MTL - The Sword Deity in Tokyo - Chapter 176 `` Drizzle ''

After Mykel Alester returned from the world of his novel he destroyed, he returned to his real world with questions in his head. He thought that he would have a normal life again after he moved on even though he was an Omnipotent God in his novel world, but to his surprise, all the characters in his novel followed him to his real world.

Knowing it was possible and how his world became similar to his novel's because of them, he decided to take back his Omnipotent powers. Little did he know that it awoke the creator of his world, the being that ruled over the universe who had been observing silently. Not only that, the Gods of the mythologies and powerful characters from his novel that were his followers had turned against him and changed sides.

To his surprise, he lost the war and became powerless because he realized that he was no match for the being who created the universe.

“The Lord has given his words,” An angel said as he slowly looked down at Mykel. “By the Lord's grace, you're given a chance to repent for you who have brought chaos to Earth,” he continued and stared Mykel in the eye.

Mykel scoffed and asked with a trembling voice, “Repent? It wasn't me who brought the chaos in the first place.”

“You're welcome to stay here for eternity,” The Angel said with a smirk and kept staring Mykel in the eye. “The Lord showed you mercy, not only you, but those who don't belong to this world that the Lord created,” he continued and looked at Jeanne and the others.

“Mercy?” Mykel asked with his eyebrows raised. “Of course, I'll accept the offer,” Mykel said with a bit of a smirk on his face.

...

“He lied,” The angel said.

“We know, and the Lord knows as well,” Another angel replied. “But whatever he's going to do down there, he will face the consequences of his actions. It's not our job to judge, we only follow orders,” he continued.

...

With all the knowledge that he had and the “Game” that he created in his novel, he decided to climb up with his companions of the characters in his novel. His only purpose was one, and that was to destroy the world and prepare to challenge his creator.

(This is a sequel to my novel “Destroying My Own Movel” and I suggest you read that first)

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The nuclear holocaust which caused the collapse of the Old Times on Earth should have wiped out all human life on the planet. Yes, the gods set up their beautiful Elysiums to provide sanctuaries for their chosen, but by all rights everyone outside the elysian lands should’ve perished long ago. Yet somehow, human life still managed to persist, even in the deadly, mutant-infested wastelands.

Cloudhawk was a young scavenger who dreamed of being as free as the hawks in the skies, yet seemed destined to live out his life scrounging for scraps in the wasteland ruins. Fate, however, is ever-fickle. A chance meeting with a ragtag group of mercenaries changed the trajectory of his life, bringing him into a world with mutants and metahumans, demonhunters and godslayers, and even gods and demons. Cloudhawk would find his own place in a world that was far greater than he had imagined, find his own path between the zealous light of Sumeru and the whispering darkness of the Abyss… and one day, he would find that even gods may fall.

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.”