Dragon of Time Control - Chapter 56 - Human_1

Chang An, capital of Tang, the most powerful empire in the continent. A heaven wrecking massacre shook the city to its core. Amidst the incident, a young boy named Ning Que managed to get away, dug out from a pile of corpses along with a little girl called Sang Sang. Years passed, and since that day the two of them lived together. Together with Sang Sang they both entered the military, with plausible military achievements, they were recommended into the Scholar School, which began their miraculous journey.

From a caste based high school, bottom-tier Naomi Masatsugu is caught up in a summon of his class to a different world. However, as soon as they arrived the king said, “This guy is unnecessary because he only has clumsy skills ” and it is concluded that he is to be forced to administer the orphanage, which no one wants to do. Unfortunately for the orphanage his skills were cheat skills that cause the girls to cling to him.

In order to “defend” the girls that depend on him, he must operate the orphanage while overcoming the powerful people, authorities, and former classmates that surround 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.”