The Portal of Wonderland - Volume 2, Chapter 529 A Clue

Cheng Yan transmigrated only to end up in a medieval Europe like world, becoming Roland, a Royal Prince. But this world doesn’t seem to be the same as his former world, despite some similarities. Witches are real and they actually can use magic?

Follow Roland’s battle for the throne against his siblings. Will he be able to win, even though the king already declared him to be a hopeless case and with the worst starting situation? With his knowledge of modern technologies and the help of the witches, who are known as devils’ servants and are hunted by the the Holy Church, he might have a fighting chance.

Now, let his journey begin.

Blondina was a princess with commoner blood in her veins. She lived quietly in the Star Palace among the heavens, but one day, she heals a wounded cat. The cat became a balm to her lonely life. But the lovely cat was actually…

***

Amon stepped on the neck of the prince.

Amon eyes stared coldly at the prince.

“Humans dare threaten mine?”

“I didn’t know… I don’t know, it’s Blondina…”

“Yeah, I don’t know. But I don’t know either. How much power must be adjusted so that you will not die.”

As Blondina, who was watching, grabbed his collar to drag Amon,

Amon turned slowly and laughed at Blondina.

“Don’t worry, Blondina. I will kill anything that bothers you.”

***

What to do with him.

It seems that I picked up a scary creature without my knowledge.

It is eight or nine years for her to meet her first love again. In the gas station of highway, she sees him walking from the grocery store. She looks at him, not believing what she sees and asks, ‘Do you still remember me?’ He looks at her, with a bottle of mineral water in his hand, and says peacefully, ‘Yes, even if you became ashes.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”