Seoul Station’s Necromancer - Chapter 47 - Dungeon Break

WPC APRIL WINNER 2024Orion had worked hard his whole life, but success always eluded him.He couldn’t cross the threshold that required him to and got plunged into the abyss of despair because of it. However, life gave everyone a second chance. Orion also got one, and he put his soul and sweat on it, but he still failed to grasp that chance.As a result, he died.But when he thought it was all over for him, he found himself reincarnated in the world of fantasy, where every individual boasted super talents and devastating curses on themselves.He also had a talent, but he didn’t know what to make of it as his talent was “Copy Curse.”He could only copy other people’s curses.“Why? Why, god, why? Why do you have to reincarnate me and give me this shitty talent?”As if God had heard his plea, something appeared in his field of vision.[Congratulation to the host for awakening the system.][Talent: Copy Curse — Host can copy other people’s curses.][Curse: Null Body — Host’s body can’t feel mana because of this body.]“What the hell! My talent is already shit, but this freaking curse has to make things worse for me.”However, what Orion didn’t know was that, with the crazy combination of his talent and curse, he had the ability to become the strongest being in the three domains.

Yu Fei was sabotaged by her peers at a celebratory gala. They pushed her into a hotel room, but it turned out to be the wrong one! The four men who were hired ended up waiting for nothing the entire night. Meanwhile, Yu Fei found herself crossing paths with the noblest and most dangerous man in Nan City!

Ever since then, the cold Mr. Feng began pampering his wife endlessly. She liked making movies, and so he casually invested several hundred million. He’d let her become an internationally acclaimed director and celebrity if that’s what she wanted!

“I, Feng Yi, want to pamper this woman. Does anybody have a problem with that?” Mr. Feng asked.

One day, a reporter asked him this question. “Mr. Feng, what do you do when you get home each day?”

“I spend time with my wife,” he answered.

“Are you showing your affection for her?” The audience thought out loud.

“Mr. Feng, what’s your hobby?” The reporter asked.

“Spending time with my wife,” he answered.

“That’s impossible… Absolutely impossible!” The audience exclaimed.

“Mr. Feng, what is most important to you?” The reporter asked.

“Spending time with my wife,” he answered.

“Do you think you’re the only person with a wife?” The audience asked.

The bigshot, who was rumored to be a cold and merciless man, actually loved his wife to pieces. His greatest hobby was to pamper his wife in every way imaginable!

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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.”

When she was ten, she said, “When I grow up, I want to be the President!”“It's impossible, but you can be the President's wife,” he replied.He gazed at her tenderly. His youthful eyes filled with deep affection, as if he wanted to give her the whole world.When she was thirty-three, due to a leak of military secrets, she was imprisoned for treason, and she saw his signature on the death sentence document.She finally understood that the so-called undying love was fake, and that power and status were the true goals.Love is just like a ghost—more talked about than seen....Reborn and back to the age of twenty, she opened her eyes and shouted, “I must be the President!”“But, Madam... Your husband is already the President,” someone said.She was stunned for only a second, then viciously replied, “Then I'll take him down first, and I'll become the President!”A man gently pushed open the half-closed door, chuckling softly, “Did I hear wrong? Sweetie, you want to... take me down?”