MTL - The Distinguished Cute Master - Chapter 1084 Dragon Tiger, twenty

Zero, a 35-year-old mercenary, after being betrayed by one of his teammates who told his enemy about him. He chooses suicide so that he can kill his enemy and his traitor teammate. After that, he was reincarnated into the world of magic, in the body of an 18-year-old teenager with the same name as him. However, his body does not have mana or the talent for magic. But with the help of the cultivation system, he has unrivaled power in the world and has a harem of beautiful wives.

The character with the highest difficulty and the worst performance, Baek Yuseol, was considered a trash character in-game because he could not use magic in a fantasy setting where everyone else could.However…[Because the wrong ending has been reached, 90% of Aether World has been destroyed.] [Please reach the “True Ending.”] Suddenly, those words echoed in my mind before I was transmigrated to the Aether World.[You can use the skill “Blink.”] “Just why did I possess this character?”Blink was the only magic skill I had.Surviving in Stella Academy among genius mages, I became the notorious Blink Mage.Alternative title: I Became A Flashing Genius At The Magic Academy

Though it felt a little awkward to be my good brother’s aunt, it was really exciting to find out how handsome and rich his uncle was.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”