Tyranny of Steel - Chapter 1201 The Fate Of The Zulu Kingdom

I regret having lived as a villain.

So when I got a second chance after regressing, I tried to live a good life…

But then a villain became obsessed with me.

……………………………………………………………

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Back in 1998, an ordinary person who has been through, tired, cried, and fought, hopes to run down-to-earth and keep up with the trend of the times.

- Description from novelbuddy

People in the World of Naruto: Drinking Makes You Stronger
 Author: Half a Piece of OrangeYouyu, a man who found himself transported into the Naruto world, awakened a rather unusual system:The more he drinks, the stronger he becomes!• Raikage: “What?! I have the strongest defense—wait, why did Youyu just slice through me while drinking?!”• Hiruzen Sarutobi: “That guy’s a monster. I’ve never seen him train, only drink... yet he still cut me down in an instant.”• Madara Uchiha: “Dancing? Tch. That drunk bastard swayed his way over and chopped me up!”• Obito Uchiha: “Damn it! Even space-time jutsu can’t stop that drunk maniac!”Youyu: “My hobbies? Drinking... and cutting people down.”

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.”