MTL - Cthulhu Gonfalon - Chapter 9

Starting life as a college student is hard, but not as hard as dying on your very first day. Ali Asad was just your average guy, ready to start fresh in a new city for college. But when he jumped into traffic to save a mysterious woman, his good deed got him killed—fast and painfully. Just when he thought it was game over, he woke up alive... sort of. Turns out, the woman he saved, Carrisa, had a few tricks up her sleeve. Now resurrected as an immortal being and renamed Alicarde, he’s thrust into a world of ancient power struggles, dark magic, and impossible expectations. Bound to Carrisa’s fate, Alicarde quickly learns that being immortal isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Instead of focusing on classes or meeting new friends, he’s dodging dangerous foes, navigating Carrisa’s high-stakes supernatural battles, and trying to figure out just what his role is in all this madness. All while struggling with the fact that he really didn’t sign up for any of this. Thrown into a fight for survival with powers he barely understands and a fate that’s now intertwined with Carrisa’s, Alicarde has to adapt fast—or risk dying all over again, this time for good.

In this world, there is the beautiful mutual and telepathy love.

When Ye woke up, she found that everything had changed. His spiritual power is gone, and the beauty master is gone. He himself became a waste of the wealthy Ye Family, was forced to change his marriage, could not cultivate the waste, and countless people wanted his life. If you want to change your life, you can only rise strongly. Only the hand can cover the sky, the most powerful Wu Shen!

- Description from Ptwxz (translated)

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.”