Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 216 The Prophecy: "Thy Blood Shall Bless The Earth And Thy Tender Touch Shall Birth A Curse That Shall Redden Rivers And Darken Heaven."

[#lovesosweet][WARNING: Mature content 18+][WPC #AUG2023Entry]« Is it not enough that I have been 'sold off' as a catalogue bride but also have to compete with a dead woman for favour? »Shelby looks like she has it all. The perfect family and all the perks that come with it. But she must go through a 'forced contract marriage' and also compete for the attention of the man she had been unwillingly tied to...Ian lost the love of his life so suddenly that his mind still refuses to accept that reality. He gave up everything and secluded himself until his mother found him a bride. His one task was to give the family an heir but how can Ian do this when the air he breathes all revolves around the one woman he can never have. However, he finds himself in a predicament and dilema when the new contracted bride is thrust into his life unwittingly... especially, when he finds out that she is more than meets the eye.

[Shelter System successfully bound to host!][Option One: City of Light, save the survivors in the apocalypse and become a glorious and benevolent savior.][Option Two: City of Darkness, humans who enter the City of Darkness can only become your slaves. And you, will be the devil ruling over the apocalypse.]Sorry, I am no saint, I choose City of Darkness! From today onwards, I will be a villain!

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.”