Is It Bad That the Main Character's a Roleplayer? - Chapter 99: Existence (1)

Twenty years after the slow apocalypse that tore humanity apart, the world has adapted—turning it all into a Game. A Game where millions die each month, without fail.Amidst the ashes of the fallen, a mysterious young man named Adam emerges.In a world where Heroes, monsters, and warfare have become entertainment, Adam has kept to the shadows. That is, until he is summoned to fight.But Adam harbors a secret far greater than the Game itself.***MC is a kind, cute, wolverine honey badger bunny.

After an accidental electrocution, Zhang Yi realized he could hide his body and become an invisible man. That incident marked a new chapter in his life. The magnificent president of the company, the hot policewoman, and the mischievous daughter of a rich man.“Apologies. I'm a righteous man. I've never abused my power of turning invisible to creep on beautiful girls, because I'd only stand boldly before them to look at them! You can't see me. You can't see me. You can't see me…”

“When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait.”In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.Vetrulfr, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.But all will know his name.and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.

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.”