MTL - Whispering Verse - Chapter 1484 teachers

After crossing over to Naruto World, Shiranui Yuuji found that there was an incomparably terrifying Godzilla in his body.

“You are Tailless Bijuu? Your chakra is astonishing…. What a coincidence, so am I.”

“You know Bijuu’s coat? I don’t have Bijuu’s coat, but I do have Godzilla Coat-”

“Bijuudama is terrifying!! It can destroy a mountain as soon as he sends it down?”

Hiss, that Bijuudama scared Yuuji, he quickly moved his hands to form seals,

“Nuclear Release – Atomic Breath!”

When Yuuji turned into Red lotus form, Godzilla pressed Nine-Tailed to the ground.

“Nine-Tailed, your strength is too strong. You need to be fried…”

Nine-Tailed, “?”

“What Jinchuriki are you exactly?”

The notorious imperial court lackey and the meritorious military general were well-known for their mutual dislike, a pair of arch-enemies set in stone. Who could have foreseen the unexpected change in the winds of heaven: the general injured on the battlefield, both legs disabled, and even forced by the emperor to marry his nemesis.  

With one marriage edict, two people with mutual hostility are forced to marry and live under the same roof. Yet after these long days together, they come to the realization that this fellow is not truly devoid of any saving grace/unattainable and high out of reach.

- Description from Novelupdates

A very ordinary white collar worker, Han Sang Hoon.One day, he came late to work and there he finds a strange destiny called [12 Hours After]

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.”