He Stole Me From My Deadbeat Husband - Chapter 12

The world changed the day that cracks appeared in the sky– suddenly monsters named『Demonic Beasts』appeared and began to rampage, attacking people.

Meanwhile, girls called『Magical Girls』began to appear to counter the demonic beasts. As they defeated the demonic beasts, gradually people’s lives gained a semblance of composure.

–but when there is light, there is also darkness.

In the corner of an alleyway, a boy who had been attacked by a demonic beast was dying. His voice begging for help did not reach anyone and his body refused to move.

「Boy. Do you want to be saved?」

Looking into the boy’s face, a black cat began to speak to him.

The boy nodded firmly to the devilishly sweet invitation, in response the black cat mocked him.

「Is that so—then I’ll【Haunt (Save)】you」

—on that day, a『Magical Girl』was born in a place that no-one knew.

『She』never laments, no matter what the future may bring.

Reincarnated with major advantages selected in haste. The new world is vast and hostile...a world almost infinite in scope. Essentially a Dyson Sphere created by magic and sustained by magic. A World Sphere. Can the MC delve into the mysteries of the sphere?

Xiao YuAn transmigrated into a novel as the homosexual young Emperor imprisoning the Male Lead of a Stallion Novel.

This is indeed miserable, and sad.

Because of this, Xiao YuAn began to work hard to survive.

But!

“To those cannon fodders, even if you want to treat the Male Lead bad, can you stop sending him to my bed?” Xiao YuAn thinks that there’s nothing wrong in pampering the Male Lead, but that’s just because he wants to bathe in the Protagonist halo!

Xiao YuAn: “Don’t abuse the Male Lead ever again!!! You guys aren’t afraid of death, but I want to live!!!”

A story that starts out with the Shou taking care of the Gong, and then, the Gong takes care of the Shou.

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.”