Beyond the Script: The Extra Who Stole the Mangakyo - Chapter 12 -

Medieval times, warring knights, dragons, demons, gods, pirates, behemoths...Barbaric, ignorant, backward, numb, starvation widespread, people unable to make a living...Damn it! Punch to explode this era!!Reclaiming wilderness, farming, bridge building, road paving, coal mining, excavating minerals!Leveling up, recruiting apostles, forging an army!Barrage troops! Pushing horizontally!Quack! My steel torrent is invincible in this world!!Roman: “I am your destiny! Kneel before me!”So, you were supposed to farm, but somehow you ended up establishing a vast empire and becoming the emperor?

Every overbearing president will always have a coquettish, pure, or lively white moonlight in their hearts. They are the vicious female partners in the novel, the stepping stones of the heroine, and the tool to promote the feelings of the hero and heroine. In the end, because of jealousy, run-down and decay she became a coquettish bit*h that everyone hated. However, one day-after Su Luó , who is unreasonable, indifferent and calm came… the domineering president of every world would be desperate, heartbroken, and desperate to make a living. Love is like poison, making people crazy and go crazy..

- Description from Novelupdates

Link’s soul traversed into the Wizard World, delightfully obtaining the Krypton Card Drawing System.

With his first draw being the “Mind Closure Technique,” his cultivation progress far surpassed his fellow apprentices.

He conducted research, carried out experiments, published papers, and obtained patents.

In this highly advanced civilization of a fantastical world, he climbed to the peak step by step.

He campaigned across the Heavens, admired countless bizarre landscapes, and conquered one innovative civilization after another.

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.”