Duskbound - Chapter 124 - Book 2, 45

I was nothing. A lowly omega, destined to live in the shadows of stronger wolves. But on the night of my eighteenth birthday, the moon had other plans for me. My mate was an Alpha’s son. The problem? He wasn’t the only one. The Blackwood triplets—Kael, Ronan, and Darian—each bore the same mark that bound them to me.To be Luna, I would have to survive the chaos of three powerful mates, a jealous rival who wanted my place, and a secret buried deep in my bloodline.Because being chosen by the moon was never a gift. It was a curse.

All Things of this World, Turn to Ashes, Flowing Blade-like Flame!

In the age of interstellar exploration, three hundred years ago, Mage explorers from the yellow river planet took their first step towards outer space.

It was a joyous event for every mage on that planet, yet unfortunately, space is dominated by other races.

The Peak level Mage from the Yellow River Planet was the weakest power in existence among other outer space races. It's a cruel reality for everyone.

From then on, every mage from the Yellow River Planet began to increase their power level by consuming outer space resources.

Then they constantly researched, upgraded the power level system and tried to pave the way for the next generation of space explorers.

Now, our MC Vincent Carey's ambition is to be the next generation of space explorers.

How is he going to increase his strength and compete among other races to get resources?

How is the unknown little yellow river planet going to be known and feared by others?

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.”