Overlimit Skill Holder (Web Novel JP) - Chapter Second Coming Of Goddess And Child Of Hope (1/79) 7.1

“Your stats are lower than that of your average person.”

The weakest by a mile among the otherworldlers of class 1-A, Takatsuki Makoto.

The Heroes and Sages who had cheat skills in his class had went off, and the base set lifespan is 10 years?

The Great Demon Lord is going to revive soon?

I am a Mage Apprentice?

Isn’t the balance way too bad? This damn Isekai is a tr*sh game!

“Want to be my believer?”, the Goddess that told me this has zero believers!

Aah, this is bad…I don’t think I can clear this. The Goddess with zero believers is an incredible beauty, and she is telling me she is imprisoned somewhere and is waiting to be saved. My last and hardest mission is to save the Goddess.

Clearing this Isekai that only has adversities, the story of the weakest mage.

The white lotus, a mysterious artifact rumored to contain the very secrets of the soul, granted its wielder otherworldly power. Countless powerful Magi from all around the universe waged an epic battle over it. When the dust settled from their fierce clash, the artifact disappeared, awaiting to be inherited by one with great destiny.

Adam dreamed of breaking free from the grip of poverty, yearning for a life of riches and comfort. Yet, in a world ruled by arcane spellcasters, achieving such a dream meant becoming one himself. However, learning magic was an expensive aspiration. Not only did it require talent, but also vast resources.

But one day everything changed when he stumbled upon a seemingly ordinary white lotus…

A single beam of light could annihilate the world, a single blade of grass could sever the stars.Shen Qing transmigrated to a magnificent universe where immortals and mortals coexisted, becoming a lowly hunter.With the help of the Water Ink Panel, Shen Qing could endure the refinement of Qi-Blood and cultivate a hundred techniques.A technique, after a thousand hammerings, could border on art, and an art, after a hundred refinings, could border on Dao.From the common Bow Technique of rural hunting, to the Sky-Patrolling Sun Shooting Bow Technique;From the Nine Skills, which nourished and trained Qi and Blood, to the undying Six Paths of Reincarnation Technique;From the outward release of strength in Wind Defying Finger, to the Qi that suppressed mountains and rivers with the Eight Desolate Annihilation Seal;From enduring the refinement of Qi-Blood, he embarked on a difficult path of seeking Dao; to commanding the skies, with the divine might as if overseeing a prison, having mastered the balance of the six realms.It was only when Shen Qing looked back that he realized he had unwittingly become the supreme ruler above ten thousand Daos, an unparalleled True Monarch!

“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.