After Stealing Hero's Mother, I Reincarnated in the Fantasy World! - Chapter 98: Cute Honey Bunny Costume {Deluxe Edition}

How can there be any invincibility?

How can there be any Xeon undefeated?

No one in this world can be eternally number one, anyone can be defeated.

including me.

I’ve been waiting for that one person to show up, beat me, tell me that my way is wrong.

It’s a pity that that person hasn’t come yet.

…

False martial arts: strengthen yourself, break the limits of the human body, and resist bullets with flesh and blood.

Real martial arts: use the magnetic field of life to dominate the magnetic field of the stars, use the small universe of the human body to attract the power of the big universe, travel the starry sky, and smash the planet.

- Description from novelbuddy

The summer I was 17. A painting I created was sold. For 1.4 billion won.

On 1977, Voyager I took flight.

On 2010, Voyager II sent some rather strange information back to Earth.

On July, 2021, Voyager II lost contact with Earth four years before the planned date.

At the start of the 26th century, civilization on Earth was isolated and held in captivity.

At 10 a.m. on October 27th, 3020, humankind went extinct.

One year before the extinction, an ordinary youth

Harrison Clark from the 21st century travelled forward in time and arrived a thousand years into the

future. He discovered that after he died, he would be returned back to the

21st century.

Reading history in the future and changing the future in history.

In this seemingly never-ending cycle,

Harrison Clark began to look for that one glimmer of hope for both himself and humankind.

……………………………………………………………

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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.”