MTL - Magic Tower Starry Sky - Chapter 42 tower evaluation

Dale Mitchell, your average guy in a below-average job. But, what happens to him is anything but average. After hitting someone in his truck, his world was turned upside down, inside out, and more than fifty shades of grey.

Now, he seems to be something called a World Keeper, and must create and manage his own world. Is this his afterlife, or something else entirely?

How good would it be to live in a game world you loved the most… right after your death?Well, that’s exactly what happened to César in the worst way possible.While fighting cancer on his deathbed, he played a game where he could live as a cartel member, part of the mafia, building his own empire and climbing to the top. But when the time came and he died… he woke up in that exact game.He woke up in Sandria, a world ruled by power, money, and death.

“Miss, since you came back, every three days there will be someone who start a rumor to slander you……”

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.”