MTL - Black Dragon Kingdom - Chapter 437 countdown to war

I was stuck in a dungeon explosion while working so hard that I actually died.

But when I opened my eyes, I was back to the time of 3 years ago!

Well, I will live differently in this life. Salary is goodbye to s*ave life. I quit immediately and set up a cafe in the store my grandmother left behind.

There are no customers because she is right in front of a dungeon, but it doesn’t matter. All I want is to work two days and play five days. But.

Also, the attractive regular customer who keeps bothering me is somehow unusual.

It doesn’t feel good. Isn’t it like the story of the main character of the RPG, who was just trying to run an errand, and ends up fighting the devil after getting caught up in something annoying?

Yes, I will not. I can not. I have no intention of playing more than the role of a novice innkeeper.”

This is the story of a Gong who was reborn to the time before he lost his shou, where he started to tease his shou crazily… This story will be written from the shou’s POV.

The F1’s God of racing, Winston, lost his one and only important rival, Hunter. No matter how many skillful opponents appeared before him one after another, he still remained as the solitary ruler.

But one day, when Winston woke up, he found himself back to the time Hunter was only 18-years-old.

Winston, “Are you willing to rule over the Kingdom of speed with me and be my only King?

- Description from Novelupdates

Xie Tao had always believed in science until one day, a meteorite smashed into his yard, forcing him to bind to a heroic world saving script. The worst thing was that the script didn’t even follow common sense.

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.”