Legendary Battle Pet - Chapter 232 - Take By Force

“Wait, someone might see.” Charlton said, recalling the glass window.

Chi Xiaochi: fourth-rate citizen at birth, three-time award-winning film emperor, second-rate temper, first-class looks. He crawled his way out of hell on hard mode to become a winner at life.

Then, he was smashed into a vegetative state by a chandelier.

061: Hello, here’s a brief rundown on the scum gong reconditioning system. This system measures the regret level of the scum gong. Every time their regret level reaches one hundred points, you will be able to leave the current world. A friendly tip, usually, through dedication and self-sacrifice, our employees slowly foster a sense of dependency in the scum gongs, gradually making it so the scum gongs can’t live without them.

Chi Xiaochi: How many regret points is a complete loss of reputation and standing worth? How about a fall from grace? Or wanting something but never being able to obtain it?

061: ……

- Description from novelupdates

Prince Alexander Herald von Triesenberg was the fourth prince of the Empire of Triesenberg who was banished from the Empire of Triesenberg for the crime that he didn’t commit.On their way to the island where he would be banished, a powerful storm swept through and sank the ship. Alexander drowned and at the moment, he thought he died from drowning.However, when he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the shore of a sandy beach and a floating interface before his eyes.

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.”