I Have Yet to Become a Doll Today - Chapter 477 - : One Hand

“I’m just a normal person who also has personal storage power.”When the next-gen VR game, Second World, finally arrived, the MC took a bottle of water out of his personal storage and took a sip before he was stunned.“T-this is inside the game, right?”From that day onward, he could bring in-game items out into the real world and vice versa. His life was completely changed.

Liu Ergou grew up in the village and studied medical skills with his grandfather. After his grandfather died, the responsibility of treating the villagers falls on him. But an accident bestows upon him an inheritance from his great-grandfather, which sets him on the path to invincibility!

I possessed the weakest character in my favorite game’s Hell Mode. I want to survive, but the way the main character is being controlled is atrocious.

It can’t be helped.

I have to stop the bad ending myself.

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.”