The Legendary Moonlight Sculptor - Volume 57 Chapter 1 - In Morata Part 3

The world is vast, and the way of immortality is insignificant. The supreme being in the Nine Realms is called ‘Tianzun’.

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ps: genius flow! No system!

- Description from novelbuddy

“You’re pregnant, young master.”Valentin Wiche, the beloved only son of the Viscount Wiche family. One day, he realizes that he has been reincarnated as the villainous supporting character in a novel he read in his previous life. To avoid his miserable fate, Valentin seduces an alpha at a ball.“Your scent is truly dizzying…”Did that alpha enjoy their night together that much? He starts showing tremendous obsession.‘Where did this come from?’‘I must have this.’He only did it to avoid the terrible ending of the original story, but the result is pregnancy? Moreover, the identity of the child’s father was someone even more incredible than he thought – Reynard Dennox, the only heir to the notorious Dennox ducal family and a naval hero of the Heston Empire.On top of that, true to his reputation as a klutz, Valentin’s pregnancy is immediately discovered….“Why the sudden ring…?”“What do you mean why? We even have a child on the way, so we need to get married quickly.”

In a world shadowed by death, the silent realms await, home to the undead and the Grim Reaper's sanctuary. As long as death's presence endures, the great Undead Queen will return.

“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.