Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton - Chapter 1725 - 1286: God Star, Fallen

Here, you can see the past and present of the cosmic swarm, the origin of the war-mongering witch tribe, the rise of sea progeny, the birth of giant beasts...And...A world tree cultivation from scratch?...On her 18th birthday, Baiyi suddenly learns that her family is actually super-rich.After finally coming to terms with the reality and preparing to embrace a new life, another change occurs.The world is destroyed, the apocalypse arrives, and humans are given a lord qualification and randomly thrown into millions of worlds.Good news, her cheat finally arrives, and it's a seemingly powerful genetic weaving.Bad news, others have it too, and theirs seem even stronger.What else can be done?She can only be a support player trying to get by, relying on her cheat to do some farming.But why do her troops start to look so strange?...I just want to farm properly, so why is it my fault if intruders get taken down by insects/gardeners/crops!What Insect Queen, what original witch, it's all slander!I'm just an ordinary support lord!ps: Female protagonist, single, farming, dedicated to hybridizing all kinds of strange creaturespps: This is a male-oriented novel, if you have not read a male-oriented female protagonist novel before, I'm glad this will be your first.

The God of Magic stopped blessing his believers.

The Tower of Magic, where the mages gathered and worshiped him was destroyed.

Magic Fell.

The surviving Mages were looked down upon by the rest of the world.

Normal Mages, that is.

The Mages from the Strongest Magic Family, the Vesta Family, were an exception.

For 5000 years, the Vesta Family continued to produce exceptional Mages that were strong enough to resist other forces which came after their family heritage and treasures even without the Blessing of the God of Magic.

Now, however, the Vesta Family found themselves in a difficult situation where they didn’t have a single capable heir.

That was until, Christopher Davis, an underworld Gang Leader, transmigrates into the body of Vaan Astra Vesta, a well-known pushover and the ‘waste’ of the Vesta Family.

Christopher, now Vaan, soon realized that he could see otherworldly magic spirits with knowledge so vast that the Magic books that the Vesta Family treasured for 5000 years were nothing in comparison.

That, combined with Vaan’s own God-like Talent,

The ‘Hope’ was born.

A prodigy strong enough to not only protect the Vesta Family and its treasures,

A prodigy who will restore Magic to its former glory was born.

“Haa!? Who da fuck said a Mage can’t use fists!? That crab-like face of yours, I’ll punch it till it is deformed into something better looking!”

And of course, Christopher’s gangster-like tendencies won’t just disappear.

……………………………………………………………

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An editor at the prime of her life—and with maybe just a little too much free time—finds herself waking up in one of her favorite RPGs with no clue as to what's going on or how to get back home.This might be the part where others rejoice over getting whisked away to a world of wizards and magic, but she certainly doesn't think it's anything to celebrate about.After all, she woke up in the body of a small-time villain with some severe personality issues.

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.”