Transmigrated as the Tortured Female Lead's Daughter - Chapter 585

Have you heard of it?In the dead of night, if you turn on a music player, put on earphones, hide under the blanket, and listen to a single on loop…After it loops forty-four times, you will fall asleep. If you are unlucky when you open your eyes again, you will no longer be lying on your bed, but you will enter a strange space completely isolated from reality.That space… On the surface, it looks like the places we usually see—your bedroom, living room, underground parking garage, bathroom, basketball court, construction site, and so on. But if you observe carefully, you will discover that they are different… Everything is different.***This is the experience of an ordinary person who, after acquiring superpowers, transforms and grows step by step in Dead Ends to reach the peak.

Only I know the end of this world.

One day our MC finds himself stuck in the world of his favorite webnovel. What does he do to survive? It is a world struck by catastrophe and danger all around.

His edge? He knows the plot of the story to end. Because he was the sole reader that stuck with it. Read his story to see how he survives!

Two heroes of the game Legend of Heroes 2 who were rotten waters*.

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.”