A Royal Obligation - Chapter 47: It is What it is

[Congratulations. You have met the requirements to become a Cursed One! Your fate has been changed!]What did it mean? Ragna was a transmigrator, reborn into this world as a Cursed One. But what was a Cursed One, they were the demon spawsns aclaimed to be the son's of the devil himselfA black screen with white text appeared before him, and he felt a sense of trepidation.[ Request Accepted ][ Status Screen Unfolding ]Character Name: Ragna RingwoodTitles: Cursed OneAge: an hour oldSex: MaleRace: UnknownLevel: 0Exp:0/100HP: 5/10[Attributes]Mana: 10Strength: 10Agility: 10Vitality: 10Mana Sense: 10Bloodline: (Unknown)???????Skills: NoneRagna's eyes widened as he stared at the screen. He was a Cursed One, with unknown abilities and powers. The thought sent a surge of excitement through him.

Hua Jin Lan, a 21st century assassin, was tied up by her sister and thrown into the sea. When her eyes reopened, she had became the daughter, with the same name, of a martial arts family in the Yue dynasty. Some say that the daughter was worthless and just a pretty face; some say she was shameless and proposed to 5 different men a total of 10 times; some say she was a ruthless person and when unable to obtain love she turns to love potions. She was exposed thus while bearing both shame and resentment she jumps into the river and commits suicide……Wait what?

After Lin Xu died, she discovered that the world she was in was a novel.Her eldest son liked to imprison the female protagonist of the novel, engaging in sinister villainous acts with a dark room play.Her youngest son would unfailingly draw substitute’s blood and snatch substitutes’ kidneys for the female protagonist’s legal antagonist — his unrequited love.Her only daughter was the romantic fool forever revolving around the male protagonist of the novel.If children are not disciplined, the mother is to blame. After being reborn, Lin Xu felt she should step in and discipline her wayward children.However, before she could take action, her eldest son’s dark, handsome, and usually cold face blushed slightly as he asked in a low voice, “Can I touch my head?”The middle son snorted and turned his head, his tone petulant, “I… I don’t want to go home, but if you insist, I’ll do it begrudgingly.”The youngest daughter rushed over, mercilessly pushing her brothers aside, “Mom, come and teach me how to solve this problem~”Latter, both sons fought over the bowl of noodles Lin Xu cooked. What was a novel’s female protagonist? Nothing compared to their mother.The daughter transformed herself, letting nothing from any novel’s male protagonist interfere with her studies!The family was blissfully happy.Latter, the revived, amnesiac husband suddenly appeared, cornering her against the wall, his eyes full of struggle, “Even if you’re married, I still love you.”Lin Xu pretended to be serious, “Is that so, then what should we do?”He hugged her tightly, his voice muffled and pained, “Divorce him!”Lin Xu chuckled secretly, “I’ll divorce him right away.”Latter, after the husband regained his memory, he said through gritted teeth, “Over my dead body will we divorce!”

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.”