Martial God Space - Chapter 943: Running Away

[WSA 2025 ENTRY]“Seriously? Of all the people I could’ve become, I get stuck as him?”Damien, a shut-in who spends his days cursing his favourite authors for every plot twist he didn’t like, meets his end at the hands of a mysterious woman.Just when he thinks his life is over, Damien wakes up as Alden Draven, an extra character inside his favourite novel.You know, the kind of character who shows up for one chapter, says nothing important, and dies tragically in the background to move the plot forward. Yeah, 'that' guy.And guess what? His death is scheduled to happen in the first few chapters.But just as he resolves to not die and change his fate, he notices something’s off. The plot is... wrong. The characters aren't acting as they were meant to be, and the plot is all messed up.“This wasn’t supposed to happen; the stupid hero was supposed to fail miserably right about now! Is it just me, or did the entire plot get hijacked?” He muttered as it hits him....“F*ck! ”Is there another transmigrator?”And if that wasn’t enough, there's a yandere girl, one of the characters he's meant to interact with, who’s developed an unnatural obsession with him.

An Earthling soul awakens in the ailing body of Loryarc Lapizburn, a disabled young man betrothed to the second daughter of the notorious Hallmeavan Family.The Goddess of Kiss blesses him with a unique ability known as the [Kiss for More] System, which allows him to gain skills by kissing.Can this new soul confront the dark secrets hidden within the Hallmeavan bloodline using his System?What about the chaos in his predecessor's county, where the branch families are constantly at odds?Why did the Goddess of Kiss choose him to receive this System?Kiss, kiss, and keep kissing...What awaits him in the end?Anything is possible... through kisses!

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.”