Reverend Ecstasy - Chapter 313 Who is the Father?

Aiden Nightshade wakes up in a dark, unfamiliar forest with no memories of who he is or how he got there. The air is thick with danger, and monstrous creatures lurk in the shadows, watching him. Before he can even move, a glowing panel appears in front of him.[Welcome to the Ultimate Bond System.]A cold, synthetic female voice echoes in his mind. It tells him to tame the beasts, bond with them, and grow stronger together. But this system isn’t normal. When Aiden forms a bond with a beast, it doesn’t just become his companion—it transforms into a powerful humanoid woman, one who still has the instincts and memories of the creature she once was. They aren’t just allies. They feel his pain, share his power, and their devotion to him is absolute.As Aiden explores this strange world, he quickly realizes something—no one else can do what he does. Other tamers can control beasts, but they can’t make them evolve like he can. They do have a system but nothing like his.With his growing army of beast-women by his side, Aiden will carve his own path, breaking the rules of this world. And when he discovers that the deepest bonds unlock unimaginable strength, he understands one thing—this isn’t just about surviving.It’s about rising above everything. It’s about domination.In a world ruled by beasts, only one man will stand at the top.

Mutations occurred around the whole world and soon, a demonic apocalypse befell.

In order to defend against demonic beings, humans swiftly entered a globalized digital age. Everyone would be able to choose between a fighting or a supporting job through awakening once they reached the age of 18. These people would get stronger by slaying demonic beings.

Lu Yan had awakened to the weakest job, a Necromancer. However, he had also received a Job Supporting System and was able to reawaken into a hidden job, Lord of the Death.

“Necromancers are so weak that they die in one hit!”

“Man, that dude’s luck is just the worst. He did get a fighting job, but it’s the weakest. What can he do? Summon a few skeletons?”

“Also, aren’t there only like a handful of Necromancers out there? There aren’t a lot of experience or resources for them to inherit. Their future seems bleak.”

“Forget Necromancers! I got the Holy Knight job! Your all-around king is here!”

Not long after that, Lu Yan appeared in a full set of Death Nether Armor while wielding the Death Soul Scythe and leading a 100 thousand-strong death army. With a single swing of his scythe, he split the mythical rank demonic beast in half.

“Necromancers are weak? What does that have to do with me, the Lord of the Death?”

The novel Chronicles of the Hero of Frosimar is a story about the failures of the protagonist not the successes.“It’s not good.”The First Emperor, who conquered the whole world, closed his eyes with a brief appreciation (after reading the novel).But the moment he opened his eyes again, there were only a few lines about him in the Chronicles of the Hero of Frosimar.This was because he became an imprisoned prince who met death with his first appearance (in the novel).

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.”