To My Dear Mr. Huo - Chapter 109 - You Have to Give Them a Chance

In a world far more dangerous than the one he once read about, Nero Ravenclaw is reborn as the heir to Rowena Ravenclaw’s legendary bloodline. Armed with knowledge of the books and a mind sharpened by experience, he quickly realizes that this isn’t the same Harry Potter universe.It’s darker, deeper, and filled with wizards far more powerful than he ever imagined.Determined to carve his own path, Nero seeks to reach the apex of the magical world. As he unearths the secrets of the founders, navigates political intrigue, and clashes with forces both known and unknown, he must forge his strength to survive.With new ranks of wizards, powerful bloodline abilities, ancient magic, and a reimagined magical system, this is the untold story of a Ravenclaw who refuses to be bound by destiny.The wizarding world is far greater than anyone imagined.And Nero intends to claim his place within it.Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter or its characters (except the original characters I create).

Zixu woke up to find himself in the world of *Naruto*.Too weak to survive? No problem—he has the Kaido template.Unfamiliar with the *Naruto* world and clueless about ninjutsu? No worries—devouring Sarutobi Hiruzen's soul will take care of that.Caught in the constant battles between ninja villages and struggling to protect himself? Simple—just start his own teaching faction.Lacking manpower? Short on talent? Easy—swing the hoe well, and no corner is too deep to dig.

[Ding! Sorceress Beauty Merlin from Camelot has added you to a chat group full of beautiful maidens!][Ding! You've claimed the title of Supreme Demon Lord!][Ding! Fairy Queen Ophelia tagged you in a post!][Ding! Medusa sent you some of her spicy videos, shut your blinds before watching!][Ding! Your dog has been transformed into the Ancient Black Dragon Veligrpyh!]James Kang, once the youngest heir to the multi-trillion-dollar Hart Global Corporation, has everything anyone could dream of: money, luxury, and freedom. But his life is hollow—friends are fake, family distant, and his days are a blur of shallow extravagance.One late, lonely night, James gets a notification:[Congratulations! You have been added to the Ancient Multiverse Chatroom!]Thinking it's some cringy online role-playing game, he decides to entertain himself and plays along, proclaiming himself the “Supreme Demon Lord.”The group, filled with titles like:[Princess of the Azure Seas][Dragon Emperor of Ashvale][Goblin Slayer Supreme][High Priestess of the Sun][Fafnir, the Pet Wyvern]And they seemed hilariously invested in their roles.What starts as a joke takes a bizarre turn.The more James participates, the more he notices strange phenomena: glowing runes on his skin, magic artifacts materializing from nowhere, an elder dragon in his garage, and a sudden mastery of dark magic.Things escalate when a private group chat, run by a perverted female King Arthur, invites him to [The Table of Beauties], a circle of god-tier roleplayers… or so he thinks.Soon, James learns the truth.The chat is an interdimensional nexus connecting real worlds where magic, legends, and gods exist. His casual banter and fake roleplay have turned him into a living, breathing Demon Lord, complete with a castle in Hell, loyal monster armies, and reality-warping powers.To make matters even crazier, his “friends” start visiting Earth, and they’re nothing like he imagined!

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.”