After The Abyss Dragon Woke Up - Chapter 93.1

I transmigrated into a novel that I was reading.“But of all people, why did it have to be Kamon Vade?!”The problem here is this: the character I transmigrated as was a third-rate villain who appeared at the beginning of the original story, but after he had been accused of attacking the imperial princess, he disappeared and left the stage.“Haah, fine. The novel never said that I died anyway. So, I just need to somehow hold out and endure in the academy, right?”But…Maybe because I refused to exit the novel, ‘death’ keeps following me around.‘Motherfxxxer, this is like the fantasy novel version of Final Destination!’Damn it, I have to survive somehow.And I will! No matter what!

[Dragon Family, prequel to Game of Thrones]

Becoming the one-day crown prince who should have died young, Rhaegar survived tenaciously.

Being sick and weak cannot defeat him, and losing his qualifications as heir cannot make him give up on himself.

Start the explorer mission, search for the lost treasure, and embark on the legendary road of conquering the seven kingdoms.

Explore the Black Death’s Skull: Obtain the dragon’s legacy, fire resistance +50%.

Explore the auspicious white deer: get the blessing of the auspicious beast and make a wish for a long life.

Explore Blackfire and the Dark Sisters: Obtain the King’s Gaze and the Knight’s Oath.

Rhaegar rode the dragon, sat on the Iron Throne, and despised the machinations of all careerists.

Winter is coming, I will ride on the dragon.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”