Why do I have so many masters? - Chapter 558 - 197 First Rank Immortal Visitors (2/2) (3600 words)

The real hardcore player, who chose the most difficult start in “Reality Online”, still has to shock others with his god-level operation.

Word went around that no one that had ever knocked on the esteemed Eleazar family’s doors seeking shelter were turned away.Fleeing the prince of Lustris no less, Arabella Sterling held out hope that those weren’t mere rumors as she crossed the border over to Umbraria, home to all creatures of the night. A land where noble blood like hers was a highly coveted delicacy.As such, she wasn’t turned away, but since the Eleazars ran no charity, Arabella was compelled to become the sole blood provider to the heir of the family in exchange for safety.Though never, in a million years, did she imagine that what had started as a simple trade off, could morph into a swirl of tangled passion when the cold and stoic vampire she served showed interest in the young woman beyond the crimson nectar coursing her veins.

Will, an aspiring director and a college student was busy dreaming about becoming a successful figure in Hollywood when he found himself on an alternate earth.

The world is almost the same, but wait... all the celebrities, brands, and even renowned works from his world are no more!?

Armed with the Hollywood System, Will Evans will rise to the very pinnacle of stardom.

MCU and DC? I will create them!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S and the Office? I will write them!

Harry Potter and the Lord Of The Rings? I will direct them!

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.”