EVIL SYSTEM - Chapter 12: smartphone

What will you do when the gods turn Earth into their playground? Run, hide, and hope for the best? What if it isn’t an option? What if you’re the thing they want to play with? What if they want you to play for their entertainment?That is what the humans had to go through when the gods forced an awakening upon them. Pick classes, slay monsters, and survive being the god’s pet. Surviving an apocalypse can be fun, but a divine apocalypse? It will be fun… but only for the gods. For the rest, it is a test for survival.Maybe not for everyone. What if someone views it as an opportunity to take revenge on everyone who had betrayed him? What if someone doesn’t care about being used by the gods as long as he can use them for his revenge?That’s what Kang YuWon sets out to achieve once calamity strikes. Revenge on everyone, including his family, and even the gods, if they ever cross paths.

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.”

Back to the end of Ming Dynasty, he was reduced to a slave.

This emperor, a beggar can do it, a slave can do it, a bandit can do it, but a house slave can’t do it?

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