Chronicles of Primordial Wars - Chapter 19 – Moons came out

I gave them my everything.My time… my strength… my heart.I trained while they slept.I smiled when they laughed.I stayed… even when it hurt.And what did I get?Nothing.They looked at me like I was pathetic.Like, I didn’t belong.Like I was… less.But I... the naive person I am, continued trusting them.They told me to act like trash, fine—I became trash.They told me to act like a scumbag, fine—I played the role.However...One mistake, one single moment...That’s all it took.And they threw me away.But now…Someone else woke up in my body.A stranger, a man who doesn’t know the pain I suffered, but wears my face.Let’s see what he does with it.Because me?I’m done with this life, so to the soul who took over my body...This is your mess now…'Gray'.

The King Of Assassins was a monster that reigned over the world of hitmen for long years. He was the absolute peak that no other being could reach. His name reached the ears of every powerhouse in the world and sent shivers through every human.

Yet, his legend came to an end suddenly when he died in unknown circumstances.

However, instead of disappearing forever, he was given another chance in another world by the goddess of reincarnation. It was the world of an old book that he read back in the time. A world where everything was possible, where humans could reach new heights that were impossible in his old life.

But, this place didn't seem to be normal as it carried a huge surprise that will make his journey seem all the more interesting.

The Goddess of reincarnation wasn't as holy as anyone would think. She was nothing but a twisted being who found a toy to play with. The goddess manipulated the world that he was going to and changed all the heroines into these twisted beings that fit her character. They were all now harboring this unhealthy obsession toward him and trying with all their powers to take him away for themselves.

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.”

Reborn in World of Warcraft : Mastering All Beauty