My British Empire - Chapter 45: major james

Year one of the New Era, the Demon King was defeated by the Hero, divided into thirteen parts, and sealed all over the world. Only the soul can reincarnate and be reborn.Year sixteen of the New Era, in the tavern of a small town on the border, a young maid named Mohe sees a middle-aged man who only brags to deceive people for drinking money. However, she knows better than anyone that he was the Hero who defeated her and split her into thirteen parts.“The former Demon King is now wearing maid clothes and working as a server here?”“The great Hero sir, instead of being affectionate with your harem group, you bark here like a stray dog, deceiving for food and drink. How is that different from a beggar?”

“Is Fate the excuse of the forsaken, is Free Will the delusion of the chosen?”Such was a question that Xavier, the Demon King, never had the chance to ask himself. As he lay defeated, awaiting his death, he wondered about the wretched life he lived.'The hero who killed me, the one who held the same ambitions as me. We both wanted good for the people, for the world. We are both two sides of the same coin, yet, fate decided that he will be the one the light will shine on.Perhaps it was me too, perhaps it was my karma for flowing the rivers of blood with my sword. But still... It was fate that squashed the humanity in me first!Damn fate, if I had one more chance, I would've lived for myself more, I wouldn't have taken this arbitrary role of being a necessary evil... This world, this game of destiny... It can burn to ashes for all I care.'As he sunk into the cold embrace of death, a certain [REDACTED] heard his dying wish with amusement and cast their die, reversing the wheel of time one last time and going all in on him on a risky gamble with the stakes of their world.

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.”

Reborn in the Marvel universe, Hawk learned one brutal truth—safety wasn't something you were given, you had to fight for it. He made himself a promise that day, committing to a path of relentless training and iron discipline that would define the next several years of his life.He didn't want a serum or a suit of armor, he wanted to unlock the power buried deep within.On the day his vow is fulfilled, he awakens a power that sings the song of creation itself, a force that can bend reality to his will.In that same moment, the sky over New York cracks open, and an alien armada pours through...