The Mirror Legacy - Chapter 45: Delay

“O, Hero!” With that cliched line, Kazuya Souma found himself summoned to another world and his adventure–-did not begin. After he presents his plan to strengthen the country economically and militarily, the king cedes the throne to him and Souma finds himself saddled with ruling the nation! What’s more, he’s betrothed to the king’s daughter now…?! In order to get the country back on its feet, Souma calls the wise, the talented, and the gifted to his side. Five people gather before the newly crowned Souma. Just what are the many talents and abilities they possess…?! What path will his outlook as a realist take Souma and the people of his country down? A revolutionary transferred-to-another-world administrative fantasy series starts here!

In a world where everyone changes jobs, I actually awakened to a unique dual career.

And a life-defying career?

High-quality items to cherish? I synthesize directly.

Cherish high-quality skills? I synthesize directly.

Senior pet cherish? I continue to synthesize, wait, how did this beast girl become so big after synthesis?

Let’s start with the synthesis of three skeleton summoning books…

Synthesis – [Undead Army]

Three more dark staffs to synthesize…

Synthesis – [Death Scepter]

The game competition of billions of races in the universe, our solar system, can we earthlings stand on a broader stage!

…

- Description from novelbuddy

One day, Yoichi who grew up while not knowing his parents has received the news of his father’s death. His father left behind a testament——which said he is to pick only one out of five ‘little sister candidates’?!

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.”