Building a Gaming Empire From Scratch - Chapter 598 - 566: How Can a Competition with a Bug be Interesting?

Objects from beyond the Earth have fallen; eyes of crimson see through the cosmos.All the stars in the sky are enemies of humanity.They call me a false god, but only I fly above.The world is sick, gravely so.I will heal it.

I drew a lottery at the Shopping District and won the privilege to go to another world. After drawing a lot of balls, unexpectedly I got a cheat-like skill. Silencing those who are noisy and getting hold of all the things that I want. I will satisfy all my desires.

Rob was a high-level hacker and wanted by many government organizations because he leaked the secrets of many countries. So he didn't dare to come out of his hiding much. Since he was alone, he lived a difficult life, which that he found the joy and the excitement of life in only two things: The rule of the Internet, and the anime world. One day he came across an interesting advertisement on his personal computer that turned his life upside down.[Ding!] [The art publishing system is being prepared...] [The system is ready!] From that time onwards his goal became to draw One Piece manga in the pirates' world!

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.”