MTL - Rebirth: Degenerate Slave Abuses Tyrant - ~ Who can accompany you after the death of 454?

Our MC dies from an accidental electrocution and ends up inhabiting the body of a young prince in another world, his new profession being the Necromancer he chose in the game he was playing before his untimely demise. However, things are not what they seem – including his own Necromancy skills!

“How did you board the Astral Express, walk the Path of the Stars?”“Because I ended the Honkai, altered everyone's fate.”“So your first step on this path was becoming a hero?”“No, it was for survival, searching for a thigh to cling to.”“And then?”Ryan adjusted his glasses, his voice resounding.“I became the thigh.”

In the 1980s, a man came to Hong Kong Island and rose from chaos and darkness.

Establish a mercenary group, acquire a power media company, intervene in the international oil trade, call the shots in the financial world, and stand as a tripartite in the real estate industry.

He established a symbol of an era, the Galactic Empire!

He established a family chaebol that spanned the century, the Su family!

A hundred years later, a world masterpiece “Economic War” was published, and for the first time people deeply realized the mystery and horror of this family.

“In the 100 years since the establishment of the Galaxy Group in the 1980s, it can be seen behind almost every major change in the world.”

The world-renowned economist Lawrence wrote in his book “The Invisible Black Hand”: “When the voice of money resounds, the power of power emerges, the world will bow before this family…

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”