MTL - I’m Fighting Back In the Ninja World with Spells - Chapter 270 God help Afei

People say, follow the destiny.

Traveling through time to become the despised descendant of the Shen family, the royal family gave him the proud daughter of heaven.

The proud daughter of heaven is pleased with the son of the Shen family, and the Shen family does not want to marry such a fairy.

Everyone said that this down-and-out young man should accept his fate, how could he climb up to heaven’s pride.

But even though it is called the destiny, it is not a human matter!

- Description from novelbuddy

All I ever wanted was for famous detectives like Sherlock Holmes or Arsène Lupin to appear in my dreams and share their wisdom. But instead, why am I hearing the voices of notorious serial killers in my head, guiding me to solve a string of mysterious cases?

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.”