The Darling of Heaven Owns a Rip-off Shop - Chapter 7: The Prince of Unyielding Spirit

The mid-level boss of my company’s AAA-game.

Born with an inauspicious birthmark on her forehead, Annalise finds out that she doesn’t have long to live.

Her determination to uncover the history behind her birthmark and get rid of it before her death day made her stumble into a temple, accidentally awakening the demon which had been sealed within but how could she have foreseen that her desperation would lead her to an even greater doom?

The prince of darkness, the most powerful, feared and merciless Roshan Arlow is finally back! With only one aim in mind and it screams vengeance!

But when a certain human keeps meddling with the affairs of his plans, he has to decide between getting rid of her or making her a pawn to his endless game.

Anna is desperate for the cure and even agrees to a game of foreplay one certain night.

But what happens when the demon starts to find her a little…. tempting?

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.”