The Shadow of Great Britain - Chapter 567 - 290: Social Dance Party_3

Even after knowing what came next....I still accepted.A deal with the devil herself.A devil, in the form of a goddess.I accepted a life that I knew wouldn't end well, a life that was worse off than the very curel one I already lived.But I still choose to do it.I chose to become the villain.

Author Note: This story is only for those who like reading about overpowered protagonists, as our MC is going to be more than just overpowered.He is going to thrash anyone who comes in his way while enjoying his life.Also, it's a world travel novel; for those who have an interest in world travelling.................................................................The story is about a person who has lived through many lives, seen incredible things, and become one of the strongest if not the strongest beings around. Although he struggles to remember his past, he is determined to grow even stronger by utilizing his personal system as that would bring back his memories. He has one main mission - to enjoy life to the fullest - and he is absolutely committed to achieving it.Follow through the journey as he becomes the strongest (again?) and regains his memory while also enjoying his life along with his system and some other people.

“Look at him,” someone snickered from a few rows over. “Smells like he sleeps in a dumpster.”“Probably does,” another voice added, louder this time. Nox just stared at his textbook, the words blurring. He had heard it all before.Then, Mark, one of the main reasons his life was a living hell, swaggered past his desk. Mark always had a smirk on his face. “Oops,” he said, not even trying to sound accidental, as a full cup of bright orange juice tipped over, splashing all down the front of Nox's already ruined shirt. The cold liquid soaked through instantly. Laughter erupted around the room. It was loud, clear, and mocking. Nox slowly looked up. His eyes landed on Ms. Joy, who was watching the whole thing. She had seen Mark deliberately pour the juice on him. He raised his hand, a small, tired gesture. “Ms. Joy,” he said, his voice flat. “He just poured juice on me. Are you just going to ignore it? Again?.” Ms. Joy looked at him, then at Mark, who was now theatrically wiping his hands. A small smile played on her lips. Then she chuckled. Just a little airy laugh.“Oh, Nox, don't be so dramatic. Boys will be boys, right Mark?” Mark puffed out his chest. “Yeah, Ms. Joy. He's just sensitive.” The class laughed even harder at that. Ms. Joy joined in, her laughter ringing out with theirs. Hearing them all, hearing her laugh, something in him finally snapped. It wasn't a loud break, more like a quiet, final click. He realized it then, with a cold, hard clarity. No one was coming to save him. No teachers, no police, no parents he never had. No one cared. If he wanted this to stop, he would have to be the one to stop it. He was the only one who could.His face remained blank, but his mind was suddenly very clear. He reached down slowly, his hand going into his worn-out school bag. The laughter died down a little as a few students noticed his deliberate movement, a strange stillness about him. He pulled out a gun.The classroom went silent. Utterly, completely silent. Mark's smirk vanished, replaced by wide, terrified eyes. Even Ms. Joy stopped laughing, her face paling. “What… Nox, what are you doing?” she stammered, her voice suddenly shaky. He didn't answer. He looked around at their faces, one by one. Fear. He saw fear now. Good. He was ready. He was going to make them all pay. He was going to end it, all of it.Just as he was about to raise the gun properly, a bright blue screen appeared right in front of his face. It was translucent, and only he seemed to see it. [Congratulations! You have met the requirements!] [1st Player Chosen!] [You have won the System!]

In the world of dragons and snakes, the talented but congenitally sick martial arts master was reborn as the sole heir of the 19th-century Canadian manor owner. He thought he would make money by practicing boxing, but he took advantage of the industrial revolution to become a giant of the times. The opened template.

In the end, the original owner was a hopelessly sick and consumptive ghost! I am still a bastard having an affair with a gardener…

Wait, what’s up with the claw?

James Howlett looked at the bone claws protruding from between his fingers, and became more and more worried about his future.

- Description from novelbuddy