I Reborn as a God Within a Statue, And You Ask Me to Enslave All Gods? - Chapter 17 --Rejuvenation? Everyone is Convinced

I became a miserably weak aristocrat in the web novel ‘SSS-Class Knight’.

With a body that can drop at a moment’s notice, no less.

‘Let’s live for now. Let’s fight on.’

I have to survive, even without knowing the ending.

The 35th Test Platoon of Antimagic academy, they’re one of squads enrolled at academy specializing in raising the witch hunters, whose job is to find and neutralize any magical threats!

Unfortunately there’s a group of failures nicknamed “Small Fry Platoon”, a platoon formed from bunch of self-centered people who can’t cooperate and have personality problems.

Will they manage to overcome their weaknesses and shine as the strongest platoon?

Lu Yu of the mechanical department didn’t want to be a factory boy, so he decided to become a UP in the manual area.

So he left a question on the website: If Bi She builds a space jumping machine, will it affect me from becoming a big anchor?

Under the question and answer, many netizens ridiculed.

“It will affect, and the impact will be great. I am afraid that you will disappear for decades, who will help you update?”

“As long as there are a few more peanuts, I won’t be so drunk!”

In the face of many doubts, Lu Yu just asked netizens to look forward to his live demonstration of the ‘finished product’.

In fact, he just wants to give his debut a boost. Black and red are also red, so let’s talk about it first when it gets traffic.

So Lu Yu brazenly activated the space jumping machine he built during the live broadcast, who knew that he jumped directly from the blue star space to Mars in an instant……

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.