Pick Me Up! - Chapter 25.2: Weakly Dungeon (4) Part 2

The story is about a man who’s opposed to the now-common practice of implanting false memories, but is one day given memories of a fictional childhood friend. This fabricated happiness torments him, but then, to his surprise, he meets her – a girl who shouldn’t exist.

Eighty years ago, an alien war broke out in Earth’s orbit. A powerful fugitive known as Tree was pursued by an extraterrestrial force. In the battle’s aftermath, the fugitive’s heart merged with Earth’s core, giving rise to a massive tree—marking the dawn of superpowers.Awakening. A phenomenon where humans gained extraordinary abilities. Seventeen years later, nearly everyone had awakened… except a few. Those who failed were called Rejecters, the lowest in society.Zane Carter was born into infamy. The son of a fallen superhero-turned-supervillain, he faced discrimination from birth. He dreamed of being a hero, but his father’s sins made him an outcast. Even after rigorous training, his Awakening failed. Rejected by the Hero Academy, ridiculed, and cast aside—his fate seemed sealed.Until one day…[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]Welcome, User. You have been selected as the recipient of the Borderline Supervillain-Slash-Hero System.Generate your first skill? Y/NWith his newfound system, Zane is given a choice: become the hero they never wanted him to be… or the villain they always feared.

A broken prince, a shadowy scheme, all that amidst a bloody fight for a throne wrongly succeeded. Join a group of youngsters as they take their first steps into the martial world, towards the grandest adventure of their lives. It all begins in a certain inn, set against verdant mountains and facing a scenic lake.

“Bring us your finest wine and best meat!” Yelled a hulking man who seemed to be the leader of the dozen strong group.

“How much?” The waiter anxiously nodded his head.

“As much as you have!” The hulking man yelled back.

“That’s…”

“HUH?” The hulking man shot the waiter a furious glare.

“Dear guests, our inn operates on the principle of ‘pay first, dishes later’. As such, it will be better if you tell us exactly how much meat and wine you need.” Xiao Se returned their furious stares with a thin smile.

“Who are you supposed to be?” The hulking man eyed him with bulging eyes.

“This humble one is known as Xiao Se, the owner of this inn, the Fallen Snow Villa.” Xiao Se replied with the same smile and with a level of courtesy worth a solid 12/10.

“Well, we have no money.” The hulking man stabbed his blade into one of the nearby tables.

“Oh?”

“But I’m sure you have some!” The man pointed his finger at Xiao Se.

At that, Xiao Se furiously shook his head. “I’m sorry to break it to you but our little inn hasn’t made a single sale in almost a month. I’m about to owe them salaries myself…”

“Like hell if I care!” The hulking man smashed his palm down on the table. “Even if you have no money, that fur coat of yours should at least be worth a hundred odd silvers.”

“NONSENSE!” Yelled Xiao Se, eyes wide open and gaze as sharp as daggers.

The hulking man was stunned, his body even shivering involuntarily for that split second.

“I, Xiao Se, ride only the finest horse and wear only the richest threads! This fur coat of mine was specially sewn by some of the finest seamstresses in the imperial capital in the August Threads. Just sewing it took three whole months, shipping it, another one. Hmph, a hundred silvers? That’s not even enough to buy the sleeves of my coat!”

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.”