Ultimate Iron Man - Chapter 85: [VOl-2 END] What’s next?

Painfully shy and conflict-averse, Yun Ruoyan is a scion to a noble house only in name, a puppet embroiled in political machinations beyond her ken. At the tender age of eighteen, poisoned and at death’s door, she finds herself thrown out into the streets. Her relatives have all been executed, betrayed by her dear husband and her cousin. With her dying breath, she curses her own weakness and swears revenge.

When Yun Ruoyan awakens once more, she is thirteen, transported five years into the past by the will of the heavens. Her death-defying experience has changed her: no longer is she the malleable creature she once was. But more questions await at every corner—what is the truth behind the birthmark that disfigures her appearance? What are the circumstances surrounding her mother’s mysterious death?

Will the phoenix rise from the ashes, or will she fall once more in thrall to fate?

Zane was just a working-class adult with a passion for one thing—Cursed Bloodline Online, the once-revolutionary game that had faded into obscurity. After six long years of grinding, he was finally on the verge of ascension—until everything changed.His bloodline suddenly reset.The world itself changed immediately after.And without warning, everyone between the ages of sixteen to thirty vanished—pulled into the game’s world.Now trapped in the Realm of Bloodlines, Zane finds himself different from the others. While most awaken standard paths to power, he inherits a hidden Bloodline Class—the Cursed Bloodline of the Vampire Progenitor, the same bloodline that mysteriously appeared on his account just moments before the transfer.Alone, hunted, and feared as one of the last of a forgotten, despised race, Zane must fight to survive. To grow stronger before the world turns on him. To uncover the secrets of his cursed identity. And to discover what force brought them all into this deadly game.Slowly but surely, he forgets himself from the past, overtaken by the life of the body he now inhabits and the mysteries that surround it, becoming the very thing that caused the gods to curse his race in the first place.

[You have inherited The Class Huntsman Of Death.]Deathborne.An RPG that I couldn’t stop playing in my free time. A game that hooked me to the core. A game that I was determined to finish and achieve the true happy ending by hook or crook.Why?Because no matter what choices I made, no matter how much I tried, it always ended with a bad ending.Not the bad ending in the traditional sense where the world comes to an end, but something worse. The protagonist would win, yes, but only at the unacceptable cost—sacrifices so immense that they left humanity and the world broken.And honestly? I didn't like it.Would you enjoy a movie, novel, or game that ends with only the protagonist surviving?Neither could I.That's why I tried my hardest and kept trying. Alas, despite all my efforts, I have yet to reach the true end but…Until today…It started just like any normal day for me.I returned home, greeted my mother, had my lunch, and was about to start yet another grind. Just as I was about to start, my screen flashed with a blood-red message:[Congratulations, player Mr. Per781, for clearing all hidden conditions. You are now eligible to access the hidden route, as deemed by the game developer.] [Do you want to proceed?] [Yes] [No] Before I could even think about my answer, a hand emerged from the screen and pulled me into the game.And when I regained consciousness, I wasn't myself anymore. I was in the body of a side character as Lukas Star, one of the weakest and nearly forgotten Hunter of the Archeon Academy.

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.”