PREVIEW

... the dark red sun suddenly began to tremble violently, and at the same time, it was beginning to expand and shrink erratically as if it had become a living creature.

Immediately thereafter, a burst of white light erupted out of its surface, following which the entire sun was split into two before dissipating into specks of dark red light.

As a result, Bone Emperor was revealed, and he was completely unscathed.

The ghostly flames in his eye sockets were dancing with fury, b ...

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In a world where Heroes are the last line of defence against threats, 17 year-old Zane Skylark, was the most powerful of them all—a symbol of strength and justice. Known as the “Rank-1 Hero, [Hope].”[Hope's] every move was praised by the masses, and his victories were legendary.But during a mission, [Hope] is believed to have died, but only to survive due to an unknown skill—[Immortality].For 60 long days, Zane's lifeless body remains inactive, as the [Hero Association] declares him dead and appoints a new hero who can mimic Zane’s strength under his hero name [Hope].After resurrected.“What's... Happening?”“Didn't I... Die?..”“Immortality?”Zane finds himself in a confused situation.“After everything I did for them...”After finding [Hero Association] betrayal, he decided to distance himself from them.“It's been... almost 3 years. ”“Maybe I should return home.”He decided to return to his hometown, hoping to bury his past and lead a peaceful existence.But... can a hero truly abandon their destiny? Or will new challenges will force Zane to confront his past self and the responsibilities he has left behind?

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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.”

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He slays saints and buddhas in Heaven, slaughters demons and devils in Hell, sweeping away all the grievances in his heart.