Hellmode ~Gamer Who Likes to Speedrun Becomes Peerless in a Parallel World with Obsolete Setting~ - Chapter 32Vol. 1 - - Playing (2)

Claimed to be the greatest team in the history of the card film industry — “Mu Lei” is born. With even the elites of the academic world unable to decipher these cards’ structure, his powerful cards were able to unnerve even the federation, causing the greatest Card Creators and Card Fighters to grow frantic, triggering open battles and covert maneuvers among various interest groups — all behind the silhouette of Chen Mu. Although he was not the originator of the federation’s unrest, he was definitely the number one reason for continuously escalating it.

But things seem to be different from the history that he knows.In this strange land, ancient legends walk the earth. Here Witches, Manticores, Vampires, Werewolves, Sirens, Dragons and Krakens are all terrifyingly real.As if that weren’t enough, this is also the age of legendary rulers—Baldwin, Saladin, and Richard the Lionheart —each destined to shape history in a new wave of Crusades.Amidst bloodshed and glory, Lothar must use his only advantage—his Gacha System—to build his territory, summon legendary units, and carve out his legacy in a world where ambition reigns and power speaks.

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.”