Endless Path : Infinite Cosmos - Chapter 1835 Remnants of a Bygone Era

Travel across different worlds and become a fallen aristocratic lord. With the help of the proficiency panel, you can start your liver experience with the ancestral knight breathing method, follow the wizard’s footsteps step by step, and embark on a bizarre and mysterious journey.

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“That monster’s prefix is two hundred meters long?!”“It’s back. Who can stop it?”Isaac never planned for Celestia: The Eternal Realms to change his life. The game promised 100% immersion, a completely realistic world powered by quantum brainwave interfaces. But the moment he entered the game, Isaac was thrown into an entirely new world, no longer the player, but the played. His character, a “Lesser Hyena-Wolf,” came with the dreaded “Weak” prefix, reducing his stats by 20%.Isaac quickly realized that this wasn’t a game he could simply log out of. It was his new life, and there was no escape. To survive, he had to evolve, to fight, and ultimately, to conquer. He knew the game inside and out, but this wasn’t the same reality he’d logged into. This time, he would have to become the monster, instead of fearing it.Every step he took, Isaac grew stronger. He realized that monsters weren’t bound by the same rules that governed the players. He could evolve, gaining new powers and unlocking Monster Reputation. With every kill, every victory, he unlocked a new level of power. The prefixes that marked his growth—Normal, Strong, Especially Strong—were a testament to his evolution. And the players began to whisper.

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.”