My system allows me to copy talents - Chapter 382 Conclusion of group stage

Being raised by witches wasn't the end!It was the beginning for Menma's life as he had to deal with humans that hate the witches.And also travel across different dimensions to fight against unnatural beings that threatened his family.----------------------------------------------------Author here : if you enjoy reading a fresh unique new story, give mine a go.If you like it... perfectif you don't... tell me what i can do to improve itenjoy ;)

Until he became the lowest-ranked master, his lonely and luckless life never changed.

Suddenly one day, a descendant injected him with a nanomachine, and the machine started ‘speaking’ to him.

“What? What are you talking about?”

This was beyond the boy’s knowledge, he turned pale.

The Nanomachine linked to his cerebrum realized the User was not understanding a single word it said.

“Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”

“Nano Mashin?”

The boy’s face hardened.

Mashin was the deity the Mashin Religion worshipped, along with the Sacred Fire.

The religions’ Master communicated with Mashin.

“Um, are you really Mashin?”

The boy knelt down and asked with a trembling voice. At this, the Nanomachine attached to his cerebrum realized it had been misunderstood.

[The 3000th Descent of Mystery is about to begin.][This is your only chance to redeem yourself.]When the whole world was in danger, Wang Teng activated a unique talent.It was the Rank SSS talent - Inequivalent Exchange!He was not purchasing things for free, but the exchange was not equivalent.[Exchange successfully. You used half a bowl of cup noodles. With your Rank SSS talent, you may retrieve an unlimited supply of cup noodles.][Exchange successfully. You used a bottle of Sad Breeze wine to exchange for the Star Shifting Method.]…From then on, Wang Teng activated a new exchange system.

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.”