Return of the King, Dominating the City - Chapter 1571 - 1465: Shattering Your Pride

After dying, I woke up as a weak goblin.

To survive, I have to destroy, consume, and evolve off of other monsters.

From the ugly guy to the king who rules everything!

Second novel by Author before EER

Due to rejection of the heart donated by her ex-boyfriend, she married him and supported him with her own blood for two years. After the rejection disappeared, he unexpectedly filed for divorce. She readily agreed and left, revealing to him how he gotten the heart. When he learned the truth, he was furious and disgusted with her.Five years later, she pretended to be dead and returned with their child, disguised as an ugly nanny...

Two years ago, Austin was just a nerd earning a meager salary in a concrete jungle, enjoying reading novels and idling his days away, until one day, he woke up in a cold, dark place. After struggling to break through a white wall, he discovered, to his astonishment, he had transformed into a creature.A Blue Young Dragon.Now, he is stronger and claims a small territory, but he still needs time to grow.And some kobolds have strayed into his territory in their flight.“Mom, will we live here forever?”“Hmm, Nina?”“Mom, I like it here. Let's live here with the Dragon from now on, okay?”

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.”