MTL - She Become Sweet and Cuddly - Chapter 8

A boy wakes up with omnitrix as a X-GENE

The Non-Human Society is a shell of its former self. Its members are scattered and in hiding, and few if any have the will to fight any longer.Joining the Society, Renn has a single goal. To no longer be alone. Yet her membership comes at a price.Renn joins Vim, the Societies Protector, in hopes of preserving the last chance she has at finding a home and a place to belong.What to expect?- An immersive world-building and character focused story!- A typical, but fleshed out, low-fantasy world. Regrettably, the only numbers that go up here are the chapter and word counts...! And my debt, but let's not talk about that.- A more down to earth, sometimes somber story. But there is hope!- A huge world to get lost in. Lots of content. Over 1M words written already!- Side-Stories! Now released once a month.- A tiny sliver of my heart... forever yours!

Behind the successful man, there was often such an ex-girlfriend. She was beautiful and nice, but favored the rich and disdained the poor. She abandoned him in the most difficult period of the man’s career, left him with a huge psychological shadow so that he no longer believed in love.

In the novel, such an ex-girlfriend usually may not get a good ending, used to set off as the true mistress of the cannon fodder. Unfortunately, Ren Qiao transmigrated into the book and become the ex-girlfriend who dumped the male lead, but the male lead still went against the counterattack…..

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”