Eternal Emperor's Path to Ascension - Chapter 3: Mysterious Mighty Figure, A River Flowing Through A Higher Dimension

I was playing a boring game where you don’t level up no matter what you do, there’s no event happening and it was even FREE on *** store. I had an argument on relationship stuff, was angry and decided to destroy the village in a game, then a notification pop-up…

-Your karma has increased by 10.

-You are now at level 2.

Graphics of the game changed. Acquired magic. Saved a village girl that was chased by bandits. Gained a cultist.

It seems the events are starting to take place. Lets see what happens…

[Detecting the birth of a new god... Data traction in progress][Alert! Intrusion detected: %*#... Data traction interrupted][Divine Revelation Protocol activated. Initiating emergency replication. The Legion of Judges has been dispatched...][1%... 5%... 33%... 99%][Replication complete!][Rebooting and reconstructing the world...]…Becoming a god feels like a grand deception.Instead of ascending to the heavens, you awaken inside a mere clay idol.You have become a god—yet only the weakest, most nameless one.You don't even have a body of your own.[Detecting host awakening... Binding process initiated][Binding complete. Initial gift pack activated. Congratulations, host! You have obtained the talent: Tribute Hundredfold Amplification!][A believer offers you a pebble. You receive a Holy Crystal!][A believer offers you a wooden stick. You receive the Spear of Longinus!][A believer offers you a harmonica. You receive the Archangel’s Trumpet!]Good.”From this moment forth, the gods shall heed my command. Who stands with me, and who dares oppose?“Seated deep within the sacred temple, you gaze upon the vast cosmos at your feet, looking over the myriad realms with serene indifference.

It always starts with an accident.That’s how all these stories go. One moment, you’re minding your own business, and the next, you wake up in someone else’s body. For Caspian, his accident started earlier than he even knew.Maybe it began when his sister got him into romance novels? Or when he started really sympathizing with the villains at the ends of books? He’d never know. It was too late to worry about it now.For now, he had to find a way to fix this nightmare, or rehabilitate his image, all while trying to free himself from the fate set out for him. All because of the damn “gods” who he'd cut a deal with.These were the only two options he had available, and he wasn’t sure he could succeed at either. The man he had taken over for had been…a true piece of work. And the secret villain of the book he had been reading before he passed.It had been a harem novel. A reverse harem novel.He was trapped in a huge ass CASTLE with a bunch of men who hated him because he was taking affection and time away from their shared wife. All Cass wanted to do was be a good person, not mess around with this poor woman and her far too handsome husbands.But why would no one leave him alone? Was he too suspicious? And why, after going out of his way to avoid them like they had asked, did they keep pestering him?And where did the heroine go?How was he going to manage three, handsome men without the heroine?

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.”