Naruto: I Can Take People Through the Ninja World in the Future - Chapter 249: The Advantage of Destruction Level

Arthur Reynolds lived as a quiet, compassionate soul who loved to read and workout in his spare time, sacrificed himself to save his family, trading his own life for theirs.In death, his journey was far from over. Reborn into the mystical world of Sylvara as Raegar Blackwood, he discovers a land teeming with Aether, prestigious magic academies, perilous dungeons, and fearsome monsters.Join Raegar as he learns how to harnass his Fusion Magic to become a legend in the making. Witness him conquer dungeons, win tournements and become the strongest.

He had once obtained a high levelled medical knowledge, martial arts and a Special Ability which allowed him to see through the other party's thoughts. With this, the Young Master Han was able to roam the society, shopping malls, medicine courts, and government officials.

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“He who bears the light of heaven and the rage of hell shall decide the fate of gods and beasts alike.”When the world shattered and stars fell from the heavens in blinding storms, a child was born—cursed with the power to either end the eternal war or bridge the gap between heaven and hell.Now, hunted by gods and worshiped by shadows, he must choose which side of his soul will burn brighter - light of heaven or fury of hell.

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.”