MTL - Male God Is Always Targeted - Chapter 1443 I also want to keep a low profile, but the strength does not allow it 31.47

Give me some ideas or references for the future plot of the story!

>English is not my main language as you all will see

>Will try my best to make the story enjoyable and can not promise that everyone will be happy as let's be real not all can be pleased

>The early chapters will be a bit slow-paced for the continuity of the story

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[Warning: Mature content R-18 ]My tags: Smart Mc - Harem - Milf Hunter- Op Mc - Cold and cunning Mc - edgy-Op-Mc, NO YURI, smut- romance-massacre.As flames scorched the land and blood painted the soil, a lone figure stood atop a mountain of fallen demigods and chosen apostles, his blade, a masterpiece of folded steel, dripping with the blood of those who dared to invade. The gods had taken everything: his clan, his love, leaving him with nothing but wrath. They had made one critical mistake, however, they had crossed into Makaiyama (魔界山), the sacred mountain of Ryukoku’s most feared legend: the Heavenly Demon.Beyond the veil of space and time, celestial beings gazed in shock. “Impossible…” one god whispered, watching as the Heavenly Demon, armed with nothing but raw skill and a dark aura, felled three divine kin. Rage flared across their ranks as they saw their immortal kin fall to mere mortal swordsmanship, untainted by magic.Even as the Heavenly Demon staggered, weapons lodged deep into his body, he fixed his gaze forward, crimson eyes blazing with defiance. His obsidian katana, blood-soaked, pierced the peak of Makaiyama like a stake driven into the heart of heaven itself. His voice echoed in the darkness between life and death, and there, in the chasm of despair, a metallic whisper resonated:“[Project God Executioner has been activated.]”“[Accept?]” the voice asked.With a heart ablaze, he swore vengeance. He would rise, not as a puppet, but as the gods' executioner.

“I, Logan Carter, Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, reject you, Emma Parker of the Crescent Moon Pack.”I could feel my heart breaking. Leon was howling inside me, and I could feel his pain.She was looking right at me, and I could see the pain in her eyes, but she refused to show it. Most wolves fall to their knees from pain. I wanted to fall to my knees and claw at my chest. But she didn’t. She was standing there with her head held high. She took a deep breath and closed her wonderful eyes.“I, Emma Parker of the Crescent Moon Pack, accept your rejection.”When Emma turns 18, she is surprised that her mate is the Alpha of her pack. But her happiness about finding her mate didn't last long. Her mate rejected her for a stronger she-wolf. That she-wolf hates Emma and wants to get rid of her, but that isn't the only thing Emma has to deal with. Emma finds out that she is not an ordinary wolf and that there are people who want to use her. They are dangerous. They will do everything to get what they want.What will Emma do? Will her mate regret rejecting her? Will her mate save her from the people around them?

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.”