Transmigrated as the Novel's Final Boss - Chapter 90:Mentorship [4]

A girl Alicia lived as an orphan in a world of sword and magic Ciel.

One day, she learned that she was an “otome game’s heroine”. Even her parents’ death was simply a part of the scenario. Alicia judged the heroine’s setting as 「nonsense」and discarded it decisively. She introduced herself as adventurer 『Aria』, gradually mastered multiple weapons and magic, and grew to become the 「Ash Crowned Princess of Slaughter」! But, by accepting a request to guard the “villainess”, before she realized it she got dragged into the stage where nobles quarreled against each other――？

「I am “I”. I’m not a game character!」

Create weapon! Train your body!

Survive the fighting against powerful enemies and smash apart the otome game!

A sublime and exhilarating other world battle fantasy with charming fighting heroine!

Blurp:

What kind of husband punishes his wife by spanking her ass? An insane and sadistic husband!

“How long are you going to punish me?!”

“I’m done with your punishment a while ago.”

Qiao Anxia jerked in a fury and immediately rose to her feet while tidying up her one-piece dress.

Her hands touched her buttocks without realizing it, feeling the heat from the man’s punishment. She didn’t know if this burning feeling was from Richard’s unpainful spanking or for another reason...

How she wished she could kill this man!

“Old Tang, you activated speed-related Genetic Base Points. What’s the direction of those Base Points?”

This question caused Tang Ting to have a melancholic expression.

“It’s… Hand speed…” “And the right hand at that!”

Xu Tui slipped onto a daze.

Hand speed and the right hand. This image…

Didn’t the teacher say that it was easier to activate the Base Points of the areas you use the most?

“Old Tang, just what do you use your hands for?”

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.”