The Villain's Little Cat - Chapter 227 - 227 Battle <3>

In the year 2025, humans awakened with the ability to summon mighty beasts—capable of destroying terrains, breaking the laws of physics, and creating wonders limited only by one's imagination.But before these blessings came a curse.An alien face appeared from nowhere and threatened all life on the planet, leading to the greatest war in human history.In the aftermath, the human race and the alien race were forced into a shaky treaty that could be broken at any time.Years later, tests for summoning abilities began for the next generation. Those who awakened low-grade summoning would be thrown to the gutters, while those who awakened higher got to join great factions after graduating from the academy.Kairos Veyl, the blank, calculating student, pulled his hand from the massive crystal pillar and stared at the large beast before him.“This kid—he just got a LEGENDARY SUMMON.”A legendary summon? The greatest class of summoning. However, with this class came a risk one would have never guessed.

As a true over-bearing president scum gong, when Xie He for the Nth time rejected his admirer, he heard a sentence in his head: “Congratulations on achieving the “rejects 100 hosts” accomplishment; as an award you will soon bind to the “Scum Gong and Cheap Shou” system, entering other worlds to complete capture missions.

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.”