discretion is advised.

WARNING!-DARK ROMANCE-“Why do you have scars?” All of sudden, Iris changed the topic, as she looked at Cane in the eyes. She was still clutching to his sleeves.“Your father gave me,” Cane replied. He thought, Iris wouldn’t remember this conversation when she woke up.“That must be so painful.”“They are.”“Will the scars heal?”“I don’t think so.”The night indeed made you vulnerable and let you said something that you would never admit when it was bright. The obscurity softened your heart.“Too bad. You have a warm soul.” Iris frowned slightly.“I no longer have a soul.” He had sold his soul for the freedom of his people. There was nothing left of him right now.“Yes, you have, but you are in so much pain.” Iris blinked her eyes. “Your beast is in pain. You have so many scars.”“The only scars that I have is on my face.”Iris shook her head meekly. “I am not talking about your face. I am talking about your soul. Too bad, you are in so much pain… what my father and brother had done to you must be painful…”And after that, Iris closed her eyes and fell asleep.======================She is the daughter of an alpha who has killed his family, razed his pack and has also made his people slaves.Now, he has achieved revenge after ten years of being treated as a slave and was living a life that no one would ever imagine. Life akin to hell.And ten years later, Alpha Cane manages to take over and kill the alpha who has made the lives of his people worse than death.It was time for him to make the children of the alpha pay for what their father had done.Only…Iris was a runt and she was very different from her father.

Trojas was a land of beauty, rich in warmth and culture. It was also home to some of the finest warriors on the continent. The people of this prosperous nation lived happily, taking great pride in their homeland.Ceremus Marcrinos had just inherited the throne, and despite his grief, he carried out his duties the best he could. Unfortunately, his loneliness overwhelmed him, and the only escape from the pain in his heart came through his vices. Whether it was drinking the night away, sleeping with countless strangers, or getting into unnecessary fights, the king just couldn’t stay out of trouble.The citizens of Trojas initially tolerated his behavior, sympathizing with his loss, but things only grew worse. Ceremus, once revered as a benevolent king, became a tyrant. His abuse of power pushed the people to their breaking point, and in desperation, they prayed to Kaleeso, the goddess and creator of mortals, to ease their suffering. The goddess, moved by their cries, chose to send someone who could finally put the unruly king in his place.A man emerged from the heart of the Aphthonia Forest becoming the protector of its land. He had but one mission—to save the people, but more importantly, save the King of Trojas from himself.The problem was, would the prideful Ceremus be able to accept such a change? Especially when all he had known for the last eight years was solitude? I mean his chosen one was destined to be a man!

“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.