Water Mage in the Flame Realm - Chapter 435 - 415: The Power of the True Name

Mochizuki Touya, a 15-year-old boy, who got zapped by a flash of lightning due to a freak accident caused by God, wakes up and finds himself face-to-face with God.

Guang Xiaoyu always thought her senior brother was a dispirited ordinary person, until one day, his pet cow crushed an entire group of Divine Kings with a single stomp.The black dog opened its mouth and expelled a Sword Qi, blocking millions of the Demon Race.The Earth Chicken that babbled every day turned out to be a descendant of the Ancient Phoenix!Ahhhh!Her worldview collapsed!Zi Ji: “Senior sister, it's terrible! The Demon Emperor is leading an army of millions from the Demon Race towards us.”Guang Xiaoyu: “Senior brother, help!”(This is a story about the Demon Emperor’s rebirth, the Netherworld’s daughter’s reincarnation, the protagonist's pet-keeping journey, and a call to everyone to love and care for small animals!)

The holographic online game BOSS, Su Jiameng, crossed over from the game and discovered that she had turned from an abusive BOSS into a battered supporting character!In front, there's the scheming eldest sister reborn for revenge.Behind, there's the second sister with the all-powerful Mary Sue halo.Below, there are two little troublemakers causing mischief.Can't a person live a good life?Su Jiameng: My goal is to conquer the stars and seas with my son, refusing to engage in palace battles...Someone smiled and said: Sure, Xiao Meng, you earn money to support the family, I'll be responsible for being beautiful, how about it?Su Jiameng: “...”

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.”