MTL - Pierce Heaven Til’ It Breaks - Chapter 2 Heart of Fire

Global changes, calamities come, and monsters plunder.

In order to resist monsters, the global data will be digitized, and everyone will get a combat occupation or auxiliary occupation through awakening and transfer at the age of eighteen, and they will become stronger by killing monsters.

Lu Yan awakened the weakest fighting professional undead mage at the beginning, but obtained the professional support system, and the second awakening concealed the professional undead monarch.

“The necromancer is crispy, and it’s gone when touched.”

“This guy is really unlucky. Although he awakens to a combat profession, he is the weakest. He can also summon a few skeleton soldiers, which is useless.”

“And the number of necromancers is very small, basically there is no experience and resources to inherit, and the future is worrying.”

“Hahaha, I have awakened the Paladins, your Almighty King is here.”

Soon after, Lu Yan was wearing undead ghost armor, holding a ghost scythe, with an army of 100,000 undead behind him, and a scythe split the epic monster in half.

You said that the necromancer is weak, what does it have to do with my undead monarch?

- Description from novelbuddy

struggle for dominance, where power rules above all.But you are no chosen hero. As the third son of a Viscount, you hold no influence—just another noble without purpose. Your knowledge of technology and strategy? Worthless here.Then, everything changes.The cards from your favorite strategy game—the very ones you built and mastered—are now real. No longer digital symbols, but an army you can summon at will. In this ruthless world, where the weak are crushed and the strong dictate fate, this power is your key to survival.You refuse to be a victim. Armed with an army beyond imagination, you will carve your own destiny. Not just to survive—but to conquer.“Soldiers, attack!”..........Note: If you have any questions or comments, feel free to share them!

“Look at him,” someone snickered from a few rows over. “Smells like he sleeps in a dumpster.”“Probably does,” another voice added, louder this time. Nox just stared at his textbook, the words blurring. He had heard it all before.Then, Mark, one of the main reasons his life was a living hell, swaggered past his desk. Mark always had a smirk on his face. “Oops,” he said, not even trying to sound accidental, as a full cup of bright orange juice tipped over, splashing all down the front of Nox's already ruined shirt. The cold liquid soaked through instantly. Laughter erupted around the room. It was loud, clear, and mocking. Nox slowly looked up. His eyes landed on Ms. Joy, who was watching the whole thing. She had seen Mark deliberately pour the juice on him. He raised his hand, a small, tired gesture. “Ms. Joy,” he said, his voice flat. “He just poured juice on me. Are you just going to ignore it? Again?.” Ms. Joy looked at him, then at Mark, who was now theatrically wiping his hands. A small smile played on her lips. Then she chuckled. Just a little airy laugh.“Oh, Nox, don't be so dramatic. Boys will be boys, right Mark?” Mark puffed out his chest. “Yeah, Ms. Joy. He's just sensitive.” The class laughed even harder at that. Ms. Joy joined in, her laughter ringing out with theirs. Hearing them all, hearing her laugh, something in him finally snapped. It wasn't a loud break, more like a quiet, final click. He realized it then, with a cold, hard clarity. No one was coming to save him. No teachers, no police, no parents he never had. No one cared. If he wanted this to stop, he would have to be the one to stop it. He was the only one who could.His face remained blank, but his mind was suddenly very clear. He reached down slowly, his hand going into his worn-out school bag. The laughter died down a little as a few students noticed his deliberate movement, a strange stillness about him. He pulled out a gun.The classroom went silent. Utterly, completely silent. Mark's smirk vanished, replaced by wide, terrified eyes. Even Ms. Joy stopped laughing, her face paling. “What… Nox, what are you doing?” she stammered, her voice suddenly shaky. He didn't answer. He looked around at their faces, one by one. Fear. He saw fear now. Good. He was ready. He was going to make them all pay. He was going to end it, all of it.Just as he was about to raise the gun properly, a bright blue screen appeared right in front of his face. It was translucent, and only he seemed to see it. [Congratulations! You have met the requirements!] [1st Player Chosen!] [You have won the System!]

So here's the pitch: I got reincarnated with Mangekyo Sharingan.Sounds overpowered, right? Instant win button?Except I can barely keep it active for thirty seconds without feeling like my brain's being microwaved. My chakra reserves are pathetic. My combat experience is zero. And the system that gave me these powers took one look at my situation and said “good luck” before fucking off into hibernation.Oh, and the Hero Killer—the guy who murders heroes for not being “worthy”—just decided my mom wasn't good enough. She'll never walk again.I know when he'll strike next. I know where. I've got exactly four weeks to train.Four weeks to go from “can't throw a punch without tripping” to “can survive a fight with a serial killer.”The smart move? Stay out of it. Let the pro heroes handle it.But I'm fifteen, angry, and apparently making life decisions with the wisdom of a shounen protagonist.At least I'm in General Studies. Low expectations.What does being a hero have to do with revenge anyway?