My MCV and Doomsday - Chapter 626 - The Sword Club's Fall

Violet skies, a world undergoing massive changes, a deficient moon, interlinking voids…

I am a vampire, possessing the body of the villainess in the novel.

I want to live quietly so I can live peacefully.

When I saw the Duke of Esteban, I lost all my reason and bit his neck.

Duke of Esteban just so happens to be the greatest figure in the empire.

I didn’t have enough strength to fight the desire, so I slept with him…

I’m in trouble. Let’s erase his memory and run.

“Your Excellency asked me to convey a message ‘I let you have my neck and body, but you threw it all away and ran.’”

What are you saying?

Does he remember?

Later, there was a strange declaration of war after we met.

“Don’t avoid me and let’s continue to meet. Also, when you need blood, come find me.”

Duke, would you please stay away from me?

It’s hard to breathe because of your taste.

Traveling to the world of Hokage, Kamiyo Colt witnessed the chaos of the Nine Tails firsthand.Without any special powers initially, he planned to develop quietly and survive until the Infinite Tsukuyomi. However, when he first trained his Chakra, his system finally activated.The system's rules were simple:By healing others, he could gain random attributes and skills.“Heal Uzumaki Naruto to receive pure Ashura Chakra!”“Heal Uchiha Shisui to gain his bloodline talent!”“Heal Sasuke Uchiha to obtain pure Indra Chakra!”In this way, Colt steadily developed his abilities over more than ten years.During the Fourth Ninja World War, when the ninja coalition saw him suddenly knock out the Six Paths Madara with a single punch, he looked innocently back at them.“What? I'm a medical ninja. Doesn't it make sense to defeat him with one punch?”

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.”