The Police Called Me For The Filing, Revealing Me, A Master - Chapter 647 - : Shocking Act! Physical Body Resist Missiles! (3)

Explore the Universe through the hardest, truest weapon: the Fist.

Jack Rust was a disillusioned biologist with a PhD—almost. When an extraterrestrial AI calling itself the System invaded Earth and thrust it into a world of aliens and violence, the least Jack hoped for was magic. Unfortunately, the System decided to spawn a forest dungeon around him and a goblin in his face, which left him little choice.

Armed with nothing but his fists, Jack must grow strong enough to survive entire menageries of monsters. He needs to return to civilization and find out what the hell is going on. He might also get magic—or not. Surprising himself, Jack discovers that violence is fun.

In this battle-ridden new world, Jack finds the life he always dreamed about. He won’t just survive. He will thrive.

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I lived my whole life as a s*ave, bound by a leash. But there was one thing that I was able to choose for myself: the place where I would die.“…Any last words?”My only friend asked me in a calm voice, and I quietly replied as I closed my eyes.“Waaaah!”…Waaaah?To cut to the chase, I was reincarnated. And not just as anyone, but as my friend’s youngest grandson. So, what am I going to do now? Well, what else can I do?“I’m going to cause chaos.”

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Once poisoned, she became her!

Open up your voice, recruit talented people, and make the country rich and the people strong.

Let’s see how a generation of female emperors laugh at the country, strategize, and win a decisive victory thousands of miles away!

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- Description from novelbuddy

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.”