Chrysalis - Chapter 1385: Well Now

“I am a benevolent god. If you worship me well, maybe I will save you… from the calamities I send.”Zayne was just an ordinary guy, when he was picked through a random draw to become a host of the God System. Having accepted the offer - could that even be considered a choice, when his soul would have been exterminated otherwise? - he was transported to a different world, tasked with gaining believers and growing his cult, earning points from their faith. Once he gained enough believers and points, he would be able to rise to a higher position in the Pantheon…However.A ‘life’ as a deity turned out to be far less glorious than he would have thought. Centuries later, he is still stuck in his first world. Fulfilling prayers day in and day out, as a mere consciousness floating in nothingness, alone with the system. He cannot rank up, he cannot move on, and he cannot even vent his frustration well, because he’s always short on points!And his believers are not even loyal, still worshiping other gods as well!In a moment of distraction, he makes a mistake, which initiates his descent.Not wanting to waste the points he has already spent, Zayne decides to wander the world for a while, posing as his own prophet, using this opportunity to spread his faith… And more importantly, vent all his pent-up anger, and have fun along the way!Randomly doing whatever he wants, he accidentally discovers a path he could take as a god: sending calamities, and then rescuing people from them - of course as long as they pray!And so his journey to the top finally begins.

Waking up from a nightmare several hours before dawn, Belle fetched a drink of water.

She paused in front of her kitchen’s window when she noticed a lit lantern in front of her mansion’s garden. Her butler stood there, shovel in hand. This was no hour to be gardening.

Curious, she made her way outside, but when she had gotten close enough to see a large and hollow pit next to her eternally-stoic and polite butler, she saw him pick up a rotten body.

A DEAD BODY!

Her eyes widened fearfully when she saw her handsome butler drop the rotting body into the fresh hole. She asked in horror, ”What are you doing?!“

Surprised to see his young miss awake at this hour, he stared at her with the same expression he had been keeping up for all these years. He had made sure she was asleep before coming here.

“Gardening.”

“And the body?!”she looked at him in disbelief.

“Fertilizer,” he answered her before picking up the shovel that was on the ground. Belle was now certain something had possessed her butler. Who gardened dead bodies?!

She then heard him ask her, “Want to help me in planting it, Miss Adams?” he gave her a sweet smile.

Note: If you enjoy a book of comedy with light-hearted romance and a gothic background. This book is for you~

“You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one,” Dumbledore told Harry Potter with absolute certainty.But what if Voldemort did have a friend? Not just a friend but the friend? A millennia-old wizard, who learned the secret of Hogwarts from the great Four founders, and had his own goals to take over the world?To stop that ancient wizard, an ancient power is called upon . . . in the form of a girl. A Muggle-born at that.Christina Norton has powers beyond anyone's imagination but she is too caught up in the Chosen One Harry Potter's life and catastrophes. But as she starts to uncover the plans of Voldemort, she realizes someone else is working with him. Someone who wants her dead. Why? She doesn't know. She just knows she has to save her loved ones and Hogwarts from Malgino and for that she is ready to go to the end of the world.And fight whoever comes in her way.

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.”