Seoul Station’s Necromancer - Chapter 115 Hearing (4) .

The first time she saw him, he was surrounded by flames. She couldn’t clearly see his eyes, but his gaze burned every part of her skin it lingered on.

Surely if the legendary beasts ever had existed, he would be one of them—one of the dragons.

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Kel has spent her life as a palace guard, hiding her mysterious ability. When sent in the princess's place to form a marriage alliance with a neighboring kingdom, she is captured by enemy soldiers and taken to the Serin Empire.

The ruler of Serin is a terrifying and coldhearted man, but he seems to have taken an unusual interest in Kel. How long will she be able to keep her identity and abilities a secret under the constant gaze of the Dragon Emperor?

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!!Slow burn romance!!

~I own no rights to the cover image~

Kuramoto Daisuke, a freshman in High School was suddenly exposed to someone vanishing in front of him. Turns out he was admitted to a Special Class full of Isekai Heroes that were regularly summoned to Otherworlds since the start of their Middle School. He was told that he was to become their Support to prevent each of the Heroes' fate of dying in the world they were summoned into. Though mediocre, he realized that his ability has a great potential but it needs a lot of hard work on his part.

Unconvinced of being just the Support Character, he vowed to excavate his mediocre ability, all the while supporting the Heroes using it.

And maybe more.

A slime randomly falls into existence. Sapient and born with the ability to recreate parts of the things it preys upon, the highly confused drop of primordial soup decides that the only real thing it can do is become the being at the top of the food chain. A task of longevity in the leaves of the Omniverse.

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.”