I Love Destroying Worlds' Plot [BL] - Chapter 1785 - 24.46 Sixth Violet Star - The Abyss

Life is unpredictable. Her husband loved her stepsister, deposed her as Empress and even forced her son to death. In that Cold Palace, she was forced to drink poisonous wine. So in the next lifetime, she made a promise to never do good deeds and help others, to never step into the palace and to never become the Empress!

Fuck me.I was just trying to pull my favorite character from a gacha game — Trafalgar du Morgain. The legendary swordsman. The cursed heir. The tragic side story no one cared to fix.Discarded by his clan. Humiliated by his siblings. Dead by suicide before the main plot even began.Guess who woke up in his body?Yeah. Me.Now I’m stuck in a game world that had zero lore, zero guidance, and zero chance of survival — except for the broken-ass Talent I somehow unlocked.I’ll kill, steal, lie, betray—whatever it takes.If survival means blood on my hands, then so be it.I didn’t choose this world, but I’m not going to let it chew me up and spit me out.I’ll climb over corpses if I have to. I’ll become the villain, the monster, the nightmare they never saw coming.Because in this world, there’s only one rule that matters: survive or die.And I’m not dying again.~~~More tags: no Yuri, no NTR, transmigration, rarebloodline, no dense mc, dragons, dragon girl, dog girl, vampire, succubus, mana cultivation, cursed heir, academy setting, secret identity, hidden talent, demons, death and rebirth, political intrigue, ancient bloodline, dark fantasy, family conflict.

I didn’t know this was a world inside a game. And I didn’t know my master was a mid-boss. “No way… wasn’t she supposed to self-destruct because of her personality?!” …I’m sorry.

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.”