MTL - I Ran Away After I Online-dated the Slag Marshal - Chapter 37 Make cakes for the marshal

“Is this a game, or did aliens make me time-travel?”

“It’s terrifying, people who die in the game actually die in the real world!”

“Damn, the whole city is mine, and there are still things that can be brought from the game to the real world, it’s just…”

Song Jian aimlessly wandered through the empty city, accompanied only by mutated zombies and monsters. His only goal now was to survive in such a zombie-infested Doomsday City.

……………………………………………………………

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Travel to the game world.

Matthew found that there seemed to be a little problem with his system.

…

“Occupation: Necromancer

Task: plant trees

Target: 1000 trees

Reward: Summoned item ‘Bone Dragon’ & a lot of EXP”

…

In this way, a necromancer who respected the way of balance more than the druid was born.

…

- Description from novelbuddy

[WARNING]****** /THIS NOVEL CONTAINS EXPLICT SEXUAL CONTENT, CURSE LANGUAGE **** * ** ******* * **** AUDIENCE DISCRETION IS ADVISED“I’m in a relationship with a stunningly beautiful and irresistibly alluring girlfriend, whose charm and grace are unmatched. Winning her heart wasn’t easy, but I thought she was the embodiment of virtue and innocence. However, one day, I discovered a side of her I never anticipated—through our apartment window, I saw a connection with her ex that left me in disbelief. I never would have guessed she could have such a hidden side.”[A/N][this isn't a fast-paced novel, so for all those looking for an early revenge it's not coming now, it's just a casual novel read if you like it]

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.”