The eSports King's Crush - Chapter 3

Welcome to the universe of Spectre. Jace comes of age and joins the army like all others his age. In a militaristic society that is normal. But his high level of intelligence and hard work quickly make him invaluable. So invaluable that he becomes a center of conflicts as the galactic empires rise and fall, revolutions occur, and invaders arrive. Join Jace as he goes from an orphan from the slums to becoming Spectre. As he navigates his military life he also navigates passing relationships and long term... 'contracts'.The novel contains depictions of torture, bloodshed, and overall brutality. Sexual content is heavily suggested and will be depicted as well, but it will not be the focus of the novel.The book cover was generated using Adobe's AI art generation system.

In a world where demons and elves coexist, Adam Harris awakens in a strange place, completely without control of his body. His hands are shackled, and sharp spears are pointed at him, ready to pierce him. In a state of shock and panic, he breaks free from his shackles and cries out the question, “What the devil is going on here?”

A mysterious and stunning girl, enveloped in a mystical aura, responds to his words. Her eyes glow with bright flame as she turns to Adam, demanding he surrenders. “Surrender, demon!” At that moment, Adam feels a strange warmth inside him and, glancing behind him, discovers soaring black wings. He realizes that he has now become a demon himself and is a prisoner of the elven tribe.

However, on the brink of death, when he is about to be executed, a mysterious voice rings out in his head: “Conquering Queens' system has been successfully activated!” This system offers Adam a chance at survival and the chance to become the lord of a harem where the beautiful elven queens will submit to him.

Adam's adventures begin as he plunges into an epic battle for power, love, and freedom. In this world steeped in passion and sexual intrigue, he faces dangerous adversaries and wins the hearts of beauty queens. But at every turn, he is haunted by inner demons and past secrets that could destroy everything he has grown to love and strive to achieve.

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“Nine Heavens cast down the Undying Tree, from the tomb the Immortal's bones were fetched;Taoist Venerable tut-tutted as they drank blood plasma, Old Buddha relished in the chew of meat;Beasts and livestock rang the Dharma Drum, city foxes and hole-dwelling rats boiled in the pot;In the Immortality Wine, the resentful spirits were fishy, at the Killing Banquet, the Dao Fruit was bitter!”In this world where Daoist Skill manifested, countless Sect Cultivators, Side Door Magicians, princes and scholars, officials of high rank and nobles all coveted immortality!Owl God Tomb, stealing heavenly secrets, Pearl Gathering Skill, Holy Infant Pill, bone effigies, Yin God Shrine, human-transformed monsters, Undying Elixir, Red Line Poison, Blood Immortal insects, Mermaid Meat, gold-threaded robes, Five Poisons Primordial Spirit, Seven Star Life Extension...They killed and harmed life only to steal the “Killing Dao Fruit” borne upon that Undying Tree!Until... a sly “Fishing Man” came to this world.Wang Yuan, born with the Small Book of Life and Death, had but a simple and unadorned dream:Amid bustling strings and smoky vistas, on a night bathed in moonlight, in peace and quiet did I lean on the rail, savoring the wind, toasting to the stars.With his “Bride in bridal clothes,” watching the sunrise at Taishan in the morning, admiring Qionghua in Luoyang at noon, and drinking under the aurora by the North Sea in the evening.“But you all smell so incredibly fragrant!No more, none shall escape, for today I shall crowdfund Cultivating Immortality! Please... my treasure, turn around!”The blood-red veil of the Bride abruptly fluttered to the ground.

“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.