MTL - Strategy to Capture that Scum Gong - Chapter 143 My born boyfriend

A tale about the former leader of a special organization that served under royalty, now leaving his past life behind and unintentionally getting involved with the martial world.

After losing his parents to an accident, Haruto is thrust into a state of depression. Realizing he never had the power to change things, he eventually took his own life. Before moving on, he’s selected by beings greater than his understanding to balance out a world suddenly facing peril. The world of Mordell, where demon-like creatures and beasts roam, and Guilds of ability users called Warlords are the force to combat these creatures. Armed with the power to change things, he has the choice. Continue living in despair or accept his second chance and become a true Warlord.

The year was 2026, and the world wasn't what it used to be. Ever since the Abyss Gates cracked open three years ago, spilling monsters and dungeons across the planet, life had turned into a chaotic mess. Cities were half-ruined, half-rebuilt, and people clung to whatever normalcy they could find. Hunters—those brave or crazy enough to fight the monsters—became the new heroes. Everyone else? Well, they just tried to survive.Fin wasn't a Hunter. He wasn't a hero either.He was just… Fin. A lanky 19-year-old with messy brown hair, a chipped front tooth from a dumb skateboard accident, and a power that everyone called useless. Absorption. Sounds cool, right? Like he could suck up energy or steal someone's strength. Nope. All it did was let him “feel” things he touched a little more than normal. He could tell you the exact texture of a brick wall or how warm a coffee mug was—big whoop. No fireballs, no super strength, no flashy moves. Just a glorified touchy-feely trick.“Fin, you gonna eat that sandwich or just stare at it like it's gonna confess its life story?” Meg's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.He blinked and looked across the rickety table at his best friend. Meg was short, loud, and had a wild mop of dyed purple hair that she swore made her look “intimidating.” It didn't.

Catching arrows, running up walls, crushing boulders and bending metal, these are but petty parlour tricks in the eyes of martial artists. But where can a genuine martial artist stand in an era where martial artists are nothing more than a myth?