I Became the Demon King of Lust - Chapter 382 Second round (11)

In a realm where magic entwines with conspiracy and tradition challenges power, an unexpected hero arises, not from the illustrious ranks of the Imperion nobility, but from the oft-overlooked Terrans—humans. Welcome to the world of Viktor Dravos, a saga that morphs the traditional fantasy narrative into an exhilarating journey of adventure, cunning, and introspective dilemmas.Viktor Dravos—assassin, wizard, and reluctant gentleman—is your unconventional protagonist, navigating the precarious intricacies of Imperion society. As a member of the House of Vorgan, the secretive underworld of the Kingdom, Viktor is privy to the hidden threads that manipulate the core of Imperion politics.

Quinn Winter is a young man from another world. One day, he is suddenly chosen to become the new Demon King. But the Demon Kingdom is in big trouble – it's losing a terrible war against the human kingdom called Gran'le.To help his people, Quinn comes up with a risky plan. He will sneak into Gran'le and learn their secrets. But things don’t go as planned. A powerful noble sponsors him, and he ends up joining Heavenward Academy, the top school for training future heroes.At the Academy, there's a big challenge called the Selection. The best students become Paladins – magic knights who fight demons. Quinn doesn’t want to become a Paladin. He is a demon king! But now, he’s stuck in the Selection… and if he wins, he’ll become the very thing he’s supposed to destroy.He started the day badly. Now, things are getting even worse.

At the moment when he was about to be buried alive by the villagers, he blew himself up… no, he saved himself successfully.

He just wants to live and die in this era, but… that woman is too crazy.

…

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- Description from novelbuddy

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.”