If the Deep Sea Forgets You - Chapter 102 - I Remembered

“Ding! Choose your idle skill.”“Ding! Idle complete. Language level +999.”“Ding! Choose your idle skill.”“Ding! Idle complete. Basketball level +999.”After a freak accident, Qi Ning acquires the “”Unlimited Idle”” system. But just as the system binds to him, it crashes, leaving a repair time of 999 years. However, to Qi Ning’s surprise, the system still allows him to idle, and with every second of idling, any chosen skill instantly reaches level 999.With his life now dramatically transformed, will Qi Ning’s rise from mediocrity be unstoppable?

The Gura Gura no Mi is known as the strongest fruit in the world of one piece.

Alex was an ordinary teenager—until the day he discovered his ability to drain energy from the dead. With powers rooted in death itself, Alex hides his necromancy behind a normal life, secretly entering deadly portals to fight monsters and earn money. But beneath the surface, a darker truth lingers—his parents's death and his powers are linkedAs he harnesses his necromantic abilities, draining the fallen to grow stronger, the weight of his power begins to take its toll—and the line between the living and the dead starts to blur.With enemies closing in and betrayal around every corner, Alex must master his growing abilities before they consume him—or worse, before the forces hunting him claim everything he has left.When death becomes your greatest weapon, how long can you survive before it turns against you?---

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.”