The Harvester - Chapter 11: Scram

A continuation from where High School DxD Volume 25 left off.

Lucan Ironfist came from a noble family, but he wasn't the eldest son. When his brother became the head of the family and he turned 18, Lucan would become a commoner. A strange rule, but that's how it was. So Lucan began to think of a way to live a peaceful life.As he was considering this, his mother arranged for him to become a priest in another city. A priest didn't have to worry about food or housing, and all he had to do was watch over the temple and the statue.It was easy work, so he agreed and arrived at the city. One day, as he was watching over the temple and the statue, a poor-looking girl came to pray. When she prayed to God, light gathered around her body.Lucan was surprised and suddenly remembered the plot of a certain game. Originally, Lucan was from Earth and had traveled to this fantasy world. When he was on Earth, he played a game with a plot where a merchant family's illegitimate daughter, bullied by her family, awakened the power of a saint.Lucan decided to keep this secret and train the saint so that in the future, he could have an easy life and save himself from any crises.

One day, a silver-haired goddess appeared before him.“Heaven-Defying Star. The one who goes against fate. The sole savior of a world doomed to end—”What the hell is this woman even talking about?“You must be the Regressor.”“… What?”No, I’m not.

“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.