She Becomes Glamorous After The Engagement Annulment - Chapter 988 - Someone Has To Be The Villain

“I shouldn't have used illegal downloads in the first place.”

Ian woke up in the middle of a strange swamp as his own terrible character.

In a dark era on the verge of destruction, the hopeless character struggles to safely return to reality.

As an actress with solid skills yet stuck as a third or fourth-tier minor celebrity, Song Ci fell down on her way to an audition. When she woke up, she found herself turned into a fabulously wealthy Old Madam, living a life of eating and waiting for death!Song Ci declared she couldn't accept such a beginning for her script!But since she's already in this situation, she might as well act it out. After all, as the proverb goes: Life is a play, and it's all about acting!The new book “The Young Lady Who Never Seeks Progress” is now serializing~

Ben was having the worst day of his life—then he died. But instead of moving on to whatever comes next, he woke up in the Wizarding World as Benedict Brown, the alternate male version of Lavender Brown. Which is... concerning, because Lavender Brown did not have a great time during the Second Wizarding War.On the bright side, he’s apparently the Dovahkiin. And he has a Skyrim shop system. So, you know, pros and cons.Can he survive Hogwarts, Death Eaters, and whatever else this world throws at him? Or will he end up as werewolf chow just like Lavender? One thing’s for sure—he’s going to loot everything that isn’t nailed down.

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.”