MTL - General: Traveling Frog, Starting Blood and Following the Limit - Chapter 555

In this world, women dominate everything.The reason for that?EtherA primal source of energy in this modern fantasy world that could only be wielded by women.This created a matriarchal society in which men were below women.But amongst this, Brandon found a way to use this Ether, and heck, he can even copy skills from other women?However, nothing in this world is free. Even Heaven demands death.So his powers also came with a peculiar condition...-------------------------Additional tags: R-18 | SMUT | NO NTR | NO YURIIt starts a bit slow at first... hang in there :)

[Pre-Author's Note: MC develops as time passes, it starts out slow but surely]“The Apocalypse isn't just fit for anyone... Without Strength, you're just a tool waiting to be exploited, So hurry the fuck up and get some strength already,”The world ended in an instant.One moment, Simon, a 20-year-old game designer, was sitting at his desk, immersed in code.The next, the sky cracked open and monsters poured into the streets.Werewolves with claws sharp enough to slice through steel.Undead skeletons that marched with deadly purpose and Zombies that infected humans with the power of their bite.The gods had unleashed an apocalypse, and humanity was no longer at the top of the food chain.Simon ran, he survived... and then he was granted a power.|Congratulations You have been binded to the Vampire Overlord System|He was something else.A vampire overlord.Yet the Apocalpyse had only just begun...

This is a story about a badass,

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.”