MTL - Steel, Guns and the Industrial Party Across the World - Chapter 610 king finger five

I can see ghosts. Even the ghosts inside games. But then…”Ah! Not there, over that way! My family heirloom is hidden there.” The ghosts in the game keep revealing hidden pieces to me.

When she agrees to help her friend out in a blind date, she never imagined it would lead her to the one man she'd hoped never to encounter again—her child's father.Her first instinct? Run. But life has other plans, and she finds herself inescapably drawn back into his orbit as his company's legal advisor.Just as she's poised to resign, escaping the tangled web of personal and professional ties, she's cornered in his office by the man who is as relentless in business as he is in pursuit of her heart.In a game of cat and mouse, she is faced with a choice: succumb to the undeniable chemistry that still sizzles between them or risk it all to maintain the distance she's fought so hard to keep.

Kim Taejune, wanted to be a “hero,” a “savior” to all the weak. After reading books about them, he too wanted to be one. Yet he lacked power, he didn't have any skills, and the command system everyone else had but one day, his dream will come true. His path leads him to encounter Yoon Harin a woman who after the death of her twin younger brother Yoon Jiho was transmigrated into his novel, “Calamity Hunter” the “god” of this world makes a deal with Yoon Harin to bring her brother back to life IF she can survive as a savior till the end.

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.”