MTL - I’m Not Going to Be Bullied By a Girl - Chapter 3 The defendant was confessed

Have you ever thought what would happen if a character comes to life? And that character was from the novel that you have made. But that wasn't all. The only emotion that the character felt was resentment. It wants to kill you.Read this novel to find more. Join him, now her, in her journey.Extra Tags:- Gender Bender, Female Protagonist, Harem, Bottom ProtagonistNote: This world has troupe similar to ABO setting. The Protagonist is O whereas, the heroines are A. That means down the line, the protagonist would be pregnant.P.S: All the images are AI generated.

Durin Kesma is the third child of the Kesma family. He has three brothers and two sisters beside two brothers and a sister. It can be said that it was one of the worst that Dulin’s family was born at least for the generation.

- Description from Novelupdates

Behind the calm smile lies a heart riddled with scars.Beneath the weight of fate burns an unyielding gaze.A body trapped in the abyss of despair—if it reaches out, can it grasp the light called hope?A soul locked upon the rack of destiny—if it prays sincerely, can it embrace the future called redemption?

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.”