Grasping Evil - Chapter 24: Godly Void Pavilion’s Little Demoness

Hello, my name is Hespera, and I am a psychopath or at least that is what all my doctors kept saying... and the god of reincarnation. He and the primordial of Chaos were quite the amusing duo. Oh, did I mention that I am also the first (and last) family member of Chaos. Yeah, that surprised me too. Apparently becoming a Blessed isn't easy.Anyway, I'm about to head out to my... hmm, fifth world? Or was it the sixth? Oh drat, I lost count! Well, whatever. It was lovely meeting you strange person from behind the screen. Please enjoy my life as-Girls! Stop groping me~

Shu finished the final chapter of a hated apocalypse novel, only to wake up inside it hours later. In Zoxhia, dungeons open without warning, monsters flood the streets, and even the strongest heroes die miserable deaths.The only reason Shu has not joined them yet is a cheat no one else has ever seen: a Domain that can grow into an absolute safe zone. Armed with incomplete knowledge of the story, a dangerous system, and a world already heading for ruin, Shu has to survive, grow stronger, and change an ending where the demons win and everyone dies.discord: https://discord.gg/WkyX6NuZZA

When disaster struck, Ling Mo knew that the kinds of zombies depicted in doomsday movies would in fact, be totally different from reality…

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.”