Virtual Reality Cultivator - Chapter 2: First Steps in a New World

Lucas was the last human in the universe.A cosmic-scale war had consumed humanity in massive destruction. As collateral damage, there were no longer any habitable planets. Lucas Alhamera, a scientist, attempted to terraform a planet resembling Earth called Antroseda but continuously failed.Overwhelmed by despair and the crushing weight of loneliness, Lucas attempted to end his own life using a euthanasia capsule. However, just before his life could be taken, he was abruptly awakened by a notification.[As the last of the dominant species, you have been chosen as the new Overseer of this universe.][The cycle of life must continue to preserve balance.][Select planet as the birthplace of the new species (default)][Select another planet...]With the Overseer System he had obtained, Lucas began what he had failed to do for hundreds of years: reviving a dead planet and creating a new race to succeed humanity.

After thousands of years of silence, the world of cultivation once again welcomed the golden age.

Offered as a bride to Hades at the age of eighteen.

Pestered by evil spirits in the day, and taken advantage of by a perverted demon at night.

Pervert: “Dear, a night with you is worth more than gold.”

I leaned away as I clenched my teeth angrily: “Worth my foot!”

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”