Sevens - Volume 18 - Chapter 18: An End and a Beginning

In a world where villains are crafted, not born, Vyan's life takes a detour from dull to downright dramatic faster than he can say “abracadabra.”Meet Vyan, the most ordinary knight in the realm, with all the magical prowess of a damp sock. Loyalty? He's got it in spades. Betrayal? Well, that's the surprise twist in his not-so-fairy-tale life.Framed and forsaken, Vyan is left with nothing but a grudge and some pretty gnarly scars, courtesy of his once-master, Iyana. Oh, did he mention she is the daughter of a marquess and the object of his unrequited affection? Talk about adding insult to injury.Just when he is ready to unleash his inner berserker, a butler comes along with news that makes his hair stand on end: Vyan is the last heir of the Grand Duke's mage dynasty!With power crackling at his fingertips and more mana than he can shake a wand at, Vyan is ready to show the world what happens when you underestimate the underdog. Will Vyan rise from the ashes like a phoenix, or will he crash and burn like a fire-breathing chicken? There's only one way to find out.

The labyrinth that swallowed humanity. Four choices were given to them.

Easy Mode, where anyone can survive. Normal Mode, where only those who fight survive. Hard Mode, where only 1% can survive. And the Solo Mode, where only one person survived.

The strongest returnee of humanity, Kang Taesan, was an Easy Mode player.

He heard countless times,

“What if you had chosen the Hard Mode, or even the Normal Mode?”

Regretting his cowardly choice while dying amidst destruction, he gets another chance to choose.

“This time, I won’t make the wrong choice.”

The strongest Easy Mode player has returned.

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.”