MTL - I Woke the Sick and Disabled Prince on Our Wedding Night - Chapter 414 Innocent

Light and color, sound and smell;

Food, clothing, housing, mobile phones and computers;

Burn, freeze, rub, explode, thunder, rain, grow, decay;

All material changes and chemical phenomena;

Our bodies, our minds, our world—

All based on electromagnetic interaction!

Whoever can control the electromagnetic force will be the tyrant who dominates the world!

However, electromagnetic force is too profound, so let’s learn how to discharge electricity first…

- Description from novelbuddy

Ruel finds himself thrust into a brutal post-apocalyptic world, bound to a bizarre “Milf System.” This system demands morally questionable acts – NTR, seducing milfs, and claiming other men's wives – as the sole means of gaining strength and essential survival skills.The brutal reality of this new world awakens Ruel's hidden lust and dark desires. He swiftly abandons any semblance of morality, embracing the system's perverse demands with growing fervor.Driven by an insatiable hunger for power and pleasure, Ruel revels in the ravages he inflicts, using his newfound abilities to dominate and conquer.His journey transforms him into a ruthless force, where survival is intertwined with the satisfaction of his darkest urges, leaving a trail of broken relationships and conquered women in his wake.

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.”