Devil Slave (Satan system) - Chapter 15 1 Vs 4... Is It A Fair Fight?

With the revival of spiritual energy and the breakdown of the order of species, it is a difficult test whether human beings can still stand at the top of the biological chain.

(There is already an old book, The Strongest Descends in the City, you can read it.)

- Description from novelbuddy

After all, transmigrators of this era were no simple matter. Some became slimes, others turned into treasure chest monsters, and some were even reduced to mere skull--such things were all commonplace.It was nothing more than playing a villain, Shiayar didn't care. Wasn't it only natural to pay some price to become stronger?[Destined Great Villain System][“Let this world feel the agony!”][Newcomer Mission: Let the young and naive Grand Duke's daughter of the Azure Garden Dukedom, Miss Silvia, experience the betrayal of her loved ones and, amidst the pain and despair, complete her transformation and rebirth.]

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.”

It was in the year 2800 of the Midgard calendar. Back then, there was a Overlord who once reigned supreme and had reached the very brink of subduing the world.