MTL - Enchantress Amongst Alchemists: Ghost King’s Wife (Phoenix Cry Firmament) - ~ 62. Did we know in our lifetime?

A man reborn, more interested in his next meal than clan politics, finds himself caught in a power play that could reshape Konoha.Uchiha Masashi has seen it all before - literally. With memories of his past lives and abilities that shouldn't be possible, he'd rather perfect his combat skills than deal with clan drama.But when the newly appointed Fourth Hokage shows up with a proposal to unleash the Uchiha's power beyond their traditional police role, even Masashi has to pay attention. The clan sees opportunity. The village sees profit. Masashi sees the threads of fate that once led to his clan's destruction starting to weave again.As the Uchiha rush to prove themselves “ten times better than the Hyūga,” Masashi walks a fine line between duty and survival.He knows too much - about the Nine-Tails incident that could destroy his clan's reputation, about young Shisui's tragic destiny, about the wheels already in motion.The question is: will he bother trying to change any of it?After all, in a world where even the strongest must sometimes bend to fate, sometimes the smartest move is to grab some dango and watch it all unfold.

Losing his parent early on, he had to survive in a world he couldn´t even see… Blind and left alone, he was seen as a parasite by the social hierarchy of the new ages filled with martial arts and soulbonds

“Be better”

Peter was cursed by those words, the very last words of his dying mother.

Cursed to be better. To be above the small squabbles... And so, the last five years of his childhood, he spent as a target of bullying, both in school and in his adoptive, step-family.

But it all changed, when a portal to another world appeared in the middle of his shed!

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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.”