She Professed Herself The Pupil Of The Wiseman (WN) - Chapter 256: Spirit Queen vs Phantom Thief Fuzzy Dice (1)

Lin An's life underwent a drastic change.The basketball under his bed had turned into a bleeding head, which would hop next to his pillow and hum softly by his ear at midnight. The subway racing into the station had become a gigantic lizard, opening its gaping maw, waiting for him to line up and feed it.The world was not as simple as he had imagined. Behind the bustle of the city, the Witch Hunter Knights roamed in search of evil wizards to slay.The ordinary worker, Lin An, inadvertently became a member of the Antler Witch-Hunting Knight Order, shouldering the glorious mission to protect humanity.He must be careful, careful, and then even more careful.Careful not to reveal his true identity as a wizard.…“Why Hunt a Cowardly Innocent Wizard?!”

{Information revealed!} {These are the benefits!!} {Do you wish to steal its skills and powers?} “What the hell is this?! What am I seeing?” A Kid was flabbergasted seeing all the information about anything he set his eyes on, from beasts, Plants, and even Nonliving things. {Do you wish to steal the artifact’s Ability?} The 1-year-old child who looks like a 10 years old smiled; “I don’t know what this is, but that didn’t mean I can’t utilize it... With these Eyes... I’ll be the youngest Emperor in the whole three Continents!!” ____________ Aaron was a 30 years old man, who had gotten reincarnated four times... He made sure to be the strongest in each lifetime... A General. A President. The Young Master Of a powerful family, Who Engraved his name on everyone’s minds. A Renowned Scientist, who created the first Youth preserving drug. _______ Such a Man got Reincarnated to his fifth Lifetime As The Cursed Child, The bringer of Death and Destruction. “Can you believe that?!” _____ Will Aaron Use his past experience and show the world his strength, or be The Cursed Child everyone is so terrified of? Let’s find out.

[*Ding*

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.”