Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 - Chapter 712: Three stages to inheritance

Ethan, a high school student that died alongside his bully transmigrated into another world.Ethan awakened in a parallel world, one where supernatural talents determined your worth, and the talentless serve as expendable cannon fodder.Born talentless in this new world, Ethan finds himself assigned as cannon fodder against the monster hordes that threaten humanity.But his death in the previous world seemed to have granted him a supreme Talent.Follow the story of Ethan as he awakens the strongest talent and strives to become the world's Strongest.

In a world where everyone changes jobs, I actually awakened to a unique dual career.

And a life-defying career?

High-quality items to cherish? I synthesize directly.

Cherish high-quality skills? I synthesize directly.

Senior pet cherish? I continue to synthesize, wait, how did this beast girl become so big after synthesis?

Let’s start with the synthesis of three skeleton summoning books…

Synthesis – [Undead Army]

Three more dark staffs to synthesize…

Synthesis – [Death Scepter]

The game competition of billions of races in the universe, our solar system, can we earthlings stand on a broader stage!

…

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”