Leveling with the Gods - Chapter 83

I had to take him home and raise him. There was no bathtub or a large basin at home, so I had to put him in the washing machine for the time being.

It was an hour later before I remembered it again, by which he had been washed extremely clean.

- Description from Novelupdates

Chu Qin, a seasoned otaku, with a deep passion for watching the Soul Land anime, had the chance encounter to actually traverse to this place.Moreover, he awakened the Goddess System.

“Do you want to know how this works?” he whispered.“Yes!” I gasped in response to his tug on my hair. “I want to know.”“Yes, what?” he asked, causing my mind to swirl with the realization of what he was into.“Yes, sir. I can be a good girl.”****For Becca, going to Miami brought up old childhood memories with her best friend, Tally. She needed the break after a rough year attending Yale and a break-up with her boyfriend, Chad. She didn’t expect for her summer of fun to include sleeping with James, the Italian Stallion–Tally’s father.Knowing it’s wrong, she allows James to pull her into a vortex of pleasure that has her breaching the surface of reality and grasping for survival. Can Becca endure this pleasure without Tally finding out?Or will her secrets cause her world to crash around her?Submitting to My Best Friend’s Dad is created by Scarlett Rossi, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

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.”