Advent of the Archmage - Chapter 51: My Brother! (Part 1)

Mythical Abode Mountain, Cloud’s End Cliff, the most dangerous of Azure Cloud Continent’s four deadly areas. Cloud’s End Cliff’s base is known as the Grim Reaper’s Cemetery.

“The True Form Of Order is chaos, It is a tale as old as time itself!”Since Dungeons began appearing around the world, things have changed. The world has evolved, letting dungeons alter the genetics of humans, giving some of them abilities and powers that no ordinary person would have.These abilities were called magic, and the ability to use them or even control them was called having mana. Almost 80% of the world’s population has gotten this ability. When a person who awakens their magic is seen, he or she will be taken for evaluation. To see their strength, there were strong and dangerous warriors who had to be used to keep the dungeon at bay and make sure that nothing happened to the world.Amid all this chaos, Darius Winters, a typical loser trying to make sure he would make enough money to pay for his sister's treatment, joins a guild on a raid. When his life is changed, Darius gains a powerful system, and he can get stronger than he was; the system makes him potentially the strongest warrior in the city.But he chooses to hide from the spotlight and take care of his sister. But how long can he keep up with that? when he is thrown in the middle of a brewing war between divine beings

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”

Lin Yi failed the college entrance exams and chose a diploma mill university.

And as deserving of a diploma mill university, the first line of the admission letter read:

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