Little Prodigal Alliance Head (and Cook) - Chapter 369.2: Arrogant Appearance

He lost the moment he thought he had finally won.An orphan. A child of unknown origins. And now...a captive at the hands of someone whose intentions remain unknown.Follow the journey of Adrian as he breaks through the slavery, journeys across dimensions and unravels secrets, buried deep from the eyes of the mortals.He must not only face the challenges that fate throws in his path but also his past....the past he had long tried to forget about.It's now or never!“The locked gates of the past await me. For they shall be the lands waiting for me to be conquered or they would be my nemesis.”

The protagonist fell asleep while playing an online game. However, he awoke in a strange world with his game character’s appearance. In a state of shock, he noticed that he was equipped with nothing but his strongest weapon and armor. To make matters worse, our hero’s appearance was changed by the special avatar skin『Skeleton』when he entered this new world. The protagonist wanted to live without drawing attention, but he got acquainted with the dark elf Ariana and received her request.

Three years ago, in the land of Reinbulk, a Legendary Hero was summoned in the Kindom of Leezalion and he succeeded in repelling the Demon King. Now, five students are summoned back into Reinbulk by the Kingdom of Luxeria to fight against the Demon King and the demon army. Unlike the other heroes, Yashiro Yuu has no magical affinity and the Luxeria Kingdom has no intention on acknowledging his existence or returning him to his world.

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.”