The Decaying World - Chapter 93 - 88: Testing the Sword (Part 2)

A person from our world is transported into the universe of the Avatar animated series. The protagonist's adventures begin in the Spirit World, in a form familiar to this world.“So this is the afterlife. It's not what I imagined. Strangely, my memory remains, but it feels one-sided—all the information is impersonal. No name, no loved ones, as if they never existed. I remember being a middle-aged man when, for some unknown reason, I ended up here. My entire life flashed before my eyes, but the emotions I once felt are gone...”Покорение стихий by EvopalanTranslated with LLMNote: when translated terms like magic / mage / magician were used instead of bending / bender / and chiI'm going through fixing the issueIf you want to support me and get exclusive transitions check out my patreon.com/PHINJO just getting started more to come.Planning on making creating an audio series for the fanfic.

I don’t want to die. I want to be free. To that end, I shall….reconcile myself to the fate of becoming a “monster”.

A strange disease that racks one’s entire body with intense never-ending pain, until the person slowly withers away and eventually dies. After a few years of braving through the pain, the boy is in no luxury to even feel despair. With nary a soul to tend to him, he breathes his last.

The next time he opened his eyes, the boy had become an “Undead” of the lowest rank through the power of an evil Necromancer.

The boy rejoices at having his earnest desire fulfilled, which is a body that will never feel pain. However, he realizes that he is still under someone’s control and how it was no different from when he was cooped up in the hospital ward.

But the world would not leave alone the boy who only wished for peace.

The Necromancer who revives the boy from the dead, names him “End” and attempts to gain control over him.

The Undead Knights, lay their lives on the line to persistently chase after and annihilate the beings of the darkness.

With countless monsters under their command, the Demon Lords rule over their own lands while they all contend for ultimate supremacy.

The motivation being survival and freedom. The requirements being caution and power.

This is the tale of the cowardly King of the Undead. In his pursuit for freedom, he heads into battle and turns tail at times. He knows when to fear his opponents and when to waver in his decisions.

Seria, a social outcast, has changed.
Seria Stern, the wicked woman who made everyone tremble with fear, was now calm.

In fact, she wasn’t just changed, she was a completely different person.

The moment she realized that she had possessed the body of the villain Seria, in a romance novel, she had a hunch about the future and decided to live low.

She would avoid kidnapping and harassing the original heroine, hence preventing her death by decapitation at the hands of Kalis, the second male lead.

In order to avoid that, she had to fix her bad relationship with Kalis and even healed his injured arm.

Thanks to that she got engaged with him, so it’s all worked out.
Finally, the original heroine returned, and her husband, Lesche, should be on good terms with her now.

“I’ve been waiting to escort her, so…”

Lesche asked, resolutely cutting off Kalis’ words.

“Miss Seria, it would be better for you to choose. With whom would you want to go with?”

Something was strange.
The original, wasn’t it perfectly fine?

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.”