MTL - Shoujo Grand Summoning - ~ 518 Get the blush of Little Fran! ...

Su Mu took the player panel.

Came to the game world 10,000 years in advance.

The most common talent for players has been drawn:

…immortality.

However…

Although longevity, level experience is locked, what should I do if I can’t upgrade and become stronger?

Only practice, practice, practice!

There is no time in the cave, and a thousand years have passed.

On his way out, he found…

The girl I rescued casually back then actually created a tribe for me? !

Become a tribal totem yourself? !

…

Five thousand years later, the first batch of beta players arrived.

They looked at the totem statue standing in the first tribe, and looked at each other…

“This is the system introduction, a very easy to kill level 1 boss?!”

- Description from novelbuddy

Kazura was selected as the winner on a lottery that he bought on a whim and received ¥4,000,000,000 (4 billion yen).

Behind the calm smile lies a heart riddled with scars.Beneath the weight of fate burns an unyielding gaze.A body trapped in the abyss of despair—if it reaches out, can it grasp the light called hope?A soul locked upon the rack of destiny—if it prays sincerely, can it embrace the future called redemption?

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.”