The Demon Queen's Royal Consort - Chapter 113 - Dungeon - XXI

First World : CampioneCurrent - Second World: High School DxDThird World: ???Reincarnated into the world of Campione! Haru Kasugano, our hero slays gods and ascends as the mightiest Godslayer. He battles powerful God-Kings and Campiones, claiming victory after victory. Whatever it is. [Wealth, Power, Beauty] he has it All. Watch him grow stronger as he travels into new realms like High School DxD and the Fateverse, leaving a trail of defeated gods and captivated hearts in his wake.

‘I’m sure I was……dead.’

Annette Bavaria, a woman from the most prestigious noble family in the Deltium kingdom , returned back to the day of her wedding.

The groom’s face was fierce as they entered the hall for the ceremony. He clutched her arm tightly because he hated Annette terribly.

Now they were going to have a hellish marriage again, hurting each other.

***

“Don’t do this, Rafael.”

“Shh, Annette. If you really want me to stop, please don’t open your dirty mouth. I’m going crazy right now because I want to squeeze it right in.”

She looked at her husband tearing her clothes with tearful eyes.

He was still horribly mean, arrogant, and a beast who only coveted her body.

If she didn’t want to die again, she had to tame this wicked beast somehow.

There was no other option.

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.”