While My Mage Wife Grinds, I Power Up Idly - Chapter 80: You’d Better Protect Me Well

Cote: There is Something Wrong With HikigayaBy: XiaokoPatient Profile:Patient: Hikigaya Hachiman, Year 1 Class D, Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High SchoolDiagnosis: Adolescence SyndromeCondition Overview: The patient claims to have woken up in a parallel world, where both his physical age and relationships have drastically changed!Yukinoshita Haruno is now his classmate.Shizuka-sensei is somehow teaching at Sobu Middle School...And before he knows it, he ends up in a prestigious school with a 100% graduation and employment rate, stepping onto a fate that even destiny itself cannot predict!

“How did you board the Astral Express, walk the Path of the Stars?”“Because I ended the Honkai, altered everyone's fate.”“So your first step on this path was becoming a hero?”“No, it was for survival, searching for a thigh to cling to.”“And then?”Ryan adjusted his glasses, his voice resounding.“I became the thigh.”

This is a story that follows the courtship between a stone from Hell and a god from Heaven that begins in the underworld and spans for three lifetimes in the mortal realm.

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.”