MTL - Dark Blood Age - Chapter 1825 I would rather believe you

[Entering the Dungeon: Scarlet Premium Choice][Dungeon type: Solo][Please choose the position you wish to apply for][1. Delivery Driver][2. Stock Clerk][3. Shipping Clerk][4. Receiving Clerk][5. Loader][Detection of host entering the Dungeon, cheat loading successful][Please host, choose one of the following three cheats][1. Purification Template: Possess purification abilities, immune to any pollution][2. Super Brain: Photographic memory, brain processing capabilities multiplied by ten, immune to mental damage][3. Zombie Template: Impenetrable skin, immense strength, bloodthirsty, fearless]...[Entering the Dungeon: Bloody Train][Dungeon type: Large-scale multi-player Dungeon][Number of participants: 30][Detection of host entering the Dungeon, cheat loading successful][Please host, choose one of the following three cheats][1. Infinite Soul Coins: Start with 1000000000000 soul coins, spend at your leisure][2. Hundredfold Amplification: Can amplify a single attribute of yourself by a hundred times, can switch to any attribute at any time][3. Stone Man: You become an ordinary, unremarkable stone with no presence, you can safely pass this instance]Murru Feng realized that his cheats could be refreshed with every Dungeon World.

So, apparently I'm Albedo now...And to make things worse, I'm in the Marvel universe, which one exactly, I've got no fucking clue.Fuck man! Why do I have to be in the body of a inverted person! Do you know how attention drawing white hair and red eyes look like in the real world?! It's been like what, the 4th person who asked me if they were natural?!...I gotta dye this shit black, like my original hair was...

Sold to the Duke of the Empire, I still had hopes of a happy marriage in my heart as I'd liked the Duke for a very long time. I wanted to give the Duke my everything, even if it was just a political marriage. I tried my best to fulfill the marriage but Alexavier Agnes, the man I got married to never showed up in our bedroom even once after six months of our marriage.One day while having dinner we had a small quarrel and he dashed out of the room fuming and panting in anger.That was also the night when my screams and cries echoed in pure darkness as I was murdered brutally by some assassins. Why was I killed? Why did my husband hate me so much? Why did he not show up in our bedroom for six months? There's so many questions I didn't know the answers to.I shed tears of blood as I took my last breaths and swore to myself that if I get a next life I'll never marry this man again....Turns out God listened to my prayers as I woke up as my younger self... But I failed to stop my marriage with him. And something strange happened as he unexpectedly showed up in our room on our very first night.“I only married you to save the marquis's fortune.” I paused before adding, “I'll divorce you in an year.”His brows furrowed as he growled, “You can not divorce me.”Why? Why does he not want to divorce? He hates me and I hate him back, divorce is the best option for us. Then why? Just what changed this time?

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.”