The Most Generous Master Ever - Chapter 1015 - Strange Black Fog

When other people experience a body transformation, it is inevitably either male to female or female to male.

Me? I wake up to find myself transformed into two different bodies.

Both a male body and a female body, one conscience operating two bodies, all sorts of embarrassing moments.

Walking together normally makes other people think that I am sweethearts with my other-self, such sadness.

Also, the entire business of a hero rescuing the beautiful maiden, I call Bull.

I get slashed by a sword and my female body gets abducted, and he wants me to thank him?!?! Can it be less of a tragedy?

- Description from Novelupdates

Su Mu took the player panel.

Came to the game world 10,000 years in advance.

The most common talent for players has been drawn:

…immortality.

However…

Although longevity, level experience is locked, what should I do if I can’t upgrade and become stronger?

Only practice, practice, practice!

There is no time in the cave, and a thousand years have passed.

On his way out, he found…

The girl I rescued casually back then actually created a tribe for me? !

Become a tribal totem yourself? !

…

Five thousand years later, the first batch of beta players arrived.

They looked at the totem statue standing in the first tribe, and looked at each other…

“This is the system introduction, a very easy to kill level 1 boss?!”

- Description from novelbuddy

Life isn’t dramatic.

Takasugi Shinsaku once mentioned, “The mind to bring interest to an otherwise uninteresting world”, but if you’ll let me have my say, “An otherwise uninteresting world is also interesting”.

The world is just right with this level of boredom.

That is the conclusion to the results of my, Kagoshima Akira’s seventeen years of lived experience.

It’s not like anything’s ever going to happen.

I mean.

Witches from other worlds,

and cyber soldiers paying a visit from the future,

and psychics fighting under the instruction of research institutions

don’t exist, after all.

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.”