Everyone Pampers the Small Blessing Who Has a Spatial Pocket! - Chapter 787: Checking the Water Source (2)

She became the nanny of Claude, the blackened male protagonist who would destroy the world. If this continues, she will be killed by the cursed power possessed by the blackened male protagonist. So, she decided to pour out her love for the blackened male protagonist to prevent the blackening. She also raised the child’s self-esteem, and made the Duke act like a proper father, as fatherly love was essential for the male protagonist’s self-esteem. She thought the child was gradually recovering his bright face, and the Duke was now learning how to gradually give love to the child. But she doesn’t know if it’s because she worked too hard….? “It has always been a problem. You have hundreds of reasons to abandon me, but I don’t have a single one.” “Nanny will always be by my side, right? That’s why you can’t go. Never, never.” Two men started obsessing over me.

The Demon Lord was as strong as a fly.

So when I swatted him away after sleeping in on the morning of the fight.

The world trembled and the goddess descended.

“Please... Please just fucking go back. I don't want to die.”

And sent me and the hero back to Earth.

Except she had taken away all my powers, and...

[Welcome to the Earth’s Apocalypse - Scenario 1 is currently in progress]

[Congratulations, you have been chosen by the Strongest Dragon God system, would you like to accept?]

HELL. NO.

A system is for losers.

……………………………………………………………

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When I woke up, my father was a nouveau riche whom everyone despised, and I had five great brothers: a black actor in the entertainment industry, a useless lawyer in the field of law, a sickly quack in the medical field, a plagiarizing dog in the design industry, and a school bully.

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.”