Paragon of Destruction - Chapter 239 A Palace of One's Own

On one spring evening when I was eight years old, I, Erica, Duke of Aurelia’s daughter, realized something.

Huh, I have reincarnated into a fantasy world, haven’t I?

Moreover, it was the romance-fantasy girl game that had the reputation of being bloody, 『Liber Monstrorum ~Phantom Beasts and the Winter Princess~』

The face reflected in the mirror was that of the villainess character of that game.

After repeatedly harassing many characters, including the heroine, she would die without exception, signaling the beginning of an event called the bizarre incident. She was a villain who deserved to get the consequences!

—I absolutely don’t want a destiny like that, though?

No, for me who has remembered the memory of my previous life, there would be no such thing.

In my previous life, I was harassed immensely by an irrationally angry yandere man who proclaimed ‘She is absolutely in love with me.’

My cause of death, too, was from being stabbed by another yandere man who I only had talked with a few times……

Now that I have become the haughty villainess Erica, I shouldn’t encounter more misunderstandings like with the previous life’s yandere men anymore, right……?

In that case, it will be fine as long as I deal with the death flags that I may have raised myself.

All right! First of all, before the bizarre incident begins at the Magic Academy, I will strike down the death flags accordingly!!

—Or so I thought, but it seems that I am about to die.

Eeh, how did this happen—!?

Lu Chuan discovers that he becomes a zombie after transmigrating to this apocalypse world.Just when he couldn't bear the loneliness and wants to end it all, Lu unexpectedly finds a baby girl who is about to starve to death.From then on, he becomes a zombie babysitter and is no longer all alone, but he doesn't know the baby girl is actually a reborn Empress“This zombie seemed to not intend to eat me, but fed me milk powder, changed my diapers...”“Wait, it seems he is raising me as his daughter!”

Victoria Monroe worked hard for three years during their hidden marriage to get pregnant, and she finally was, only to discover that he had a child with someone else.She proposed a divorce but was refused, and when she attempted to return to work, she found numerous obstacles.It turned out that this marriage was something he had planned for a long time, using the bond of marriage to cage her, clipping her wings and imprisoning her by his side.Sickly and obsessive, he whispered in her ear, “Victoria, no one else in this world loves you more than I do, don't even think about escaping!”But he was unaware that his beloved wife was already pregnant with his child.On a stormy night, as he rushed towards the child in the mistress's womb, blood soaked beneath Victoria Monroe.Eighteen years of affection were buried here, and she was utterly disheartened, leaving decisively.Later, at the engagement banquet of The Portoros Circle's Crown Prince, he finally found his little rose.Victoria Monroe, dressed in a magnificent gown, stunning beyond compare, was hailed as the Portoros Circle's Crown Prince, who knelt on one knee, reverently and restrainedly kissing the back of her hand.The always noble President Fordham was red-eyed and went mad...

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.”