MTL - Cannon Fodder is Too Frivolous: Emperor Zun, No Appointment - Chapter 1316 No wonder it looks so uncomfortable, looking at

Sa gitna ng kabundukang binabalot ng misteryo, lumaki si Esmeralda, isang dalagang manunugis na may kakaibang lakas at talas ng pakiramdam, sa kalinga ni Ismael— isang albularyong umampon sa kanya dalawang dekada na ang nakalilipas. Ngunit sa kabila nito, nakatago ang isang katotohanang unti-unting mabubunyag— ang lihim ng kanyang pinagmulan na bumabagtas sa hangganan ng tao at mundo ng kakaibang elemento.Sa pagbabalik nila sa baryo ng kanyang lolo, harapin ni Esmeralda, hindi lamang ang sigalot sa pagitan ng kinalakhang pamilya, kun 'di pati na rin ang mga lihim ng kanyang pagkatao. Sa gitna ng pamilyar na tanawin ng baryo, magtatagpo ang landas nila ng mga taong magiging parte ng buhay niya— mayroong magiging gabay sa kaniyang pagtuklas at may iilan namang magdudulot ng kapahamakan at kalituhan sa kaniyang paghahanap ng kasagutan.Sino ba talaga siya? At ano ang pinagmulan niya?Ngunit sa bawat hakbang niya patungo sa pagtuklas ng katotohanan, lalong lalalim ang ugnayan niya sa mga anino ng mga nilalang na walang ibang nais kun 'di ang kaniyang pagkawasak. Sa bawat mutyang mahahawakan ni Esmeralda, sisigaw ang nakaraan— at sa bawat sigaw nito, unti-unting mabubuo ang kwento ng isang salinlahing nababalot ng hiwaga na siyang uukit at huhubog sa kaniyang pagkatao.

In a world where Classes, Stats, and Levels are the everyday norm, Reivyn has a secret.He was unusually aware of his surroundings from an incredibly early age, and Skills and Stats were acquired easily. He was just the son of an ordinary village family, and nothing appeared out of the ordinary on the surface. But below the surface, dreams of another life help shape his mentality and growth. Why does he have some remembrance of a past life, and what is his purpose in this new one?“Soul of the Warrior” is what I call a Semi-Isekai LitRPG. I say “semi,” because Reivyn's past life is remembered like a dream, and very incomplete. It is still Isekai, though, as he remembers enough that it directly shapes his personality and his sense of self.The System that governs the world of “Soul of the Warrior” is a combination of modified versions from Selkie's “Beneath the Dragoneye Moons” and Kosnik4's “Magic Smithing.” I have changed enough of these Systems and combined them in a way that is unique that I'm mostly sure it's fine, but I still have requested permission to use these ideas. They have both graciously granted me permission.Winner of the April Writathon Challenge.

“Only by enduring 2¹⁴ trials can one awaken the ancient power sleeping within the Key of the Star Prison, and become the most powerful being in the universe.”Timothy, the youngest Demon Lord in the history of his race, saw these words emerge after he touched the Key of the Star Prison, the most powerful artifact of the demon race, handed to him just before the old Demon Lord's death.According to the demon race's records, no Demon Lord had ever achieved this.However, over a span of a hundred thousand years, Timothy had easily passed 16,383 trials.Now, once again, he turned the Key of the Star Prison, and an unknown force mistakenly sent him to a brand new world, transforming him into an unknown and seemingly worthless demonic cultivator disciple.And the formidable opponent he was about to face in this world was the powerful Goddess Sylvia.When Goddess Sylvia received the challenge Timothy handed her, her cheeks flushed...“My dear Sylvia, I want you to know how deeply I love you. My heart belongs to you, now and forever.”

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.”