MTL - Public Executions From King Duma - Chapter 676 The name of the first apostle of Destiny - Rock King Dijun

A skilled but unfortunate modern-day assassin was killed in a freak accident. However, he soon found himself summoned to another world by an evil wizard, who had him possess the body of a boy as an experiment. After successfully planning the evil wizard’s downfall, he used the wizard’s body as a springboard to gain influence and power in his new world.

- Description from Novelupdates

The ancient empire was on its last legs, the nascent federation echoed with the roar of steam, slumbering gods gradually awoke, and colossal beasts that vanished in the primordial era were slowly emerging.When Laine arrived in another world, a magical profession panel awakened within him as well.Laine believed that if a person's life could keep growing stronger, one day they would certainly be able to control their own destiny and stand shoulder to shoulder with the gods!

Delicious food and sake.

And if pressed by beautiful girls, shouldn’t you be honest with yourself and make a harem?

That’s the creed of an uncle who was teleported to another world and decided to relax and farm.

He and his brides are very satisfied with the food cooked with Japanese seasonings. The cooking ingredients of that world are delicious but his crops are delicious too.

“Tatsuya-san, do you hate having fun with us?”

“Not at all.”

This is a story of a man spending his time eating delicious food and having fun with girls.

Today’s dragon steak is as delicious as ever.

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.”