EPIC: Path of Demons and Dragons - Chapter 260: Admission

I transmigrated into a novel that I was reading.“But of all people, why did it have to be Kamon Vade?!”The problem here is this: the character I transmigrated as was a third-rate villain who appeared at the beginning of the original story, but after he had been accused of attacking the imperial princess, he disappeared and left the stage.“Haah, fine. The novel never said that I died anyway. So, I just need to somehow hold out and endure in the academy, right?”But…Maybe because I refused to exit the novel, ‘death’ keeps following me around.‘Motherfxxxer, this is like the fantasy novel version of Final Destination!’Damn it, I have to survive somehow.And I will! No matter what!

Benedict was transported to a world of cultivation and awakened the Invincible Domain system. Within this domain, he was invincible!

Content Warning: R-18, Fantasy-Smut, Fetishes.Luke Hunter was once an average dairy farmer who lived in the countryside and supplied milk to a large company.After getting involved in a work-related accident, he dies a virgin and gets reincarnated into a fantasy world as the son of a very rich and powerful noble.Even though his noble family's domain is still in the countryside, this new life is nothing like the previous one.He has MoneyHe has Magic.He has a System.... And he has a big PP!Watch as Luke Hunter, the last born of the Hunter Noble Family, and only male heir to the Dukedom, begins to achieve his dream of tasting the breastmilk of women belonging to every single race in this fantasy world.The journey of Milk Harvesting is just beginning!

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.”