Transmigration: Into the Life of Severus Snape - Chapter 70 - 67: Terms of the Game

Leon, who suddenly died from the wear and tear of his corporate drone life, got a second chance in America. This time he wanted to live a different life and incidentally find out just how far human limits could go.----------Featuring: Riding, Running, Arm-wrestling competitions, Titan Games, Slapping Contests, Strongman Competitions, UFC Mixed Martial Arts

Our MC dies from an accidental electrocution and ends up inhabiting the body of a young prince in another world, his new profession being the Necromancer he chose in the game he was playing before his untimely demise. However, things are not what they seem – including his own Necromancy skills!

Oaks Lin was favored by the force of nature and was reborn in the Marvel world.

But this world is at stake…

The three avenues against fate—

Technology, mutation, magic.

So be a scientist who looks like mutants actually use magic?

“Just hit De! Just hit De!”

In the face of the army led by the Avengers, Thanos was furious:

“Why did the one who was hacked to death just now get up again!”

“Damn beasts, eat a knife from this seat!”

“Big Gugu – Flutter your wings!”

“…Turn the fire!”

Thanos turned around and slashed through Team America’s shield:

“You said you could play all day?”

This is a story about a Druid who pretends to be a scientist and survives in the Marvel world.

(Marvel Cinematic Universe MCU background)

———————————————————————————

Completed the works “Pirates of Light Swordsman” and “Guardian of Tirisfal of Konoha”

Personality Guarantee

- 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.”