KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess - Chapter 43: [] Don’t Judge A Book

Chen Chuan has transmigrated into a martial world and today is the day when he takes his entrance test for the most renowned academy in his city.With no prior martial training, his confidence stems from his second self, capable of absorbing damage and enhancing the power of his strikes.

Chiba has crossed, and the world of Naruto was born to the civilian orphans of the Nine-Tails Rebellion.

Reminds me of the upcoming battle.

Konoha’s collapse plan, Penn’s invasion, and fairy fights in the Fourth Ninja World War.

Chiba felt a headache.

As a commoner orphan with no cheating, no blood, no background, and mediocre talent, how can he survive and avoid hanging the southeast branch on the divine tree in the future?

Until one day, a mechanical electronic synthesis sound sounded.

“Congratulations, the world reset was successful. From this moment on, your life has become a game.”

Since then, Chiba has begun her own road of invincibility.

The Fourth Ninja World War.

Facing the super god-level boss Uchiha Madara who shouted “Do you want to dance too?”

Chiba said: I even want to dance!

- Description from novelbuddy

Resident Evil, natural disasters… Zombies, the ice age…

Through movies and video games, humans have been familiarized to these kinds of, “doomsdays.”

But nobody actually believes that any of those things would happen.

Though from childhood Su Lifeng was a person that could foresee disasters, he never thought that one day he would be foreseeing the end of the world:

In 100 days, the entire world would fall.

Humans would be near the point of extinction.

Su Lifeng took a large, deep breath upon awakening from this vision: “I need to bust a load to calm down…”

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”