Urban Supernatural Medical Saint - Chapter 1198 - 1197: The Weak Spot

In the fantasy world ruled by Matriarchy, Kael of the Ancient Moonstone House, was working as a guild receptionist. Throughout his life, he was protected by his mother and later, younger sister, who was considered one of the highest potential individuals in the Queendom of Elyria. One day, he hears that his sister has gone missing and his family has accumulated debts of over 127 million gold coins to the Bank. The Queen comes to his rescue, paying off his debts and in exchange, he has to marry her five daughters, who each excel in a domain of their own.Having the five imperial princesses and the Queen herself as the backing, Kael has become one of the most protected individuals in the Queendom. Little did his wives know that Kael had another identity. He is the most dreaded yet noble Assassin of the imperial city, “K,” one who hunts down the criminals who escape punishment either because of insufficient evidence or using their connections.Follow Kael's journey, as he navigates his life as the protected figure in the light and protector of justice in the shadows.

So, apparently I'm Albedo now...And to make things worse, I'm in the Marvel universe, which one exactly, I've got no fucking clue.Fuck man! Why do I have to be in the body of a inverted person! Do you know how attention drawing white hair and red eyes look like in the real world?! It's been like what, the 4th person who asked me if they were natural?!...I gotta dye this shit black, like my original hair was...

Rudel Arses, the first born of one of the ‘Three Lords’ of the Courtois Kingdom, is from a corrupted family, but at 5 years old, he saw a dragon in the sky and his dark future as a villain changed. He was considered an idiot, but was that true? How would his effort to become a dragoon change the kingdom?

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.”