The True Heiress Is The Real Bigshot - Chapter 753 - 609 Xie Family, out! [2 updates]

I possessed the weakest character in my favorite game’s Hell Mode. I want to survive, but the way the main character is being controlled is atrocious.

It can’t be helped.

I have to stop the bad ending myself.

‘I must entertain the masses.’ This was Jester’s lifelong goal.After leading 12 different lives as a Hero, King, Sage, Jester, and more, all he wanted was to mock the king and his court.Unfortunately for him, his majesty didn’t appreciate his vicious jokes.Jester died, trying to flee for his life. But death wasn’t the end for him.For his 13th and last life, he triggered the Archetype System and reincarnated in a world of magic and perils.[This is your last life. Don’t waste it!][Welcome to the world of Archetypes!]Oh, before I forget, soon, players from Earth would flood into his new world.But even players won't escape from his clutches! Even people from the Earth will be tamed!

A world where waves of monsters descend every night...A world where only the strong can survive.Axel, a burned-out man from modern Earth, wakes up in a desolate wasteland with nothing but a strange “Harem Settlement System” with him.Given the power to build, command, and grow stronger, he sets off to carve out a safe haven in this broken world. But as his settlement grows, so does the number of beautiful and deadly women drawn under his blanket-ahem!-banner.Witness Axel's journey, rising to to the peak. From a simple, lone survivor to becoming the Wasteland Overlord. With the help of the loyal, dangerous, and irresistible thirsty harem girls!

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.”