My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting - Chapter 282 – The Weaponsmithing Contest, Masters Showing Their Flair - Part 1

Once an imperial princess, now reborn among the lowest of s*aves of the nobility.

Aoki’s resolute face was indifferent. “If the sun doesn’t shine on me, please let me be surrounded by darkness!”
From a different perspective, look at the entire Pokemons world.

- Description from Uukanshu

Read the first six chapters, and you won’t be able to stop.Elliot Crown was just an ordinary teenager......boring life, average grades, nothing special. But one day, he unlocked a terrifying ability: he could hear people’s thoughts… but only if he knew their name and age first.At first, he treated it as a game, exploiting secrets, manipulating people, and bending reality to his will.But then, the nightmare began.One night, he fell asleep in his world—only to wake up in another. No explanation. No way back. Just an unfamiliar world filled with danger.He tried using his ability, desperate for answers.And then… he died.But that wasn’t the end.He woke up again........in a different world. New body. New identity. Same fate.Over and over, the cycle continued. Sometimes a prince, sometimes a slave, a soldier, a sorcerer, a demon… but every time, he met the same cruel fate.Yet Elliot didn’t care. As long as he had his power, he would manipulate, deceive, and twist the world to his will. If the universe wanted to play games with him… then he would play to win.

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.”