Level 4 Human in a Ruined World - Chapter 1

The most cherished Little Princess of the Dragon Clan has fallen on hard times, living in an era of scarce provisions. Thankfully, she had a grandmother who doted on her as much as life itself.She drank brown sugar water every day and ate chicken eggs for every meal, making her plump and fair-skinned; she also donned new clothes for every season. All the young women and newlywed brides from miles around were envious of her naturally good fortune.However, the Little Princess had her woes: she was a dragon, and she craved meat, meat, meat!!Watch as she flexed her Dragon's Prestige —With just a glimpse at the trees, wild chickens would stiffly drop to the ground.If she stood next to the river, the fish inside would voluntarily leap onto the shore.Merely standing still, wild rabbits would run into her thigh...And as the Dragon Clan were fiercely protective of their food, she would fight anyone who dared to snatch her eats.Her fierce reputation extended far and wide, causing children in her group to take detours around her.Many people sneered: “With such a greedy, delicate and fierce character, she will definitely remain unmarried!”A certain Great Demon King who followed her said, “Marry me and become my wife. My home has endless supplies of canned beef, beef jerky, Dabai rabbit milk candy, imported chocolates, and various kinds of meat...”

Possessed an extra with a single rune.After obtaining 7 runes directly according to the original Hidden Piece…A fraudulent rune called [Rune Hunter] was created.

Ashlock awoke in the courtyard of a demonic sect… as a tree.

A tree that eats people.

And one that grows stronger over time due to a daily sign-in system and cultivation.

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.”