Rebirth in Famine: She Thrives by Lucky Space - Chapter 400 invitation

I created a game character.Instead of taking several perks, I added restrictions.▶Restriction (I): “Curse of Sensory Seal”─Permanently seals a chosen sense.─Choice: Sight, Taste, Smell▶Restriction (II): “Curse of Short Life”─You are born with a body doomed to a short life.▶Restriction (III): “Curse of Silence”─Speaking causes you pain.When the next day came, I couldn’t see anything.

A dungeon core novel. But with bees. A bee dungeon, if you will. Oh, and something about a young man finding his place in the world and maybe learning about the deadly calamity that threatens all of humanity. But mostly the bee thing.

While they mine for gold, I dig graves.While they use healing ointment, I munch on graveyard grass.While they take Mana Potions, I light incense and candles.While they meditate to recover, I rest in a coffin,While they attack with magic, I retaliate by tossing paper money....Let's see how a skeleton turns the tables in an online game, stirring up chaos to become the ultimate boss!

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.”