Dear Immortal Tyrant - Chapter 22 - Wash Away The Sins

Aizel has been depressed since he was a young man. From being tormented in school to being treated as an outcast solely because he is an antisocial person, the only things that kept him going were novels, manga, piano, and sword practice.He never anticipated being transferred to another world while drunk by the side of a lake under the moon. The world with mana is filled with superpowers, magic, and monsters, and he is unsure whether he is dreaming or not.Only to discover later that he possesses a power that may be called the most deadliest thing he could have ever imagined, but with limitations and drawbacks...“All of the kingdoms, magic, and everything about Xelgar fascinate me. But what Alora said makes me very curious.”“I knew I could easily use sword skills, fire skills, and techniques because I had seen and read so many anime and novels. I still can't believe that there is now a unique power as well.”“Is it true that I possess the power of imagination, as Alora claims? Isn't that a little overpowering? However, I was still unable to use some techniques and skills in the fights. The power has a disadvantage and a limitation.”“Is that because of my cracked core? If I can somehow recover it, will I be able to do anything just by imagining?”

The night that was supposed to be the peak of my life became the night I lost everything.My step-sister Rose stole my achievements.My fiancé chose her over me.My father handed over the company I built with my own hands… to her.And when I finally walked away, broken and exhausted, Karl followed me home—drunk, furious, and ready to destroy what little I had left.One blow to the head was all it took to end Jenna Harvour.At least, that’s what the world was meant to believe.I didn’t die.I woke up drugged, half-conscious, and listening to people decide how to “dispose” of me. I heard Rose’s voice ordering my death to be written off as suicide.I heard doctors bargaining over my body.And when I was finally strong enough to open my eyes, I was greeted by a stranger’s face and a new name forced onto me: Jenna Lorance.They buried my old identity.They held a funeral with my name on it.And I was expected to disappear quietly into this new life they created.But the world doesn’t get rid of me that easily.My unexpected lifeline comes in the form of Damian Black—the heir to the largest mafia syndicate and the last person I ever thought would notice me. He shouldn’t care about a woman like me… yet he’s the only one who looks at me as if he can sense the truth beneath my new skin.Revenge is easy.Escaping him is not.Because once a man like Damian decides you’re his, he doesn’t let go—not even if the whole world believes you’re already dead._________Re-upload because I needed to fix first 6 chapters[Warning: Mature Context, R18+]

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.”

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