I Became a Magical Girl In a Harem Manga - Chapter 87 - A Familiar Face

A wedding forged in vengeance, where love is the only risk they never planned for.“Let's get married,” Mia says, her voice trembling despite the fire in her eyes as she meets Stefan's guarded gaze. She needs this—needs him—even if he looks at her like she's just another complication.Stefan arches a brow, unimpressed. “And why would I do that?”“We both know what it's like to be betrayed by the men who raised us,” she replies, refusing to back down. “They stole our birthrights and handed them to someone else. The only difference is… you're the illegitimate one. I'm not.”He studies her—this heiress in designer armor, hiding rage beneath polish. “So your grand plan is a wedding band as revenge?”“No,” she says, stepping closer, close enough for him to smell the jasmine and gunpowder. “It's the only weapon they won't see coming.”Their fathers built empires by manipulation and control. Now, their children are making a vow—to burn it all down.Two shattered heirs. One dangerous alliance. A marriage built on vengeance.Mia Meyers was born to inherit her father's empire—until he handed it to his bastard son instead. Stefan Sterling knows rejection too well, discarded by a father who only valued power. Now, these rivals-turned-co-conspirators hatch a plan: marry for revenge, crush their fathers' legacies, and take what should've always been theirs.No love. No feelings. No divorce.But as lines blur between strategy and obsession, the real question becomes: can two enemies survive a marriage built not on trust—but on spite?

“Miss, since you came back, every three days there will be someone who start a rumor to slander you……”

In this world, human are in peril. 72 Obelisks suddenly appeared out of nowhere, infecting the world with Monsters. Amongst this chaos, people look for hope.

A man named Basil Pacifer is the humanity's hope. He is the strongest Mage alive at that point. Sadly, he believes in no man, and he always moves alone.

...

Basil observes the unfolding scene bitterly. He is aware of his impending doom, however he has no grudge. He has lived long enough to achieve things people can only dream about.

Looking back to his past, he realized his life is nothing more than a sad story.

Closing his eyes, he accepted his end — or so he thought.

...

”Look at me! What do you see?“

”Regrets.“

”Don't you want to undo it?“

”Tell me what the offer is.“

Thus, Basil Pacifer returned to the past, being his younger self once again. Of course, he returned back with something.

...

[Ding!]

[Guide to Omniscience is successfully merged with The Chosen One]

[Analyzing The Chosen One's mental capability...]

[Analyzation Complete!]

[Result: The Chosen One is retarded]

[Initiate Brain Configuration!]

No matter how useless the golden finger he received seems, he will reach a higher height than his last life. This time, he will completely erase any regrets he has!

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.”