I! Cleaner! - Chapter 553 - 488: Hay Fever and the Ironstone Rubik’s Cube

The strongest female assassin from a special assassination force met her death one day on a mission. To her surprise, she woke up in the body of a 13 year old girl, Mu Rong Liu Yue. Through Liu Yue’s past memories, she found out that she was bullied due to the huge birthmark on her face, even though she came from a renowned family. Liu Yue was beaten to death by her own cousin, and that’s how she managed to enter Liu Yue’s battered body. The assassin then decided to live her life as Liu Yue and swore to avenge her death.

“Gate Hunter,” a virtual reality game based on the modern hunter genre.

In that game, Kim Woojin overwhelmingly ranked No. 1.

〈Player.〉

〈Congratulations.〉

〈You have exceeded our standards and shown potential.〉

[Notification: The final stage, Stage 6, has been unlocked!]

With that message, he finds himself reincarnated as the son of a wealthy Chaebol within the game. But there’s a catch—he possesses no physical talent, only boundless wealth and a terrible body.

‘Fortunately, there’s a solution.’

In this world, a master’s talent doesn’t limit their summons, and equipment can be augmented. And the class capable of summoning the most powerful allies is…

“Necromancer, isn’t it?”

Say goodbye to the poor necromancers!

A true Chaebol Necromancer has arrived!”

One generation’s God King, Tang San, roams the cosmos with a trace of divine consciousness, searching for the world where his wife was reborn. Guided by his divine consciousness, he arrives to a place known as the Daemon Continent. However, to his astonishment, he discovers that in this world, humans are nothing but s*aves and cattle.

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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.”