MTL - Martial Arts: Just Finished the Patrol, the Beginning is Ruthless - Chapter 145

She died with her eyes wide open, waiting by the river for three days and three nights, only to be greeted not by her husband, but by her benefactor. As she looked at the blurred figure, her heart was deeply moved, and she silently made a vow: if she could be reborn, she would definitely marry him!… Later, she really was reborn.

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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.

[Simulation] + [Isekai] + [Goblin] + [Harem]After a long sleep, I awakened in a new life—as a goblin. Weak and insignificant, I found myself reborn as the lowest creature in a world filled with hostility and danger. But from the shadows of this cruel world, a silent rise begins...

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.”