Ferocious Boss: Hubby, Let’s Get Married - Chapter 4333

Transmigrated Become Sukuna, but the host is Yukinoshita Yukino?“Ryomen Sukuna? The strongest sorcerer in history? He’s just an ordinary person born in a time without me.”Hayashizaki stood in front of Ryomen Sukuna, looking at him with a playful expression.“On my left is the 'Little Yukinoshita,' a possessor of multiple techniques, easily wielding both the Limitless Cursed Technique and the Ten Shadows Technique; on my right is the 'Big Yukinoshita,' who has awakened a unique modern technique, no less powerful than me. As for slashing techniques, those are just our basic attacks.”“So, tell me, how do you, Sukuna with 15 fingers, plan to deal with this?”Ryomen Sukuna stared at the black-haired young man in front of him, whose cursed energy was identical to his own, dumbfounded.

Being the daughter of the home wrecking mistress was bad enough; but when your own mother also detested you and actually loved your step sister while treating you like an abomination, that had to be the worse thing in life.As if things are not bad enough, her wedding day is hijacked and the Prince Charming she thought would be hers forever betrays her to be with her own sister and she realizes that they had been laughing in her face all this while.Distraught and heart broken, she does the next best thing, gets drunk at a bar then wakes up the next morning in a man’s hotel room and with a cheap wedding ring on her finger then she flees in fear.Unfortunately for her, that night won’t just go away and she finds that her groom actually wants her and wait for it… he is her ex’s father.“You went into a hotel and spent the night with a strange man, do you deny it?”“why should she deny it when she spent the night with her husband?” a steely voice said while his eyes looked down at Lyse with all the affection in the world then he turned to Brooke, his eyes losing their softness.“Do you have a problem with what my wife and I do?”

Lucian Bowcott only wanted a quiet life. He met up with old friends, made a wish, and died after one drink.Now, he awakens inside a coffin—summoned by the Half-Dead Queen of Atraeum and surrounded by restless souls.Armed with the Death Grimoire, Lucian must embalm corpses, repair brittle bones, and help the dead find peace… before something ancient finds him.As his powers grow, so do the whispers in the dark. If he wants to survive, Lucian must unravel the Queen’s grief, discover why a mortician hasn’t been summoned in over a century, and confront the entities haunting his every step.A/N: It doesn't deal with dungeons, Lucian's system is a magical book, and he slowly unlocks powers to help him with his next assignment. He travels to different places around Atraeum, and in the future, another kingdom.This is a character-driven gothic isekai about an introvert learning that sometimes, peace is more than just embalming a body and preparing it for a funeral. He's more of an undead therapist now

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.”