MTL - Little Madman’s Guide to Acting Good - Chapter 26

Raon’s entire life had been lived as a dog on a leash.

Through a twist of fate, he obtained a new life.

Wrath remained in the wreckage of his destroyed leash.

Finally capable of standing on his own feet, he decided to live life by his own will.

He would slay anyone standing in his way…

Even if they were a god.

Lin An's life underwent a drastic change.The basketball under his bed had turned into a bleeding head, which would hop next to his pillow and hum softly by his ear at midnight. The subway racing into the station had become a gigantic lizard, opening its gaping maw, waiting for him to line up and feed it.The world was not as simple as he had imagined. Behind the bustle of the city, the Witch Hunter Knights roamed in search of evil wizards to slay.The ordinary worker, Lin An, inadvertently became a member of the Antler Witch-Hunting Knight Order, shouldering the glorious mission to protect humanity.He must be careful, careful, and then even more careful.Careful not to reveal his true identity as a wizard.…“Why Hunt a Cowardly Innocent Wizard?!”

Elia is a poor university student until the night she’s taken to the world of the Anima—ruled by humans whose ancient hearts pulse with the blood of animals. There she’s forced into a battle to the death. But when Elia survives, and refuses to kill her final opponent, the King must either kill Elia himself, or take her as his mate.

Reth, the brutal King of the Beasts with the blood of lions, shocks everyone when he chooses the weak, human Elia to become his Queen. He promises her every comfort of his wealth and position—but he is clear: She will not warm his bed. He chose her to defeat those that were trying to corner him into blending his Leonine line with the Wolves.

Elia needs the help of the Anima to become stronger and rule them well. But the vengeful Wolves see only a weak human that brought them shame. As Elia and Reth grow closer, the wolves are determined to destroy her. Will Reth and Elia admit their feelings for each in time to fight for the Kingdom—and their lives—against the villainous wolf-tribe? Or will the wolves kill Elia and steal the throne?

[Mature content - no sexual violence]

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He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

“Elia,” she breathed.

“Elia,” he growled, leaning in closer, bringing with him the scent of pine and rain and the musk of something distinctly male. “I am Reth.” He said the name with a strange, guttural roll in his throat. “I am King of Beasts. I am Clan Leader, and I am Alpha of WildWood.” Several snarls rose from the crowds behind him then, but he ignored them.

Elia swallowed as he leaned in until the scruff on his jaw rasped her cheek. “I am the King,” he said, “And you will be my mate.”

The forest behind him erupted.

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.”