How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony - Chapter 216: Prank (4)

Apollo was a genius who was talented enough to achieve big things in his life, but because of a rare genetic disorder, everything came to an abrupt end.But when he thought everything was done, he again opened his eyes to another world as the baby of a noble family. Knowing that this might be his second chance, he decided to do everything he could to create a good and free life for himself.But surprisingly, this world is not simple, as there are beings with extraordinary power who can control the lives and deaths of others, giants who can crush mountains, dragons who can burn the seas, and many more. So now, to truly achieve his goals, Apollo needs to learn and adapt to this new world where life and death can be matters of thought.

“I beg you, please teach me how to pick up female angels!!!”
Pleaded the twelve-winged angel.

“Teacher!! How can I fool more people into my sect?”
Asked a devil in the devil world.

“Do you know how to save the family cat that died last night?”
Someone in the sky is too embarrassed and asks me quietly.

“All the angel, all the big deity, please I am not God, I am really just a summoner….”
I said painfully.

This is the story of a poor boy and how he becomes the greatest summoner who dominates the six worlds because of an accidental acquisition of Dimension.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”