The Bigshot Shocks The World When She Backs Home - Chapter 89 - Waiting for a Call

Damon’s lips twisted into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Sisters or not, I kept them alive so you could watch me rip off their heads one by one. That’s the only reason they’re still breathing.”My jaw tightened. “You wouldn’t.”He leaned closer, his voice lower. “Wouldn’t I?”“You kept them alive?” I repeated his words slowly, my voice cracking with disbelief. “Just so I can watch you kill them?”Damon stood tall, his eyes twirled with something sinister, his expression was like a carved stone. “Yes,” he said flatly. “You cared enough to protect them. Now you’ll watch as I end them.”My chest tightened. The air grew too thick to breathe. “You’re cruel.”“I’m Alpha,” he replied, his tone cold, without a shred of mercy. “Mercy gets people killed.”‘Psychotic bastard. I wish I could drive a knife into your chest right now!’~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~When Ember opened her eyes, she was no longer the powerful, independent woman she once was.Instead, she woke up in the fragile, abused body of a lowly Omega—destined to be nothing but a breeder for the Alphas.Her escape attempt didn’t get her far. Instead, it led her straight into the path of Damon Blackthorn—the ruthless Lycan King feared by all.Sold like a slave by her own father, Ember becomes the property of a man with a frozen heart and a violent temper. But beneath her submissive mask lies something more: a cunning mind and a will that refuses to break.Now, in a world ruled by dominance, power, and ancient bloodlines, Ember must do more than just survive.She must outsmart a king.She must earn the loyalty of the very people who scorn her.And maybe—just maybe—she’ll bring the Alpha to his knees.

Ethan Cross was just an ordinary college student in his past life—until he died trying to save a banker playing hero. Now, he finds himself reincarnated in “New World”, a realm plagued by Dread Beasts, where only those who awaken Aethermarks can become Heroes.But there’s a problem.Ethan has awakened as an E-rank Hero, the weakest tier, cursed with only one ability slot—a death sentence for any aspiring warrior. With no powerful clans willing to recruit him and the world already looking down on him, his future seems bleak.Until he discovers his Innate Talent: Sanctum of Beasts.This mysterious power grants him access to a personal dimension, where he can hunt endless waves of Dread Beasts. Unlike the real world, slaying them in this space drops Ability Fragments, which he can combine to gain abilities without slot restrictions. Even better? Time flows differently—he can train for days, yet only an instant passes in reality.Determined to rise from nothing, Ethan embarks on a secret journey to accumulate power. But as he completes missions and unravels the truth about the Black Pits, he realizes there’s something far more sinister lurking beneath the surface.The Hero Association hides dark secrets. Villains roam freely in the shadows. And Dread Beasts may not be the mindless creatures everyone believes them to be.With powerful enemies watching his every move, Ethan must play a dangerous game—remain unnoticed or become the hunter of both beasts and men.But one thing is certain:In this world, strength is everything. And Ethan Cross will carve his own path to the top—no matter the cost.

In a foreign country, a leisurely little farmer.

Beer, side dishes, beef and sheep barbecue, small pond, three or five fish and shrimp, a pot of soup.

There are hundreds of flowers in spring, the moon in autumn, cool breeze in summer, snow in winter, and a hut in the woods.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”