MTL - Ninja World: Insect Princess From Konoha - Chapter 857 I'll kill you all

A crownless king in the world of gods.Akamir had unrivaled strength, wealth, and prestige in a realm governed by martial ability.Yet one mistake cost him his life.When Akamir awakened in the fragile body of a disgraced noble’s son,he found himself in a world steeped in mana, ancient artifacts, and gods who watched from above—A world shaped by otherworlders summoned thousands of years ago.But the longer he lived in this new reality, the more he noticed its abnormalities.“I am a villain?”A world with a predetermined path.“...In a romance fantasy game and novel?”He had become the anomaly.

Westheid transmigrates into his favorite game. Just as he's overwhelmed by happiness, he finds that the female protagonist whose families are all killed by Chaos is calling him.“Brother, please eat. Don't just space out. Did you get enough rest last night? There's a social ball at the Holy Tree Palace today.”

“Shit, is this really how I turn out?!”In the time of war he was known as the Body Flicker, Forbidden Magic Maker, and the Golden Blur.Arthur Vaelthorne.He had so many titles that it was unsurprising that the empire was the side that won the war, all because he had participated in it.A man that had the potential to become the strongest, rivaling the old powers, and the talent to back it up....Only ended up as a hidden boss in a popular game, meeting his end at the hands at one of his own students.A powerful hidden boss, unfortunately he had the fate of any other boss: Beaten by the protagonist.Now, with a second chance and the memories of one of the game's top players, he has a chance to rewrite his fate.

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.”