MTL - The Silver Hamster’s Daily Life - Chapter 33 3 (2 in 1)

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.”

Way, way, and very way before I was even born, my world was invaded. Actually, not just my world, my entire damn universe was overrun by another, led by a single race that called themselves the Eternals.And they were prepared. Very prepared. Every life we lost in the war against them was used by them. They didn’t just kill people, they captured their souls, forged them into Phantoms, and used the souls to twist beasts into Abominations. Our dead became their army.Three hundred years later, I was born. A guy with way too much energy. Sitting still? Impossible. Taking it slow? Not happening. I was always moving, always ready to burst into action. Then I awakened, and got a talent too.My Talent's Name Was Generator.Because of it I never ran out of energy. Ever. My muscles? Supercharged. My healing? Faster. My stamina? Please, I had no idea what being tired even felt like.So if the universe wanted to throw an endless war at me?Fine. I’d throw everything I had right back.I wasn’t born a hero. Never wanted to be one. But this war? It wasn’t just my universe’s fight anymore. It was mine. The Eternals made sure of that when they took my parents' souls.

Subei was pulled into a horror game, awakening the hidden profession [Drinker] and anti-sky skills.

[Drinking table culture: Specter’s initial favorability +5, gain friendly reputation (upgradeable)]

[Toast, do not eat and eat penalty wine: Force a Specter below Grade A to fight with you, and after victory, you will force the same thing from Specter (upgradeable)]

[A thousand cups are not poured: your alcohol capacity is extremely large (upgradeable)]

“Ghost bride, you have a glass of wine with me on your wedding night, does your husband really mind?”

“Miss, it’s forbidden to drink underage, be careful madam spanks you.”

“Belly pocket? What kind of belly pocket, I have never seen the white embroidered gold trimmed belly pocket of the ghost princess.”

“Madam, you don’t want the lady to know about what happened last night.”

When other players shivered in the horror game, Subei picked up the drunk ghost bride and went straight to the bridal chamber.

“Fuck, beasts, not even ghosts.”

North Jiangsu said: “As long as you are brave, female ghosts will take maternity leave.”.

- Description from novelbuddy

I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn’t the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else’s story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I’ll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.