Godly Model Creator - Chapter 0324 Model collapsed

“I am the rot in your foundation. I will crawl back from hell and bury this world.”Those were Red’s final words as his classmates—the people he once sought validation from—watched him dissolve. They stole his life force to fuel their own ascensions, becoming Paladins, Sages, and Kings. They threw his empty husk into the Abyss, satisfied the 'Terrorist's Son' was finally gone.But death was not the end. While his body lay broken in the abyss, his soul drifted to the sanctuary of a Forgotten God.Awakening the forbidden SSS-Rank Talent [Exponential Divinity - 100x Growth], Red realizes that in this world, power isn't given—it's built. He doesn't need heroes; he needs monsters.From the chitin of hyper-evolved insects to dragons, from eldritch horrors to the nightmares sleeping in the dark, he begins to construct a civilization that defies the natural order. Under his hand, the weak do not just survive—they evolve into calamities.The Heroes are leveling up in their golden towers. The Gods are watching from their thrones.But in the shadows, Red’s Strongest Civilization is already preparing for war.[Betrayed and sacrificed, I awakened an SSS-Rank Talent. While others struggle to build a village, my civilization grows 100x faster.]

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.

- Description from novelbuddy

"I want to run away from everything."

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.”