I Hate Systems - Chapter 942: Enlightened Difference

What does it feel like to find yourself inside the novel of an author you hated? How will you survive in a world that's filled with cliché? Well, something similar happened here.

Once there was an unpopular fantasy novel author. His life was pretty messed up—no, he made it messed up. And remember I said messed up, not sad.

Due to certain reasons, he ended up never having the life that an average teenage boy should have.

But soon he was freed from that life as he died due to a lovey-dovey couple. He was freed but he had regrets…after all, he didn’t make his life that way because he wanted to.

The things he did were the result of his condition and impulses.

It seems luck was on his side at that moment, seconds after he closed his eyes and died, those eyes opened again but this time they were gazing at a world different from his old one.

He got a second chance! Now he will live a new life, a life he wanted to live! This time he can live, grow old, and then die in a “normal” way! The way things should have happened in his former life.

Though it turns out he also had a good amount of bad luck on his side as well.

Later he found out that the world he reincarnated in was the same as the novel of an author he hated the most. The only person he never wanted to talk to again…he was reincarnated inside that very person’s novel.

This is his story! The story of the man who was known by the name “Zero” in his second life. The story of how he survived without plot armor in a world filled with cliché situations, only in the favor of the MC of that novel.

This is, Author’s Reincarnation in a Fantasy Setting!!

What is the most important thing about rebirth before the apocalypse? Grain storage? No, it’s trying to find the most important person in the past life! Reject the so-called relatives who have evil intentions!

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.”

On the night of Xiao Ke’s thirtieth birthday, he shared a table while drinking. The person he shared the table with was a cool man who fit all of his aesthetic desires. It was practically love at first sight.

He was thirty; he had reached that age where he was no longer the awkward twenty-something youth. He would pursue the one he liked without hesitation, no questions asked.

“I want you to give me a tattoo. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

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