Dungeon Defense - Volume 1 - Chapter 3 – Faceless Disease (Part 1)

Riku Barusak is a hard-working child. Despite possessing an innate superior physical strength and having withstood harsh training she fails to unlock her talent as a spiritualist. The failure results in her being thrown away by her family.

The notion of destiny is mysteriously unfathomable! Some fight to the death but fail to grasp it, ultimately regretting their journey on the path of immortality. Yet there are those who are born with great destiny, not only blessed with innate talent, their luck is defying the heavens. Heavenly Grade Techniques, rare treasures, Elixirs, no matter where they go, they encounter them! One day, the treasure-hoarding Clan Leader sent a message, “There are too many treasures, our Family’s Treasure Vault can’t hold them all!” Upon hearing this, Lin Tianming couldn’t help but smile wryly. “It seems like treasures have eyes of their own, always finding me when I go out, but this isn’t what I intended at all!” PS: This book is also known as “I don’t want to be the son of Qi Luck!” “I really don’t want to pick up garbage anymore!”

DING!![You killed a Level 3 Mutant Zombie for the first time!]-----DING!![You have crossed the limit of humanity! Entering the mutation stage!]-----DING!![Congratulations, user! You are now a being beyond human beings!]-----Being a good person cost him his life. When death sent him back, he vowed to take revenge and finish the job.Behind the icy cold that grips the world and the red light that fills the sky day and night, he must defy the zombie apocalypse.A safe house, unlimited food and drink, every conceivable weapon and a system to help him... But he has only two things on his mind: Survival and revenge.

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.”