MTL - Global Game: Comes with Portable Store - v3 Chapter 162 guardian spirit

Ancient existences wake up in the abyss, demons whisper in people’s ears, unknown horrors erode the spirit, and madness breeds in the darkness of people’s hearts.

But it is not only darkness that descends on this world.

There are heavily armed dark knights walking in the dark to judge crimes; tight-fitting supernatural beings wandering between buildings to act as friendly neighbors; The impossible god on earth, the “S” symbolizing hope shines like the sun on his chest…

No one could have imagined that behind all of them, there was just a player sitting in front of a computer screen holding a keyboard and punching hard.

- Description from novelbuddy

Cross the world of suspected secondary elements and carry the rescue system for welfare.

Can you increase your level by increasing your proficiency?

Can you get all kinds of items and abilities after the completion of the task?

Still, need to travel to more secondary worlds to complete the rescue mission?

Well, before Li Yalin needs to consider the most, how to earn enough debt of one hundred million to hold the coffee shop carrying the girl’s dream.

Everything has to start here…

- Description from Novelupdates

Idol show for dead people?Rayen was suddenly thrown into a supernatural idol show after meeting an untimely death at the peak of his career as a band vocalist.Upon waking up in a strange building, with a creepy stalker fan claiming to have written his entire biography, and a strange jukebox demanding him to perform, he learned of his death and found himself in a bizarre situation.[Please select a song to dance.]“What? Dance? I don't know how to dance!”[Select a song or disappear?]“Ain't no way I'm gonna dance!”[If you want to revive, become an idol.]“Screw revival! I don't want to dance!”

“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.