MMORPG: Rise of the Peerless Pumpkinmancer - Chapter 3: Mad Leader, Mad Followers!

A continuation from where High School DxD Volume 25 left off.

[WARNING]****** /THIS NOVEL CONTAINS EXPLICT SEXUAL CONTENT, CURSE LANGUAGE **** * ** ******* * **** AUDIENCE DISCRETION IS ADVISED“I’m in a relationship with a stunningly beautiful and irresistibly alluring girlfriend, whose charm and grace are unmatched. Winning her heart wasn’t easy, but I thought she was the embodiment of virtue and innocence. However, one day, I discovered a side of her I never anticipated—through our apartment window, I saw a connection with her ex that left me in disbelief. I never would have guessed she could have such a hidden side.”[A/N][this isn't a fast-paced novel, so for all those looking for an early revenge it's not coming now, it's just a casual novel read if you like it]

Blondina was a princess with commoner blood in her veins. She lived quietly in the Star Palace among the heavens, but one day, she heals a wounded cat. The cat became a balm to her lonely life. But the lovely cat was actually…

***

Amon stepped on the neck of the prince.

Amon eyes stared coldly at the prince.

“Humans dare threaten mine?”

“I didn’t know… I don’t know, it’s Blondina…”

“Yeah, I don’t know. But I don’t know either. How much power must be adjusted so that you will not die.”

As Blondina, who was watching, grabbed his collar to drag Amon,

Amon turned slowly and laughed at Blondina.

“Don’t worry, Blondina. I will kill anything that bothers you.”

***

What to do with him.

It seems that I picked up a scary creature without my knowledge.

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.”