Returning From Level 900 - Chapter 31

Bro, I mean, I'm just a tad handsome, a bit skillful, and slightly crafty, that's all! Why do you all have to make my life difficult? This incessant pestering isn't the answer, is it?What? You'll marry no one else but me? No...you...how could you? Without even asking for my consent?

I fell into a harem manga and became a magical girl.I just wanted to become a government employee and live a carefree life without getting involved with the main characters, but…“I love you.”The main heroine, who was supposed to confess to the protagonist, confessed to me instead.…Why?

(Mountain hunting + Animals + Rural Daily Life + Light Livestreaming + Farm Construction + Relaxed)Offline:“Who in Changbai Mountain doesn't know that this leopard is my underling? Ask anyone, they all know!”Livestream:“Let me make it clear beforehand, I have absolutely no ties with this leopard.”“It approached me on its own.”“I'm not familiar with it, really not familiar.”“You guys are slandering me, you're slandering me!”Viewers watching the leopard cozying up to the streamer:“With both human and leopard as witnesses, you still want to deny it?”“Go on, we're listening.”

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.”