MTL - In This Hogwarts Without a Savior - Chapter 453 451. Duel of Vengeance

Subei was pulled into a horror game, awakening the hidden profession [Drinker] and anti-sky skills.

[Drinking table culture: Specter’s initial favorability +5, gain friendly reputation (upgradeable)]

[Toast, do not eat and eat penalty wine: Force a Specter below Grade A to fight with you, and after victory, you will force the same thing from Specter (upgradeable)]

[A thousand cups are not poured: your alcohol capacity is extremely large (upgradeable)]

“Ghost bride, you have a glass of wine with me on your wedding night, does your husband really mind?”

“Miss, it’s forbidden to drink underage, be careful madam spanks you.”

“Belly pocket? What kind of belly pocket, I have never seen the white embroidered gold trimmed belly pocket of the ghost princess.”

“Madam, you don’t want the lady to know about what happened last night.”

When other players shivered in the horror game, Subei picked up the drunk ghost bride and went straight to the bridal chamber.

“Fuck, beasts, not even ghosts.”

North Jiangsu said: “As long as you are brave, female ghosts will take maternity leave.”.

- Description from novelbuddy

The day she transmigrated it, she was already the wife of two men. She later became the Queen of the country. Her life has been cherished by seven men.

“9th Class Low Grade Familiar.”He was shocked to find that he had summoned the weakest familiar that could be.Only when he saw the status, he couldn't help being more shocked.“Hypnosis? Why can no one else see this? What even is this skill?”

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.”