Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince - Chapter 213: New Deal [1]

Su Bai, a novelist from Earth accidentally fell from the top of a cliff.When he woke up, he realised he had already transmigrated to another world. Furthermore, this was not just any world. It was a primitive other world with Humanoids.With his Daily Assistance System and extensive knowledge from modem society, some of which he learnt from being an author, he led his primitive Tribe out of poverty. There, little by little, he started to transform the era, to advance it forward!Uncovering mysterious of Shamans! Meeting more beast eared women! Farming!

Cillian Carter crossed into another world, a place where everyone is given the chance to become a god.In this world, people design their own personal Domain of Divinity.Some build peaceful fairy realms, filled with light and music.Others shape mighty dragon sanctuaries, or chaotic worlds of ancient magic and war.But Cillian built something different.The Endless Abyss.A world cold, brutal, and hostile to life itself.A place where the ground bleeds, the air burns, and survival is a daily struggle.No peace. No safety. No rules.Welcome to the Endless abyss

“Future Occupation…Demon King.”

Sai Akuto enters Constant Magic Academy to be useful to society and to become a top-ranked national magician. However, a horrible prediction is made on his first day. Thanks to this prediction, the class representative girl hates him, a girl with a mysterious power embraces him, a female artificial human is sent by the empire to observe him, and his school life is otherwise thrown into chaos…

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.”