Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 7

Alien civilization invaded, global psionics recovered, and a game against alien civilization was born…

What? All transactions in the game can only use psionic coins?

Can’t you quickly increase your strength without burning a lot of money?

Su Yu smiled while standing beside the world’s largest psionic spring.

I have tens of billions of psionic coins! Are you scared?

…

Ps: There are already 1.6 million words of the old book, and the credibility is guaranteed.

- Description from novelbuddy

At some point in the 21st century, the Christian God stopped listening to the prayers of humanity. Monsters with colossal strength and endurance began to emerge and humanity entered its darkest period.

“My name is Zeon, and my weapon is the entire desert.”

The Earth underwent terraforming. As a result, the oceans evaporated, and the land transformed into sand.

On the desertified Earth, Zeon became the sole Sand Mage.

The world named him the Sand Ghost.

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.”