The Black Shadow Soul Hunter - Chapter 14: The Potential

Mana finally arrived in our world after being delayed for unknown reasons, causing the evolution of everything that had life.

Humans, plants, and monsters all evolved, ushering the planet into a new era in which old laws no longer applied and the only law in the world was the rule of the jungle, where the strong preyed on the weak.

It was a question of whether we, the 'rulers' of the land, would be able to maintain our position and adapt to whatever came after our planet's awakening, and if we did, was that the end?

A god of a different world had abruptly appeared in my classroom and semi-forcibly summoned the entire class to his world.ーーーーexcept for me, Kamiya Yato.

Lin Yuan, carrying the “Door to Myriad Worlds,” transmigrated into the Great Universe of the Starry Sea.Here, the mightiest could obliterate star systems with the flick of a finger, and traverse millions of light-years in an instant.As a bottom-dweller, Lin Yuan could only rely on the “Door to Myriad Worlds” and his innate talent, “Against-Heaven’s Understanding,” to travel through countless worlds, silently growing stronger.【Your Against-Heaven’s Understanding allows you to cultivate the Muscle-Tenden Transformation Bible, comprehending the ‘Muscle-Tendon Transformation Blood Tempering Divine Technique’】【Your understanding is Heaven-Against, upon extending your comprehension to the Thunder in the Palm, results in the mastery of the ‘Thunder Creation Opening Technique’】【Your understanding is Heaven-Against, while observing the birth and death of worlds, leads to the insight of the ‘World in the Palm’】【Your understanding is Heaven-Against,, through studying the art of external incarnations, culminates in the ‘Self-Transformation Great Technique’】……In his unending travels, Lin Yuan ceaselessly grew stronger, until… he was unrivaled across all worlds.

“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.