Transmigration: Space-Aided Rise to Power and Prosperity - Chapter 884 - 720: Developments

Julian Weber is an officer in the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and a graduate of Westpoint Military Academy with a degree in civil engineering. As U.S. involvement in Afghanistan comes to an end, Lt. Julian Weber finds himself involved in a terrorist attack by the Taliban, which claims his life.

However, he quickly finds out that death is not always final as he is reincarnated into the body of a Baron’s son and heir in an alternate Earth set in Late-Medieval Europe. In an era of political turmoil and civil strife, the Baron’s young son is named Regent of the Barony of Kufstein and forced to contend with feudal powers. Will he be able to institute reforms leading his Barony into the age of industry?

Or will he succumb to the pressure of his feudal overlords and a corrupt church that seek dominion overall?

One morning, after being bound to the system, MC started his routine of always being captured/ attacked by the ML.

You’re a struggling young doctor, barely making ends meet with a measly $2000 monthly income. Life’s pressures and trials weigh heavily upon you!But lo and behold! One fine morning, you wake up to find yourself equipped with some sort of cheat codes…You’re scheduled for an appendectomy, so you roll up your sleeves and get ready to explore the abdominal terrain:You touch the cecum: “Cecum: Healthy!”You palpate the colon: “Colon: All clear!”You reach the appendix: “Appendix: It’s an inflamed, pus-filled appendix monster, level 15, rare creature. Recommendation: Perform an appendectomy!”With a decisive hand, you wield your scalpel and skillfully remove the troublesome appendix.“Ding! Rare appendix monster eliminated! Rewards: +100 experience in appendectomy, +$100, and a shiny white suture needle!”And thus, your journey begins as an emergency surgeon. But remember, with great healing powers comes great responsibility!

“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.