Academy Heroine's Right Diagonal Back Seat - Chapter 29

A relaxing story of a business tycoon who, sick of machinations and struggle, returned to the medieval world and married into a merchant family to become a “zhui xu,” a husband that lives in the wife’s home. Even though his intentions were not so, he could not avoid the matters of family, country and world.

“There was once a person that stood at the top of the golden pyramid,

with the innumerable cheap jealousy and envy of people,

he walked this road escorted by tens of thousands of people,

yet he could not escape the long and lonely sleep under the gravestone. ”

- Description from Novelupdates

He was persuaded into playing the VRMMO 「Trailblazer」 or TB for short by his cheerful childhood friend Miyu.

But Wataru faced Miyu, who was full of motivation and said this.

「Then, I’ll be the rearguard. Shinto priest? I’ll take this one」

「What!? You are not going to fight next to me!? And you call yourself a man!?」

For some time she would become one of the top players and start getting called Hero.

So Wataru had to deal with being an extra.

But, during a certain PvP event, a strange nickname was attached to Wataru.

That, he was actually the 「Hero’s true self」.

He was supposed to die in the academy dungeon.Instead, Earth’s greatest war hero opens his eyes as Velorum’s most hated student—the “villain” everyone expects to be executed by midterms.Swordsmen duel, mages burn, saints bless, tamers command beasts. He, unfortunately, practices the one art people fear most: necromancy. He doesn’t want a throne or revenge; after a lifetime of medals and funerals, he wants something scandalous for a villain—to live well. To laugh after curfew, to taste street food, to keep the friends who chose him alive.But the church wants a heretic, the crown wants a scapegoat, and the academy’s golden hero can’t explain why the “villain” keeps winning.Call him monster, call him traitor—he’ll carve out a life worth living, and smile while he does it.

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.”