I Woke Up In The Morning And Became A Seeker, So I Dived Into A Dungeon ~Steadily Leveling Up Starting at the First Level~ - Chapter 70

His muscles screamed, his body begged for rest, his mind ordered him to stop. But Bakugo couldn't. Not while Izuku hadn't arrived. So, he pushed forward. Every explosion, every strike, every movement was pure determination, a reflection of his unwavering will to win.For a moment, he felt beyond himself. Fast. Precise. Almost invincible.And then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The battlefield vanished, and the pain ceased.It was in that moment that Katsuki Bakugo understood... he had died.Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.

The youngest, silly fourteenth son of the Yan Emperor had reached the age where he should be given a separated territory now. He rejected the wealthy land, neighbouring the capital city, and instead chose the wildest land in the western region— Liangcheng. Everyone shook their heads and sighed. A fool is indeed a fool. If you go to Liangcheng, you will be killed by barbarians in less than three to five years.

One year later, the watermelon presented to the Emperor as the tribute from Liangcheng in the west was sweet and crispy. There was no one in the palace who did not love it.

Two years later, Liangcheng presented corn as a tribute to the Emperor. The yield was high, and the taste was good. No one in the country could resist liking it.

Three years later, Liangcheng defeated the barbarians and presented their prisoners in front of the imperial court. The people of Yan were excited and their morale was greatly boosted.

Four years later… Everyone said that the fourteenth prince Mingyu was a fool, while the little fatty Yu, who transmigrated with the golden finger, chuckled. Let’s see how you guys look at this fool build his own territory, then.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Can’t I properly read stallion novels anymore!”

Shen Yuan transmigrated into someone who’d tormented the young male lead almost to death, the scum villain Shen Qingqiu.

It must be known, the original Shen Qingqiu ended up being carved alive by his disciple, Luo Binghe, into a human stick, a human stick!

Ten thousand “fuck your moms” rampaged through Shen Qingqiu’s heart:

“It’s not that I don’t want to cling to the male lead’s thighs, but who made him so fucking black. The type who seeks thousand-fold retribution!”

Why have all the female lead’s scenes been forcibly given to him.

Why, as a scum villain, does he need to constantly sacrifice himself, blocking knife and gun for the protagonist!

Shen Qingqiu: “…I think I can still save him, one more time.”

A gong who starts as a loyal dog of a small white flower, and ends up as a blackened, mental case of a maiden X a refined scum villain of a tsukkomi-holic shou

This is actually a dogblood story about a master-disciple pair never doing honest work, fighting monsters, and engaging in romance.

It’s also a story where the villain personally witnesses how the male lead transforms from a little sheep of a white lotus into a dark tyrant O(∩_∩)O~

- Description from novelupdates

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.”