Reborn As An Interstellar Giant Mosquito - Chapter 1553 - 11 Public Execution! [Request for Official Subscription]

In the midst of the blue and purple neon lights, under the gray, metallic sky, it is the frontier of all data, the aftermath of a scientific revolution, also the border of fiction and reality.

Steel versus body; the past and the future.

Here, the Outer World and the Inner World exist alongside each other. It seems like the wall of time is right in front of your eyes.

Darkness gradually swallows the world.

But listen, my friend, we cannot use kindness to survive the darkness. We need fire.

[Regressed successfully!]Zick lifted his eyelids, revealing two dull eyes. A grand room filled with medical appliances was reflected on his pupil.The piercing pain originating from the abdomen made Zick slowly accept the reality.He had returned 10 years back in the past!The very moment from when Zick began to lose everything.[Destiny system has been activated. Get closer to people with strong destiny and strengthen your own destiny!][Sub-function: shall be unlocked soon!]After taking a look at the interface, Zick closed his eyes.“First…I should repay that chick for this wonderful gift.” Zick looked at the bandages on his waist.......{Additional tags: Age regression, Evil protagonist, cold female leads, Academy, evil organizations, conquering, war.}

With a hideous visage they came to be known as goblins.

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.”