Fatal Shot - Chapter 618: Underground Tunnel

It’s a long road to bury the dream deep in my heart and carry the wishes and dreams of my dear friend and teacher.

In the pirate world where the strong are respected, fight a bloody long road.

“Pirates… maybe they’re all damned people.”

—Snold Simon

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Group number, 155131664

- Description from novelbuddy

Stands in front of you,The overseer and protector of darkness,The disruptor and reinventor of order,The creator and persecutor of sycophants,The hidden actress queen, the goddess of the night, the nightmare of Gods and their gravedigger,The True Ancestor of Blood—Charlotte de Castell.Accompanied by madness, born from blood, hand in hand with curses, walking alongside destruction.This is a tale belonging to the Bloodborne…

The world was once at war with 10 alternate worlds. This was known as the Concept War and our world won 60 years ago. All of this was concealed so no normal people are aware of this fact in the current time.

After the death of his grandfather, the high-school student Sayama Mikoto is suddenly summoned by the giant corporation IAI. He learns this world is headed for destruction due to the acceleration of the Minus Concepts. To prevent this, negotiations must be undertaken with the survivors of the other parallel worlds so their 10 concepts can be released.

And so Sayama is caught up in the final battle to clean up after the Concept War which left behind so much enmity.

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.”