Path of Alchemy Mastery - Chapter 523 - 537: Suppression

“Hey, wait! I'm not a god, I'm just a guy who loves trash!”Rhys loves trash. Trashy anime, trashy novels, trashy games, he can't get enough. Which was all well and good until one day, his passion for trash gets him mistaken as an actual trash god. Whisked away into another world, Rhys wakes up in a trash heap as a trash talent with trash skills and no chance of progression. Given his trashy start, it seems there's no hope for him.Or at least, there wouldn't be for a lesser man. But Rhys loves trash.There's only one path before him. Embrace the trash! Empower the trash! Dig the diamonds out from the trash! Polish the trash until it shines brighter than gold! If there's one thing Rhys is passionate about, it's trash. And even in another world, he isn't going to stop until he proves that trash shouldn't be overlooked!What to expect: Trash charactersTrash skillsTrash storyNumber go upCultivation-style systemFast-paced progression

Chiyuki Hoshino, a beautiful otaku girl, traveled to the world of Yu-Gi-Oh! with her Fate/Grand Order Heroic Spirit deck.“Blue-Eyes White Dragon!”“Activate the effect of Arash! Stella!”“My most loyal servant, the Dark Magician!”“Activate the effect of Arash! Stella!”“I…”“Activate the effect of Arash! Stella!!!”Amid the ruins and countless corpses (thanks to Arash), Chiyuki wiped her forehead and smiled brightly. “Playing cards is so damn interesting.”For those interested in reading this fanfic, please note that I am not the original author. I have only translated and edited it to make it as readable as possible.

In alternative reality, what if a young padawan that is a descendant of the great Jedi Master Avar Kriss, helped transform the Jedi Order forever and hook some girls in the mean time.(This novel will have elements of the legends to).

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.”