Pokemon: Reborn Rich Alternate Earth - Chapter 29: Excellent Poliwag

Shuu is a member of the literary club that can’t write. One day, he gets a mysterious message on his phone from a girl called Eina, and from that impulsive contact, they begin to exchange messages. They talk of things like their shared interest in novels and grow close. However, when they try and meet, they discover a shocking truth. Eina lives… not in the present, but five years in the past! How will their love develop, parted by five years of nights…!?

“In misfortune awaits fortune.”In a universe where Gods dwell on the highest floors of the Tower, an Arcana Card for immense good luck was created. To balance this, a devastating misfortune card was also born. Unbeknownst to the Gods, both cards slipped out of the Tower and went unnoticed.Julien, cursed by the card of immense bad luck, lived a life where death shadowed his every move, and the Grim Reaper’s blade seemed ever-present. His first life ended in despair, but at the height of his misfortune, a glimmer of hope emerged when a mysterious entity offered him a deal.The deal: conquer the Tower and fulfill her request, in exchange for a chance at a better life after reincarnation. With the Eternal•Lust System granted by this enigmatic entity, Julien embarks on a perilous journey to ascend the Tower and become the one and only—Grand Lust Sovereign.

I met the male lead in prison.

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.”