Super Devouring System - Chapter 13 - Good Luck

As the final dragon lay defeated, Aaran stared at the sky while the rest celebrated.[Awaiting the gods’ response...]He clenched his fists, his heart pounding. A shred of hope flickered in his eyes, only to be extinguished like always.[The attained outcome was deemed unsatisfactory.]Aaran had seen the message for the twentieth time. He had become the gods’ plaything in their desire to witness the “perfect ending”.He regressed once again, but this time as a toddler and charm being the only stat he had.But something was amiss. The world he remembered had changed. Powers that did not exist before had taken hold of the world.Tired of following the traditional route, Aaran chose to fight darkness with darkness… as the gods’ chosen necromancer!

Yun Bixue is in dire straits—

After a cruel betrayal in the hands of people he thought he could trust, Ethan Carter lost everything—his idea, his future, even his life.But when he wakes up fifteen years in the past, he realizes fate has given him a second chance!And this time, he’s not alone.[Ding!][OmniTech System Activated!]With a system guiding him and access to groundbreaking technology decades ahead of its time, Ethan was about to rewrite history!Supercomputers? AI? Quantum processors? Bioengineering? The system provided blueprints to all.Now, armed with the knowledge of the future, Ethan will rise as a tech industry giant, crush his enemies, and build an empire that no one can overthrow!Wealth, power, and revenge—this time, he’s taking it all!

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.”