Invincible Saint Salaryman the Path I Walk to Survive in This Other World - Chapter 239: Time flows equally

The Demon King dies and the entire Demon Realm perishes in the prologue of “The Demon King is Dead,” and I have become the Demon Prince of that novel.

… Somebody save me.

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Tiara was killed in the real world and then reincarnated to live in the body of a noblewoman in the novel she read named Claudia Ambelynn. When she lived in the novel world, she was reunited with the main protagonist who was her husband who was killed in the real world. In addition, she also met the murderer in the novel world and also played the role of the main protagonist's older brother who was known as the most cruel character. It was not that easy for Tiara to live in the novel world written by her husband. She had to carry out a mission that she had to conquer the heart of the antagonist, Duke Harry, in order to return to the real world. This made Tiara think, if she lived in Claudia's body and married Harry, then she could take revenge on the murderer who killed her husband in the real world. The way to do that, she would try everything so that Harry would really fall in love with her. She was forced to cancel her engagement with Duke Harris in order to take revenge on Duke Harry. How did Claudia succeed in conquering Duke Harry's heart?

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.”