The Strongest Gene - Chapter 833 - The Damnable Setting

Just when I got to know her, the hairy girl only wants to beat me up!Prim childhood sweetheart treads on me underfoot!Childhood friend turned sister suddenly demands I repay the kindness of upbringing?...Are all these twists of human nature, or the moral decay?Surrounded by young girls wielding knives, Shen Mo Dust trembles: 'Author, why do I only meet bad women?''What exactly are you not satisfied with, let's switch roles!'Jealous at having crafted the protagonist's peak of life with his own hands but without a single girl by his side, the author furiously slams the keyboard!(Spotting the little whips raised by the venerable readers, he picks up the keyboard again)The alternate titles of this book are 'They Shine Like Stars' and 'They Are Lonely Like Stars'.

When I opened my eyes, I found my soul synced into the popular dating sim game, ‘Midnight’! And although I was clearly one of the female protagonists, I possessed the body of Evenes Harin, the saint who is treated like a trivial extra. What’s worse is that I must pursue one of the five male love interests and see it through to a happy ending in order to complete the game.

Having attended the triple combo of an all-girls middle school, high school, and university wasn’t enough of a debuff, having unintentionally put up an iron defense, I’ve been in ‘forever alone’ mode for 25 years. On top of that, I’ve possessed the Saint seldom played due to her atrociously difficult route! This life is screwed up, and I’m sure of it.

[Warning: The title might be named this way, but we’re actually NOT on hiatus.]I’m a third-rate writer, Yu Il-Shin.So don’t think that I’m actually a god; it’s just a name.One day, I experienced the much-anticipated awakening, but my newfound skill was… kinda weird?…In the small world connected through my mobile phone where the little, weak ants were getting killed regarded me as their god?

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.”