MTL - Editing the Marriage Scene of the Fan Game Was Taken Seriously - Chapter 143

She was transmigrated into a novel where she became the cannon fodder who abused the male lead and ultimately suffered her demise under said male lead. And to return back home, she had to obtain the city boundary map first.

Ye Mu doesn’t want to play a game! Now that she’s inside the book with such a plot, the only way around her death is to kill the male lead first and let this world collapse!

However, upon seeing a scraggly, skinny little boy whose brows were full of perseverance, her hand won’t move…

Well then, she would subdue the male lead’s tyrannical tendencies! How to do it? Raise the male lead and have him help her find the city boundary map? That’s a good idea!

Despite raising him properly, the male lead seems to have grown into a devious man who won’t listen to her. Moreover, he lures her over with the city boundary map.

“Do you want this or not? Then come to my bed.”

Her face was full of tears. Where was the promised honest and upstanding monarch? Does she have to raise him all over again?

The man smiles and pats her on the head, “Come on, stop crying. Wash and go to bed.”

Thrust into an enigmatic world born from bloodshed; venture inside its complexities, dark-side, and always changing nature. At the center, a boy; brought up by an exiled mage, steps into a life of independence. A test to try and change his life for the better after witnessing what war can do to a person. The walk towards finding a stable living gets toppled as a unique magical element awakens. Using people, toying with emotions, doing anything and everything to get what he wants, this is the life of the next Death Reaper. Mostly emotionless, life continues as questions about his state of mind and being remains clouded behind many personas.

This isn’t the story of a single man, it’s the story of a whole world. Read as the world builds itself from the ground up. Conspiracies, evil, the dark side of humanity. In addition, tis the start of a new age; the birth of monsters – a story depicting the tales of the first heroes and demons to ever exist.

The Wielder of Death Magic isn’t a typical fantasy. The heroes don’t summon forth power from heroes of old, here, the characters are the ones who make up the myths and legends for the next generation. Amidst the turmoil, Staxius, he lives on, watching and waiting as the world grows.

Five hundred years ago, the world was awakened, bringing dungeons, mythological beasts, new races, and lost continents to the surface. It also brought the opportunity to awaken and become strong, but not everyone had that opportunity.Elliot is one of those young people who yearns to become an Awakened One but has not yet succeeded.Despite that, he is different.His desire for power is so strong that he never becomes discouraged despite being mocked and despised by the world for belonging to the group of those Rejected by the System.He still longs to become an Awakened One.His desire for power is so intense that when the long-awaited day arrives, he shakes the foundations of the world, allowing him to become one of those acclaimed Awakened, receiving an amazing and unique class.Although powerful enemies surround him, his intense desire for power will allow him to look beyond what his eyes can see as he rises above the world and achieves Glory.

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.”