What Do You Mean There Are Other Transmigrators In My Harem Fantasy? - Chapter 199 Making A Dangerous Promise

The hearse with the weird odor slowed to a stop before the entrance. The sound of pebbles could be heard bouncing on the ceiling. There were footsteps coming from the corridor, and there seemed to be someone sawing next door. The door knob to the room rattled slightly, and the faucet in the bathroom kept dripping even though it had been screwed shut. There was a rubber ball that rolled on its own underneath the bed. Wet footsteps started to surface one after another on the floor. At 3 am, Chen Ge held a cleaver in his hand as he hid beside the room heater. The call he was trying to make was finally answered. “Landlord, is this what you meant by ‘the house can be a little crowded at night’!?”

“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.

The nuclear holocaust which caused the collapse of the Old Times on Earth should have wiped out all human life on the planet. Yes, the gods set up their beautiful Elysiums to provide sanctuaries for their chosen, but by all rights everyone outside the elysian lands should’ve perished long ago. Yet somehow, human life still managed to persist, even in the deadly, mutant-infested wastelands.

Cloudhawk was a young scavenger who dreamed of being as free as the hawks in the skies, yet seemed destined to live out his life scrounging for scraps in the wasteland ruins. Fate, however, is ever-fickle. A chance meeting with a ragtag group of mercenaries changed the trajectory of his life, bringing him into a world with mutants and metahumans, demonhunters and godslayers, and even gods and demons. Cloudhawk would find his own place in a world that was far greater than he had imagined, find his own path between the zealous light of Sumeru and the whispering darkness of the Abyss… and one day, he would find that even gods may fall.

“I WILL MAKE THEM ALL REGRET THE DAY THEY MET ME! I WILL MAKE THEM WISH THEY WERE NEVER BORN! AND I WILL MAKE THEM HATE THE DAY THEY THOUGHT OF BETRAYING ME!”“You will, Sweetie. And I'll help you with that...”Those were the last words Avery spoke and heard before passing out in her bloody red wedding gown, on the same day she was supposed to marry her boyfriend from senior high school.~~Avery McCallum, the sole heiress and president of the McCallum Group of Companies, had her whole family wiped out on her wedding day. Framed for her grandfather's murder and stripped of her position, Avery vows to take revenge on those who wronged her. But her powerless state seems to mock her determination.Enter Archibald Donovan. She used to hate the devilishly hot and narcissistic chairman of the A² Corp who also happened to be her older brother's best friend, but when consumed with the need to take revenge, she begged him to marry her in return for fulfilling a long list of conditions. Archie agrees, and a month later, Avery re-emerges as Ava Donovan, a rising actress and the wife of the most powerful man in the country.With her newfound status, Avery systematically destroys her adversaries, uncovering dark secrets and hidden agendas along the way. But as she navigates the treacherous landscape of her new life, she must confront the truth about her family's past and at the end of it all, come back to him.She owed him after all...EXCERPTArchie's eyes darkened when he saw her stumbling out of the wine cellar, a bottle of wine in one hand and her night robe, in the other. She was literally half naked.“Hey...” her greeting came out in a slur, and that was all he needed to know she was drunk. Very drunk, at that.“Why?” he asked simply, knowing she would interpret his question as she usually did.“I...I visited them today. The flowers on their stones were already wilted and...and...it broke me. I wanted to be happy and at the same time, I wanted to cry,” Avery replied, inhaling short wisps of air before she continued, “Then I found the cellar.”“Did it work?”She shook her head slowly in reply, lifting her head up in time to see a mischievous smirk curl on his lips.“Don't be sad, Baby girl. I happen to know a way to make you cry and keep you excited at the same time,” he said.“Really?”“Wanna try it, Mama?”Avery nodded, slowly but firmly as he closed the distance between them.As he promised, she did cry...in pleasure.