How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony - Chapter 8: Planting for the Future

The world had started doomsday, and I struggled for a year, before I died under an enchanted beast’s claw. Heaven has given me another chance, back a day before the end happen. Will I be able to change my fate, and that of my loved ones? Now, I will start my journey on becoming the strongest on the planet that the Gods have changed into a game world.

Yila, who had served the empire for half her life, was decisively sold. He was almost beaten to death when he wanted to go to other countries, and was rescued by the Dragon Lady Demon King.

After crossing over, Ira, who had killed monsters for half her life, was a little guilty, but…

【Those who fight against the evil dragon should be careful not to become the husband of the dragon…】

[When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss… offers a kiss. 】

Ira Alcaraz: ? ? ?

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(Slow heat farming text…probably)

Book Friends Group (playing with the crescent moon madman): 【926993534】

- Description from novelbuddy

This is a story of Xia An, a transmigrator from the end of the world, who transmigrates into the body of a cannon fodder who was the mother of the villain.

- Description from Wattpad

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.”