My Elf System - Chapter 34 - . Grimoire.

A young surgeon, who is struck by a system, embarks on a bizarre journey of life.

‘He’s so cute I want to kick him flying through the air.’

Bai Yao runs a seafood restaurant in a seaside town. One day, he saw a small sentient sea otter being bullied.

Out of pity, he helped out the little sea otter.

The sea otter acts quite defensively, baring his teeth, all while still covered in wounds yet to heal.

His way of saying thanks, is gifting Bai Yao an oyster in his pocket that’s been sitting there for who-knows-how-long.

Bai Yao ends up bringing the wounded and exhausted little sea otter back to his restaurant, giving him food and a shower.

Though the sea otter is still quite scaredy and defensive. He wouldn’t let Bai Yao rub his cute little face, or even ruffle his fur.

That’s not all the quirks of the little sea otter either. Bai Yao realised he’s a dummy that didn’t even know how to anthropomorphise.

Later that day, Bai Yao wakes up in the middle of the night, when there is something soft he’s holding in his hand.

He looks, and sees the little sea otter has put his paw in his hand. The sleepyhead is also snuggling on him, his head brushing against his chest.

Not feeling drowsy enough to sleep anymore, Bai Yao just props his head on his arm, watching until the otter finally wakes up.

When he finally does, he looks around, and sees that it’s Bai Yao; he squeaks, and then nestles his face against the fingers of Bai Yao.

Amused, Bai Yao asks, “oh? I thought you were a tough little guy that didn’t like petting?”

- Description from Novelupdates

Mu Qing was struck by lightning and ended up traveling to the prehistory, 10,000 years in the past, where she began her days of cohabitation with ancient people ……

They were simple and thus perseverant; they were primitive but filled with affection; they were waiting for civilization but already wise beyond measure.

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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.”