Horror Game Developer: My games aren't that scary! - Chapter 29: Scream [3]

A sudden and unprecedented event occurred and took place on Earth.A fissure instantly appeared in the clear blue sky, revealing a void devoid of any light beyond, instantly covering the whole planet, leaving no Life, no Hell, and no Paradise behind...Hence the start of a new chaos and a great beginning of life devoid of any hope began.In this apocalypse and lawless world without any limits set upon its beings, a silent dark wisp took form.A wisp that was bound to become the Horror of All was born...“Wait… I’ve become a Ghost?!”

What do humans want most, money, fame, power?

When I was given a choice I wasn't blinded by greed and due to that my new life in another world started.

If you were given a second chance, will you follow your desires even if they were against common sense?

Geniuses, Demons, Gods? as long as they stand in my way the will be returned to nothingness.

Follow Aster on his travel trough the multiple planets and realms as he gains the title “The Perverted Primordial”

Reborn as a sister of a villain with no blood or tears in a war-fiction novel. Anyway, that guy, who plays ‘my brother’ role, is a villain who will be sealed by the Main Lead after losing the war. So I just need to pretend to be his little sister until he disappears. No, at least that’s how I think … ‘Something in your right hand, is that the main lead’s head?’ My brother won the war. *** “What’s with the suitcase?” “Yes?” At the tip of Dietrich’s long finger, there was a package that I had wrapped up as soon as he left for the battlefield. “I asked what it is.” “It’s, It’s a travel bag, brother.” “Travel? Alone?” Dietrich’s dark eyes glistened. The man who had just returned from victory had a strange smell of blood from mu*der. “Will you leave me?”

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.”