Don’t Concern Yourself With That Book - Chapter 258

Kiro is a slave branded with a deadly collar, forced to work in brutal mines under the ruthless Kargal Empire. Each year, slaves are hunted for sport in the deadly Hunting Games—a fight to the death on a savage alien moon. This year, Kiro is chosen to play. Sent into a wilderness filled with monsters and traps, survival seems impossible. But something ancient watches from the shadows—and it has plans for him.

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.”

In the era of steam and mystery, becoming a correspondence student at the Thaumatology Academy was something Shad never thought of.

A whispering voice rang in my ears, who was reciting the poems of foreigners——

The old gods and aliens,

When the brassy rings of fate turn,

The golden runes are flickering.

steam surge,

the fire flickers,

Relic echoes,

The old gods revived.

The outstretched hand after the thick fog,

Pull back the hazy curtain of the crazy age.

Guests from afar explore the lands of the Old Continent,

Striking the melody of the next era.

Came here through the gate of time,

Shad put down his suitcase,

Look at the silvery moonlight overhead.

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