SSS-Class Suicide Hunter - Chapter 279: Orthodox Faction (4)

Three years after graduating from Hogwarts, Felix enters the school again.

What will happen when Muggle wisdom, innovation and magic come together?

PS1. Professor of ancient magic runes.

PS2. Timeline, second year of the golden trio.

PS3. MC don't know plot of the HP, other than it's adventure of three friends with 8 movies.

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Author: Han Yousi

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*Disclaimer*

Other than translation, everything belong to the original creator. If the original creator wants to take it down, pls leave a review below, just found the CN novel and translate it here to increase my vocabulary, English and to earn some coffee change.

The youngest Wiseman of the continent, Chu Tian, has traveled 30,000 years back in time to the age of antiquity due to an accident.

In the autumn of his second year of high school, Tsujidou Masachika had just been appointed as the student council president when he found himself helping a student who was suspected of smoking in school.Her name was Ooba Monaka, a junior gal rumored to be a beautiful girl.He helped her on a whim, with no intention of getting involved. At least, that’s what he thought until…“I’ll do anything to thank you, Senpai~”For some reason, she became extremely attached to him!She would barge into the Student Council room every day, help with event preparations, and even go on dates. Gradually, Masachika and Monaka get closer as she aggressively narrows the distance between them.In the midst of it all, it turned out that the ‘suspected of smoking’ accusation was actually due to malice…?A sweet romantic comedy with a cheeky and cute junior gal begins!

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.”