I Became a Gallery Manager in Another World - Chapter 171: The Thief Is First-Class, But The Pussy Is Third-Class (3)

Magic. It is a product of neither legends nor fairy tales, but instead has become a technology of reality since a time unknown to people. Supernatural power became a technology systematized through magic, while magic became a technical skill. A “Supernatural Power User” became a “Magic Technician”. Magic Technicians (in short, Magicians) are nurtured through Magic High Schools and Universities. This is a story about: A defective elder brother and low achiever. A perfect, flawless younger sister and high achiever. After both siblings entered a Magic High School, The stage of daily turbulence was unveiled —.

[Ding!! Ultimate Cash System Awakened ][Ding!! Mission: Study for One Hour. Minimum Reward: 1000$][Ding!! Mission: Greet the campus beauty. Minimum Reward: 600$]Lukas, dying a tragic death regressed back in time; the first thing he did was study hard and get into an Ivy League university. Last time he died like a homeless dog who couldn't even afford food on the street, so he vowed to change that this time around.Lukas still remembers who was behind his demise but decided to make himself wealthy first because he knows revenge is a dish poor people can't afford. With his “Ultimate Cash System,” he's going to become ultra-rich and crush those bugs along the way.Additional Tags:#nontr#noyuri#famousprotagonist#handsomeprotagonist#lightcomedy#regression

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.”

The only Paladin of the forgotten god, Nameless Chaos, and also the only Pope, Priest, and Worshipper.