I Raised the Beast Well - Chapter 111: Side Story 1

Yang Gang accidentally became the imposter heir to a wealthy family, with a beautiful older sister and a twin younger sister at home...

A question I often ask myself, is the human desire for self-destruction never going away?

Travel through the endless apocalypse world, and find the answer behind every kind of demise!

- Description from novelbuddy

In a bustling modern city where ancient secrets and mysterious powers collide with everyday life, 22-year-old Ethan Cross seems like your average college student. Behind his unassuming demeanor lies a man shrouded in secrets—a masked vigilante known only as “Virtuoso,” feared by criminals and sought after by powerful organizations.Ethan is overpowered, sarcastic, and ridiculously skilled at everything he does. But there's one thing he’s terrible at: romance. When the enigmatic and fiercely independent Mia Harper stumbles into his life, she unknowingly becomes the key to unraveling a conspiracy that ties Ethan's past to an ancient prophecy.Between laugh-out-loud moments, explosive action, and unexpected twists, Ethan navigates his double life while trying to protect Mia, keep his identity hidden, and maybe—just maybe—figure out how to confess his feelings without being a complete disaster.

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.”