Bloodline Reckoning: The System Made Me Filthy Rich - Chapter 3: This Insult Must Stop!

“It was an era taken over by a single online game, the “”Second World.””

The “”Second World”” offered a vast amount of classes and skills...

Micheal, our protagonist, reincarnated back into this era and realized he had a few bugged passive skills that would put him as one of the best.

[Passive skill: Damage Reduction: When you receive damage from an enemy, the damage will be reduced accordingly to the reduction percentage. Skill lasts for 10 seconds and takes 10 seconds to cooldown.]

[Passive skill: Damage Reflect: When you receive damage, the damage will be reflected accordingly to the reflection percentage.]

[Passive skill: Damage Multiplier: When you deal damage to an enemy, the damage you dealt will be multiplied.]

[Passive skill: Sword Attack Nullifier: When you attack an enemy with a sword, the enemy will kneel in front of you and catch your blade with their bare hands.]

[Passive skill: Priest: When you suffer from damage, automatically heals yourself.]

[Passive skill…]

[Passive skill…]

.........

After reading through all his passive skills, he suddenly realized how invincible he as.

Even though he didn’t possessed a single active skill, he could still triumph over everyone else with his passive skills.

One day, when the “”Second World”” mysteriously merged with the real world, monsters and divine beings began to invade Earth…

That was when Micheal realized that his passive skills have also given him the power to kill these divine beings…”

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.”

As a virtuous wife, does it include tolerating his cousin, enduring his concubines, bearing his mother?

The Count of Chronia’s youngest son became a warlock to live.

……………………………………………………………

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