MTL - The Lord of the Rings: Lords of Middle-earth - Chapter 261 Fire of Udon

VOLK SMAAAAASSH!Reincarnated with a body like a nuclear bomb, let's turn this magical world into a nuclear wasteland!As someone who loved fighting, Volk Mogger was the most miserable of them all.Born with a small frame, tiny limbs, and underdeveloped muscles, he struggled to grasp anything that was taught to him. He was relegated to merely watching others fight—whether on the internet, on television, or in real life.One day, while riding in his wheelchair, he was abducted and taken to a strange place for a radioactive experiment, which ultimately failed.However, Volk soon discovered that he had been reincarnated in a magical world as a member of an Orc horde, which was hunted by higher life forms despite merely wanting to establish a land where they could honor their traditions and build a home alongside their symbiotic partners, the Elven Witch races.Suddenly, a system screen appeared before Volk, announcing that he had acquired the power to transform into an invincible radioactive titan who yearns to be the strongest of them all.However, this transformation had a time limit, and to extend that limit, he had to win! But win what?Ding!| Beat up the Orcs thief who stole your spoil and a chance to have a wife!| Reward: Extend the radioactive time to 2 minutes.| Failure: Minus 1 minute.| Current radioactive time: 2 minutes. |

What happens when you really want to protect someone but feel weak?Will you let it all consumme you? Or will you fight for it.Watch as insanity consumes our main character Bael as he works his fucking body out to protect those who are dear to him.(A/N: Please show support for more!)

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.”

There is a very strange restaurant in the City of Sin.