Spare Me, Great Lord! - Chapter 1262: Messenger

twelve years ago.

The queen gave birth to a princess, who claimed to be the prince, named Xia Shimin.

three years ago.

Xia Shimin was established as the prince, and made a marriage contract with the current Taifu’s daughter to stabilize the imperial power.

…

Zhang Ronghua had traveled through time when she was born, hereditary and hereditary, her roots were straight and her roots were straight, and she was an upright Forbidden Army. He had been in the palace for fifteen years, and his talent would increase a little with each passing day.

Seeing that the prince’s wedding was getting closer, he accidentally broke the body of the prince’s daughter.

The night of the wedding.

Prince: “You can replace the lonely bridal chamber!”

- Description from novelbuddy

Four years ago, the first-ever Armageddon Class Anima appeared on Earth, destroying everything that it touched and threatening the lives of the entire world's population! But along with it came Superhumans that had the blessing of mana. They rose up to fight against the Armageddon, and leading them was the strongest Superhuman, KING.After two days and three nights of nonstop battle, KING gave his life to stop the Armageddon and give the Superhumans a fighting chance against the invading Anima, and everyone in the world remembers his good deeds and sacrifice!...Mark was just an average Superhuman living in City A. His daily routine was skipping classes and hanging out with his only two friends while hunting for Anima in secret whenever he could. But this easy life was not going to last for long as the hidden power he sacrificed a long time ago began to awaken once more![Initializing Superhuman System...][Recognizing Host... Host Recognized.][Parsing Constitution. Host Fully Healed. No Traces Of Residual Damage.]“Hello once again, Mark Vanitas. Has it already been four years?”

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.”