MTL - The Fallen Merman - Chapter 192

Blue Kent, also known as Ice King, is a Dominant Omega who despises Alphas. But for his new book, he needs an Alpha whom he can use as a model for his main character.Luckily for Blue, an Extremely Dominant Alpha, Winter Dumont, comes into his life and offers to be used as a model for his book character.This offer isn’t made without personal interest. Winter is a scumbag who likes conquering Omegas with fierce personalities.Blue just happens to be an Omega who fits perfectly into Winter’s ideal prey.With Winter relentlessly chasing Blue, will he be able to withstand temptation due to his hatred for Alphas or will Winter’s eccentric personality change his views about Alphas?To know, tune in to the chaotic story of this gloomy x sunshine duo.

❗[Current Writing Contest-WebNovel Spirity Awards 2025 Fantas]❗Flain grew up in a futuristic world. When he was born his parents didn't want him because he didn't live up to their expectations and so he ended up very badly.Flain was employed as a slave. He was forced to mine radioactive iron deep in the mines. It was drilled into his head that he existed only to obey orders.Young Flain was obedient. He doubted some of it but knew nothing else. For years, he never saw a single ray of light; light was only spoken of among the others as a legend.The routine was the same: in the morning, he would take a nutrient tablet and water. Then he would mine all day, sleep eight hours, and repeat.Flain worked like this from childhood until he was ten years old. He even found a friend, but that friend died of radiation poisoning right in front of Flain. Flain couldn't stop mining. He kept mining with tears streaming down his face.Before bed, Flain cried. “I will become the strongest. I will kill you all, and you will become my slaves.”Flain stopped crying, stared blankly at the rocky ceiling, then looked ahead. A manic grin appeared on his face, one that would often adorn it from that moment on.At the age of ten, Flain was assigned to a military camp due to his endurance in the mines and his survival against radiation.In the camp, Flain was trained. The regime was much looser; he even had an hour of free time each day. However, Flain didn't make any more friends. Even during his free time, he trained with a smile. He would achieve his goal at any cost, even if it meant training himself to death.Experiments were conducted on Flain. He lost his hair, two long gray arms grew on his back, and a third red eye appeared. Flain became a mutant.Flain was then sent to war. He fought with sharp katabas. He performed quite well in the war, earning himself command of ten soldiers and becoming a small commander.But one day, everything changed.Flain then dies, is swallowed by darkness, and Flain refuses to die, thus appearing as a skeleton in a fantasy world.

Playing under the plum trees and riding on bamboo, those were the days of joyful play. It was when they first met.She was not shy but innocently charming, standing before the breeze with her hair flowing, her complexion as creamy as curds.After waking up, Xu Qingfan had returned to 20 years earlier, to the year 2002.That year, the sky was very blue, the clouds were very white, and the wind was very noisy.That year, his Childhood Sweetheart hadn't gone abroad, their parents hadn't gone grey, and he hadn't the worries of being unaccomplished.That year, he was six, she was five, and they both could fully experience the climate as snowflakes blossomed.PS: This book is also titled “Help, I'm Surrounded by Childhood Sweethearts” and “I Have a Little Too Many Childhood Sweethearts.”

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.”