MTL - Please Continue Protecting Me - Chapter 13

Satou Shiki a Japan present-day university student suddenly one day he got attacked by a slasher when he open his eyes he was already transferred to another world’s labyrinth city. In that another world he who was awakened to do a lot of “things”.

​The world, Earth, was devastated by the Great Incursion, an apocalyptic invasion by dimension-hopping monsters. Humanity's only hope now lies in Galaxy Fall, a newly accessible parallel world where they can gain strength through a System of quests and missions.​Five hours after the Invasion, the betrayed survivor Mirabella is mysteriously reborn and gains a unique power: the [Master Account System].Her initial skill is the deceptively simple but devastating 'Multiplier x100', which applies a 100 times buff to all her offensive capabilities, including physical attacks, spirit energy skills, and damage-over-time effects.​Mirabella must now transform from a silent survivor into the world's most feared warrior, who was only scared of one thing, which is?“I Hope I don't run out of opponents in Both worlds.”

“On that day, Zach Harper died-” Or at least that was how it was supposed to be. I died. But there was good news, and bad news. The good news; I was reincarnated! Transmigrated into the World of Aethoria! Holy fuck, miracles do happen! But the bad news was, “Huh? What’s this?” ... [DING!] A New Quest has been issued:- Type:- SURVIVAL Name:- Quest To Becoming Stronger: Description: The {Great Calamity} is coming...Get stronger and survive. Duration-: ... Reward:- ... Penalty:- Death, ??? ] ... I had to survive.

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.”