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Transmigrated To A Lustful World As A Third-Rate Villain?

Ubasu
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
"You ever read a fantasy novel and think, ‘Wow, I’d hate to be that guy’?" Yeah, that guy’s me. The name’s Daniel, and I didn’t reincarnate as the chosen one, a legendary swordsman, or even the hot side character with a tragic backstory. Nope. I woke up in the body of Kyros Vale, a third-rate villain from a dungeon-hopping fanservice novel I once read for ahem “the lore.” Kyros? Yeah, he’s the guy who tries to crash the elite Skyrim Academy, pisses off a main heroine, gets humiliated by the protagonist in front of half the kingdom, and gets yeeted to the reject bin known as Gravemont Academy — a school so irrelevant, even the monsters don't bother attacking it. And lucky me, I arrived after all that happened. I complained. A lot. But once the existential crisis passed, I had a thought: “If I can’t be part of the hero's story, I’ll just rewrite my own.” So now I’m stuck in a crumbling school with future dungeon bait and magical flunkies, surrounded by girls the original novel used for comic relief, and I’ve made it my mission to turn Gravemont into the strongest academy in the realm. Somehow, I keep finding ancient artifacts, unlocking forbidden powers, and — don’t ask how — winning over dangerously attractive women with unresolved trauma. Meanwhile, the original hero and his harem are off saving the world. Me? I'm training misfits, dodging plot assassinations, and stealing screen time like a rogue extra with a vengeance.
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Chapter 1 - Gooner Gospel

There are a few things in life I consider sacred.

Instant noodles. Wi-Fi. And the holy seven-chapter weekly drop of Sword Lord's Harem.

So there I was, sitting cross-legged in the middle of my one-room apartment like a discount monk, my eyes locked on my phone screen as if I could will the update into existence.

I hadn't moved in three hours.

My spine was in the shape of a question mark. My legs were asleep. My soul was screaming.

But none of that mattered.

Because the clock hit 8:00 PM.

And the update hit.

"Yes!" I hissed, tapping furiously.

The thumbnail loaded.

It was time to read Chapter 931, baby.

I leaned forward, ignoring the way my bowl of noodles was now fused with the windowsill like some modern art piece.

"C'mon, give me plot. Give me waifus. Give me dungeon-lore-induced nosebleeds."

I took a breath and dove in.

[Chapter 931: The Sword Lord Charms the Goddess of Frost]

The main character, Kairo — bless his overpowered, emotionally constipated heart — was mid-flirt with Frostina, the tenth official waifu.

A literal goddess of ice who'd previously tried to freeze his soul.

Romance.

Meanwhile, the Realm Eaters — multi-dimensional horrors chewing on existence like it was bubblegum —were about two weeks away from causing an extinction-level event.

But sure. Let's spend three chapters on a bath scene.

I scrolled faster, desperately hoping for plot.

And by plot, I meant anything not involving temperature-adjusted hot springs and accidental towel drops.

Nothing. Just sparkles. More sparkles. And a line where the MC said:

"You're cold on the outside, but your heart is warm, isn't it?"

I slammed my phone down so hard it bounced off the floor and hit my foot.

"OW — damn it, Kairo! Read the room! The sky's literally cracking open and you're busy roleplaying freezer-burned foreplay?"

I picked the phone back up, sighing like an anime character five minutes before a filler arc.

Then I made the mistake of checking the comments.

Oh, boy.

[FanboiSlayer27: Bro... what is this garbage? Has the author been lobotomized?]

[WaifuEconomist: Dropped. Dude's writing like his IQ fell down a dungeon shaft.]

[HeroOfTrash: Let's be real. The last good arc was the 'Elf Milk Arc'. Everything since then has been plot diarrhea.]

[ElvenMilkEnjoyer: I waited all day for THIS? Even my fanfics have better pacing.]

[BetrayedByUpdates: Author's clearly on something. And not the good kind.]

I paused. Stared at the screen.

Now, I'm not usually a guy who starts internet wars. But Sword Lord's Harem meant something to me, damn it.

I'd followed this series through its early janky arcs, through the Mid-Tier Tower Tournament, through the cursed 'Yandere Mermaid Saga.'

I made spreadsheets.

I watched lore videos.

I may have written a totally ironic fanfic.

I wasn't gonna sit by and watch these keyboard warriors treat my beloved trainwreck like a public restroom.

So I cracked my knuckles.

[@FanboiSlayer27 Imagine reading 930 chapters and only now realizing you have bad taste. Congrats, bro. That's a long-term L.]

[@WaifuEconomist Author's IQ is fine. Your patience bar just runs on AAA batteries.]

[@HeroOfTrash Don't act like you didn't scream when the MC dual-wielded fateblades in Chapter 728.]

[@ElvenMilkEnjoyer Bro your username disqualified your argument before you typed it.]

[@BetrayedByUpdates You're mad he's writing. I'm mad you're breathing.]

I hit "send" on the last one with the smug satisfaction of a man who'd just lit five fires and walked away in slow motion.

And then, I did what any responsible adult would do after internet combat.

I went to Instagram to doom-scroll memes.

But before I could even like a cursed image of Shrek with anime hair, I got a notification.

[@SwordLordAuthorOfficial wants to message you.]

My eyes bulged.

Blue check. Hundreds of thousands of followers. The real deal.

The guy who created Kairo.

The madman who invented a battle system based on emotionally repressed sword spirits.

The same author I just defended like a rabid dog in the comment section.

I clicked.

Only one message.

[What would you do if you were brought into the world of this novel?]

I blinked. "Huh?"

I stared at the message, half-expecting it to be a prank.

But nope. Legit account. Verified. Active stories. Recent post about 'Frostina's New Design Sketches.'

I stared harder, like squinting would reveal a joke.

"What would I do…?"

I leaned back on my bed, which groaned like it was sick of my problems.

"Well, I'd probably die immediately," I said to no one. "Trip on a rock. Get eaten by a slime. Or worse — become comic relief."

But still. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

What would I do?

I mean, it was a deathtrap world. Dungeon cores. Monster outbreaks. Sexy necromancers with moral flexibility.

But it was also… exciting.

Adventure. Power-ups. Legendary swords that whisper edgy one-liners.

Even the Realm Eaters seemed more tolerable than my current job where I microwaved food for people who thought ketchup counted as spice.

I started typing a reply.

But then my phone buzzed again.

[You'll find out soon enough.]

I stared.

Then the screen glitched.

My lights flickered.

The ceiling fan gave one final creak and stopped mid-spin like it was holding its breath.

"…Uh."

The air pressure changed. It felt like the room was holding in a sneeze.

Then, suddenly, a voice.

Not through my phone. Not in my ears.

In my head.

[Candidate confirmed. System recalibrating. Initiating dimensional transfer.]

"Whoa, whoa — HEY! I didn't consent to this! I didn't even press 'I Agree'!"

The phone slipped from my hands.

The floor dropped out from under me like I was in a Looney Tunes trapdoor sketch.

Colors inverted. Gravity said "peace out."

I screamed something that may or may not have been "MOM."

Then the world turned white.