Superhumans of the Dome City - Chapter 40 - 24 Thorns

Jin was a 19-year-old teenager who had been haunted by the same dream for ten years—a dream that carried a single message: “Destroy the final chapter.”When he finally did, his soul was pulled into the body of a servant named Lin, inside the Shoujo Multiverse—a world made up of five distinct realms:1- The Magic World2- The Hunter World3- The Celestial World (based on ancient civilizations like Ancient Egypt, Norse mythology, and more)4- Murim5- The Immortal WorldNow, these worlds are beginning to merge, and chaos is inevitable.Discord:(“Shoujo” here means that everyone has their own past and personal goal.)

Jiang Yuan traveled to a fantasy world.

His father was a big boss in the county, and he originally thought that he was rich and honored in brocade clothes.

Unexpectedly, his father was robbed while walking the darts, and the whole army was wiped out.

Overnight, everyone stared at the Wanguan family property left by his father.

Fortunately, he has already awakened the luck panel, which can be used to upgrade his own luck talent by considering other people’s innate luck.

Strong body (white) → extraordinary physique (green) → dragon and tiger body (blue) →??? (gold)

Outstanding savvy (green) →? ? ? (gold)

 …

[Longevity without Borders (Purple)]: Increase your lifespan for ten thousand years and keep your youth forever!

[Ancient double pupils (gold)]: Born with double pupils, the human emperor’s vision is equivalent to the ancient human emperor alive, with peerless talent.

[Five-color divine light (gold)]: Innate supernatural powers, once sacrificed, within the five elements, there is nothing that cannot be brushed and nothing that cannot be broken!

[Never fall into reincarnation (red)]: It is a taboo by nature, never fall into reincarnation, and can always keep the true spirit unaware of reincarnation and rebirth.

The luck entries one by one constitute the peerless genius!

And he also found that he could continuously gain innate luck and accumulate upgrades.

Talent has become unrivaled in the past, and gradually embarked on the road of invincibility.

- Description from novelbuddy

[Congratulations. You have met the requirements to become a Cursed One! Your fate has been changed!]What did it mean? Ragna was a transmigrator, reborn into this world as a Cursed One. But what was a Cursed One, they were the demon spawsns aclaimed to be the son's of the devil himselfA black screen with white text appeared before him, and he felt a sense of trepidation.[ Request Accepted ][ Status Screen Unfolding ]Character Name: Ragna RingwoodTitles: Cursed OneAge: an hour oldSex: MaleRace: UnknownLevel: 0Exp:0/100HP: 5/10[Attributes]Mana: 10Strength: 10Agility: 10Vitality: 10Mana Sense: 10Bloodline: (Unknown)???????Skills: NoneRagna's eyes widened as he stared at the screen. He was a Cursed One, with unknown abilities and powers. The thought sent a surge of excitement through 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.”