Return of the Female Knight - Chapter 263 - There Are Many Similarities (1)

[Congratulations. You have met the requirements to become a Cursed One! Your fate has been changed!]What did it mean? Ragna was a transmigrator, reborn into this world as a Cursed One. But what was a Cursed One, they were the demon spawsns aclaimed to be the son's of the devil himselfA black screen with white text appeared before him, and he felt a sense of trepidation.[ Request Accepted ][ Status Screen Unfolding ]Character Name: Ragna RingwoodTitles: Cursed OneAge: an hour oldSex: MaleRace: UnknownLevel: 0Exp:0/100HP: 5/10[Attributes]Mana: 10Strength: 10Agility: 10Vitality: 10Mana Sense: 10Bloodline: (Unknown)???????Skills: NoneRagna's eyes widened as he stared at the screen. He was a Cursed One, with unknown abilities and powers. The thought sent a surge of excitement through him.

On just another normal school day, while 16-year-old Drake Wilson drives his two best friends, Mike and Chad, to school, an unexpected twist of fate occurs in the form of a cat. When a cat runs across the road, Drake narrowly misses it, and his car ends up driving into a nearby field. With a sudden storm, a flash of light explodes, creating a dimensional portal in front of them. There is nothing they could do to stop the car from entering the portal. On the other side, they find themselves in another dimension filled with magic and power. To Drake, the place looks familiar because it is the starting point of his new game called “Dimension Master.”

It was only last year that I realized that the world I had been reincarnated into was the world of the Romantic Comedy book. What's worse, the person I had reincarnated as was someone featured in the book.A running gag character who the Main Characters ran into at the most random times, of no use, and who would disappear as quickly as he appeared—an Extra C.Last year. A year before starting High School.It was already too late.Extra C had already become...

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.”