Subscriber of the Gods - Chapter 185: Non-lethal Policy

At 79, Adom is an old mage who has known nothing but illness and regret. When the world finally burns and all hope turns to ash, at the last beat of his fading heart, a mysterious being appears in the dimming light with a simple question:“If you could try again, would you?”What's left to lose when you've already lost everything?A handshake seals the deal, and Adom wakes up on his old school grounds, sixty-seven years in the past. When everything is still possible. A second chance with all his knowledge intact, his memories preserved, and his youth restored.This time, Adom wants it all: to feast on food he's never had, to travel a world still full of wonder, to finally live the life he dreamed of. There's just, as always, one small catch—he needs to prevent the end of the world first.But as Adom will soon discover, changing history might demand sacrifices even greater than watching it burn...

People know that ghosts are terrifying, but ghosts understand the malice in human hearts.This is a traditional supernatural novel.

Drugged one night by her ex-boyfriend, a mysterious man took advantage of her in an ecstatic night filled with sex.To take her revenge, she married the man, and used him.

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.”