MTL - I Really Don’t Know How To Practice - Chapter 816 i would like

Earth has been visited by the Embryeniel records, so the world and its habitants are pushed towards the path of evolution.Strange monsters only made up by imagination appeared everywhere and the world changed into a situation of either survival or death.Jon is a normal student in Palflic university, all he thought about was finishing his school safely and is faced with possibility of been abandoned by his parents, however little did he know about himself and what the world had in-store for him.Other worlds and universes, clans and sects, people and monsters stand in his way, will he prevail or succumb to the desires of others.

A genius idiot born from an incestual marriage!

A young man with triple identities of worker, murderer, and university student!

Cadillacs and Dinosaurs, Sangokushi, KOF, Knights of the Round, Shadow Force, Street Fighter…

Each one of the arcade games you are familiar with has already been changed into a prerequisite for survival!

Slaughtering Shiranui Mai with Ya Otome, Jigoku Gokuraku Otoshi to kill Li Dian. There is only what hasn’t been thought of, there isn’t anything that can’t be thought of!

On an unknown day, when you walk down the stairs, you may accidentally walk into this —— arcade nightmare!

- Description from Novelupdates

I was a genius in the Earthen Plane.

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.”