Rumor Has It That I'm Pregnant with His Highness' Child - Chapter 128

“Failed writer. Failed hunter. Failed at life.”Aiden Jus had heard it all before. At twenty-eight, he was a walking reminder of what happened when you failed your mana awakening and spent thirteen years chasing a dream that would never come true. No powers. No future. Just a cramped flat in the UK and a lifetime of rejection letters from publishers who never bothered to read past the first page.But the day Aiden decided to give up on writing—the day he was ready to finally accept a soul-crushing desk job at an editing firm—everything changed.*[You have been chosen by Nabu, God of Literacy and Scribes]**[Skill Acquired: Narrative Embodiment (Divine-Rank)]*The ancient Mesopotamian deity offered Aiden something unprecedented: the power to physically enter any story he writes and gain real abilities from the fictional worlds he creates.*[You have mastered Celestial Blade Art - Skill permanently acquired]**[You have learned Tier-9 Spell: Void Severance - Spell permanently acquired]*Every sword technique mastered, every spell learned, every power gained inside his stories becomes permanently his in the real world. But so does every death trap, overpowered villain, and narrative cruelty he carelessly wrote in moments of frustration.Suddenly, Aiden isn't just a failed writer anymore. While other awakened humans rely on mana cores and dungeon raids, Aiden's strength comes from the worlds born from his imagination—a power that operates outside the traditional hunter system entirely.As rival gods compete for powerful human contractors and ancient ruins promise unimaginable treasures, Aiden must survive the deadly fictional universes he created while building his reputation in a society that once dismissed him as worthless.**From the typewriter to the battlefield, Aiden Jus will prove that the pen truly is mightier than the sword—as long as you're willing to live through every word you write.**

On the Great Land of China, forces clashed for the sake of supremacy and Bloodline Warriors ran amok; the conflict of the strong threatened to shatter heaven and earth. A young man named Lu Li—nothing more than a humble Coffin Carrier from the Northern Desert—came along with Lu Ling, his sister. The two were regarded as puny insects and bullied, but little did people know that Lu Li had the strongest Bloodline of them all in him.

He mounted the most handsome of horses and drank the strongest of wines;

He bedded the most beautiful of ladies and murdered the most hated of people;

He told a huge lie and carried with him an ill-reputation undeserved;

He traveled all by his lonesome and danced with devils;

He had given his word that he would come back, that he would be strong.

And it was because of this that she was still waiting in the city—alone.

- Description from Novelupdates

Dante, one of ten heroes summoned to save a world, was betrayed. Chosen by the Death Goddess as the fearsome Death Monarch, he wields a mysterious system that fuels his meteoric rise to power.With an army of undead, beasts, and dark creatures at his command, he embarks on an epic quest to annihilate the realm that scorned him, only to become what he spent years fighting. Along the way, he encounters evil, seductive women whose dark charm draws him in while causing complete chaos wherever he goes.[If you don't like pure villainous MCs who have no mercy, no conscience, and will kill anyone along the way. The only thing he doesn't do is rape or any of that degenerate shit - then this isn't the novel for you]

“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.