MTL - Rebirth In The Novel: Indulging The Female Side Character - Chapter 156

I was thrown into a novel that hasn’t even been completed yet (and turned into a girl…), guided by the omnipresent voice of the unreasonable, amateur Author as he writes the web novel. I have no idea what’s going on, so I have to stick close to the main character to make sure I don’t hit a bad end…Why are you treating only me like this!I’m not suspicious, believe me.I’m a harmless person.“A villain? Not at all.”

The world is in an age of change between the old and the new society, and the collision of politics, economy, thought and culture is becoming more and more violent.

Moster Verak, a photographer from the slums of Zward City, was reborn two months ago, starting from impersonating the son of a consortium again, stirring everything and subverting the world in the turmoil of rapid industrial development and wild expansion of ambition.

[Overhead world, please do not compare reality]

- Description from novelbuddy

A man is reborn into the world of Avatar: The Last Air Bender as a waterbender from Katara's tribe. Best of all, he was the same age as her, and he had a system with him to help.He knows the future and a system that lets him continuously get stronger by completing quests or long-term missions, as well as giving him the ability to copy abilities from others for himself. He will become invincible in the world of Avatar, even more so than the Avatar himself.

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.”