God-level Hero - Chapter 11 - 8 The Two Who Encountered the BOSS

When Linger was looking for a job, he applied for a bartender at a bar, but the guests who came here seemed strange.

What can a female warrior wearing very little, an armor that can’t even protect her eyesight, protect against?

How did the calamity mage who owed a hundred luck points survive until now?

Melancholic and lonely Skeletor, Skeleton? drink wine? Please don’t waste it!

The devil who likes the hero, since he is the devil, please do your job well, OK?

…

Well, he was getting used to these strange guests.

(Unknown Uncomfortable Sky: “Presenting Fine Wine for a Wonderful Different World”, “Sword and Magic and Beautiful Girls”, “Wine of Beautiful Girls”, “God-level Bartender of the Other World”, “I’m Really Not the God of Dionysus”)

- Description from novelbuddy

He is handsome, arrogant and is of the elite class. Being straightforward and brave, she shamelessly pursued him, sending him gifts, flowers and tried to get close to him. She was humiliated when his staff gossiped about her and retreated. Then he rejected her and told her they could only be friends. She avoided him but no matter how much she tried, they frequently cross paths.

Suddenly one day he told her. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

What a mess! ! !

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.”

My name is Joo In-gong. The name that my parents gave me meant ‘protagonist’ of the world. Really?