MTL - Global Job Change: I Can Increase Blue Infinitely - Chapter 125 Grasp the weakness! embarrassing expedition

Rowan was just a broke college dropout—until he was summoned to another world.Dragged into the war-torn realm of Laronia, Rowan stands beside four other chosen heroes, each blessed by prophecy… except him.While the others awaken to legendary powers and divine roles, Rowan receives a blank grimoire. No magic. No title. No future.Cast aside and marked a failure, he prepares for death—until the silence inside his grimoire begins to speak.The gods made a mistake. And this world is not ready for what lies beneath the Wordless Mage.

Trapped in the unspoken rules, eaten up by the devious boss, he can't stop, and is addicted to tangling with her.Between them, one swears never to yield, and the other insists on conquering.Asher Land swears, his biggest goal in this life is to transform Sophie Smith, the fierce little wild cat with sharp claws, into an obedient pet cat!

In a distant future, seven centuries after the cataclysmic mana storm, the world of Gaïa transformed into a realm infused with magic. The fabric of reality shifted, revealing the manifestation of stats, skills, and levels through ethereal windows, visible to all. A new era emerged, where humanity awoke to the concept of Classes, bestowing upon them unique abilities and the potential for greatness. However, only the truly exceptional would ascend to seize the Throne in this extraordinary Era of Players.Noah uttered profound words, his eyes shimmering with an unearthly force. “Life itself is akin to a prison, but fear not, for I, Death, shall set you free.”

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.”