MTL - I Rely on Kisses to Clear Survival Games - Chapter 14 Reality (1)

A cursed CD game falls from the sky. I boot it up, build a ridiculously handsome villain with broken talents, and just as I hit “Start”—boom, I get electrocuted.Now I’ve reincarnated as Lucien Caelum Valebrandt, a six-year-old noble and the infamous villain who helped the Abyssians win the last war.Every 500 years, the Abyssian King is reborn. But when the 16 chosen heroes of this generation lost against the battle of the Abyssian King because of my character, the Goddess panicked—and rewound time.Now those same heroes remember everything… and they want me dead.Even though I just got here.All I wanted was to play a game. Now I’m the villain blamed for destroying the world.

Imagine being forced to live, after death, as incorporeal bodies trapped in a vast space of nothingness for thousands of years, with nothing to do but exchanging past memories with other cohabitants (read: weirdos). Everybody wanted out, but there was no way to leave the Void…

In the tribal farming era, the world was vast and unknown. Upon continuous exploration, the people of ancient times were appalled to discover that in this world, where the sky was round and the earth was square, all sorts of miracles had befallen them. There were even figures like an ultra-big ten-thousand-foot giant, as well as huge intelligent beasts that had mysteriously appeared, trampling upon the mountains and rivers, and shattering the earth. Hundreds of years later, in such a dangerous environment, people fought against the huge beasts and finally established the glorious Sumerian civilization. On this day, a wise giant suddenly made a complete descension on earth, trampling on all the mountains and rivers, and wiping out the entire nation. The world crumbled, and city-states collapsed; had the gods descended to condemn the people?

“I’m sorry, you’re all just ants living in the orchard of my yard and you are just scrambling all over the place. If I were to accidentally pass you by, I might just accidentally trample you all to death. That’s it for you.” So first, I’ll set up a sandbox in my own yard, a base area for plotting farmland. Then, I will shepherd the human race and various worlds in my sandbox.

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.”