I’m the Evil Lord of an Intergalactic State! - Chapter 97 - Vol. 6 Chapter 8 – The Names of Two People

He became Arthur. He lived his life as Arthur and claimed Excalibur.Now, he has returned with a purpose.Beneath the surface of the world lies a twisted world known as the veil—an dimension where monsters are born from corrupted human emotions and desire. The deeper you go, the more terrifying they become.Each Layer is sealed. Each hides a god-like being, waiting to rise to the surface.Now, Sylas bears the responsibility of keeping the gate between both worlds from breaking.[Keys are passed down through generations.No one knows where they came from, but those keys can open doors to another world — a world filled with deadly trials. If you complete the trial, you return with blessings from gods, mythical beasts, and ancient warriors. The amount of blessings you earn depends on how well you perform.But if you fail, the door shatters… and you are gone forever.If you survive, you are given a permanent rank — a rank that decides your place in society for the rest of your life.]

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.”

The Nine Tribulations Immortal Venerable is reborn in the city, sweeping away contemporary enemies.In front of me, brothers stand. Enemies kneel. Foes lie down.Women, any pose is OK.

10 years searching for his lost sibling.