Supremacy Games - Chapter 1707 Awakening The God of War.

Stranded in a world not his own, in a body not his own, Kaden finds himself stuck as a low rank marine in treacherous waters in the middle of an ocean where only the strongest can survive and a count down until a war that would shake the oceans and the very world itself erupts, where the kings of the sea will devour the chum. Gamer System. Insert.

In chaotic times, one seeks survival; in prosperous times, one seeks fame.Despite being weathered by the vicissitudes of life, the Great Yu Dynasty still found itself in an era of prosperity.In the northwest, a youth trekked nine thousand miles on foot, slaying the Great Demon alone to compete for a lifetime of glory.In Long Lake, an unmatched Grandmaster hurried to the mortal realm to establish a sect, leaving his name to be revered for a hundred generations.In the imperial capital, a saintly figure spread his teachings far and wide, with followers throughout Qingzhou, his legacy lasting forever.Yet within Qingzhou City, in the compound of a family with a long military heritage,there was a child who never engaged in serious pursuits, instead spending his days playing chess, painting, fishing, and playing the zither.Years later—……When the sword rose, dragon smoke stretched for three thousand miles, and a single strike wiped out the cities of nine provinces!Among all the laws of the world, only I, have entered the path.

A new law has been passed as part of the nation's measures to address the low birthrate.Rude women become livestock.Rebellious women become livestock.Women who commit crimes become livestock.In a world where common sense has been distorted, this is the story of women whose human rights have been erased.

“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.