Evolution of the Ruined Heir - Chapter 122: Problem

I definitely just wanted to be a VTuber… But when I came to my senses, I had become an actor.

WSA 2025 Entry—Updates on Weekdays#wsa #wsa2025Demon Kings.The Strongest Demons who stand at the peak of the Demon race’s hierarchy.Each one of them wields such overwhelming power that they sit at the top of the Universe’s food chain; among its strongest beings.When the reborn Xaren laid eyes upon the visage of one of these Demon Kings, all he could feel was endless admiration towards the immense power displayed.At that moment, he gained a goal to strive for in this second life of his.He was originally just living to survive, but now, he was living for something else.The path ahead was going to be rocky, riddled with trials, and standing in his way forward would be the many horrors that lurked in the corners of the Universe.But he’s not gonna let that stop him.After all, he’s Gonna Be a Demon King![Check out my other stories from my profile: Godslayer’s Legend, Reincarnated Hero System & Beyond the Bloodline]

I’m a short blind loser who can’t even walk or see properly without the sword?Yes… That’s exactly itBut that doesn’t mean the sword is my main body…!

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.”