Reborn into Naruto World with Tenseigan - Chapter 896 The Uchiha Clan Did Not Rebel Tonight!

“So, Diana, what's your excuse for betraying me?”

His amber glinted eyes bore into the woman with bloodied, broken blue hair, kneeling in complete disarray.

“... you're evil.”

“Oh, so, looking out for all of you makes me evil?”

The man narrowed his eyes, contemplating the echoes of protagonist halos and heroines' mentality, starkly real now.

Coming from a world far removed from such grim reality, he had read about these personalities in novels, but experiencing their shortcomings firsthand was a different story.

“How am I evil?”

He looked down at his foot where a young man, limbless and crushed, lay in a state of complete brokenness, mustering the little strength he had left to utter some words.

“... y.. you ba..stard, You killed millions.”

Hearing these words, the man's internal amusement grew at the absurdity of these hypocritical people.

He had eradicated all the evil organizations within the Empire after ascending to his throne.

Wars were waged to crush rebellious kingdoms that stood against his Empire, uniting the entire Heidal Continent under one flag—the Selvius Empire.

He shifted his gaze towards another woman with pink hair, her body completely broken, supported by a rock to maintain a semblance of balance amidst the devastation.

“Hmm, so what about you, Karina? Wasn't your family about to be executed by the Aidiac Royal family? Is it wrong for me to have intervened?”

“You killed them without mercy, and although you saved my family, it was not worth it.”

“I just saved—”

“It's bullshit. You could have solved everything peacefully without drawing so much blood.”

Hearing all this, the man began to understand why those novels depicted these people as hypocritical and low in intelligence.

If he hadn't saved them, they would have suffered the most gruesome fate.

Yet, despite being saved, these ungrateful individuals chose to blame him. The bitter irony of their ingratitude gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Guess you all have the same reasons.”

The man looked towards the seven people, their disdainful gazes directed at him.

He had only aimed to change their fates, to rescue some from slavery, others from crippling circumstances, and a few from inevitable betrayal.

Yet, they all blamed him for saving them, unable to comprehend that he had severed the root causes that would have subjected them to excruciating suffering.

“Hahaha.”

“Indeed, now I see.”

He now understood what those novels had tried to convey—'these idiots think this whole world works like they think it would.'

'System.........

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Derek McCoy was a man that since his youth had to face many adversities. Often forced to settle with surviving rather than living, had finally found his place in the world, until everything was taken from him one last time. After losing his life to avenge his brother, he reincarnates until he finds a world worth living for, a world filled with magic and monsters. Follow him along his journey, from grieving brother to alien soldier. From infant to Supreme Magus.

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Tags: Transmigration, Male MC, Western Fantasy
Schedule: 1 chapter per day
Chapter Lenght: 1700 - 2000 words but usually are even longer
Warning: The MC is not an hero nor an anti-hero. He is a broken, cynic and misanthropic person looking only for his own gain. If you are looking for a forgiving, nice, MC that goes around saving people in distress, this is not your cup of tea.
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I don't own the cover but wasn't able to find the author.

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.”

It’s the beginning of the Apocalypse, and zombies are running rampant over the Earth.