MTL - Tyrant Daddy’s Petite Bag - Chapter 2353 Little green rolls and sips, you don't care about me

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.

In 2100 at the turn of the century the first full dive VMMORPG game 'Omega' was released

A sudden and unprecedented event occurred and took place on Earth.A fissure instantly appeared in the clear blue sky, revealing a void devoid of any light beyond, instantly covering the whole planet, leaving no Life, no Hell, and no Paradise behind...Hence the start of a new chaos and a great beginning of life devoid of any hope began.In this apocalypse and lawless world without any limits set upon its beings, a silent dark wisp took form.A wisp that was bound to become the Horror of All was born...“Wait… I’ve become a Ghost?!”

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.”