Sweet Love 1V1: Spoiled by The Executive - Chapter 82 - Feel His Warmth

After announcing it will be discontinuing all service, the internet game ‘Yggdrasil’ shut down… That was the plan, but for some reason, the player character did not log out some time after the server was closed. NPCs start to become sentient. A normal youth who loves gaming in the real world seemed to have been transported into an alternate world along with his guild, becoming the strongest mage with the appearance of a skeleton, Momonga. He leads his guild ‘Ainz Ooal Gown’ towards an unprecedented legendary fantasy adventure!

It was the Great Age of Pirates, surging forward with their thousand sails unfurled.

One young man from earth ate the Goro Goro no Mi and joined the Marine.

Justice vs Evil, Freedom vs Tyranny, the colliding waves between them would never cease.

But all of this…..”I couldn’t care less about!!”

At the summit of the war, surrounded by ten thousand people, Ron held a thunder halberd in hand and walked forward with strong steps.

Rivals meet face to face, but only one could become the King.

- Description from Novelupdates

Sagiri was born in silence, no cry, no breath, no heartbeat, until a pulse of ancient energy tore through the air and marked him as the last child of a dead people. Cold, disciplined, and frighteningly calm for his age, Sagiri has spent his life hiding a power even he doesn’t fully understand. He does not smile. He does not fear. He does not allow anyone close. Because the thing living inside him 'The Echo' never sleeps.

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.”