MTL - Overturned Tower - v2 Chapter 29 real outcast

Elaine is ripped from this world to Pallos, a land of unlimited possibilities made real by a grand System governing classes, skills, and magic.An ideal society? What is this, a fantasy novel?Adventures? Right this way!A Grand quest? Nah.Friends and loot? Heck yes!Humans are the top dog? Nope, dinosaur food.Healing and fighting? Well, everything is trying to eat her.Join Elaine as she travels around Pallos, discovering all the wonders and mysteries of the world, trying to find a place where she belongs, hunting those elusive mangos, all while the ominous Dragoneye Moons watch her every move.

In the nation of Avrael, power is both a blessing and a curse. Sixteen-year-old Ayato Daath, a poor orphan, had always hoped to live unnoticed in the shadows of the city. But when he is forced to undergo The Rite of Manifestation, the ritual that determines one’s magical potential, his worst fear comes true—he is an Elite.Now torn from the only life he’s ever known, Ayato is thrust into a brutal world of magic, bloodshed, and treacherous politics. In a society where the strong prey on the weak, where rival factions scheme in the dark, and where a single misstep could mean death, Ayato must quickly learn one thing—adapt, or perish. And one thing Ayato already knows is that in Avrael, only the ruthless survive.

A scheme led to a cute baby for them.

Several years later, she met her former lover once again.

The iceberg-like president turned into a big wolf full of desire!

He stayed together with her all the time, disproving rumors with acts.

She only wanted to say that rumors truly hurt.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”