Tranxending Vision - Chapter 87

Aziz, a young orphan, had always known there was something different inside him. Despite the achievements and the luxury that surrounded him, he felt empty — as if something essential was missing.On a silent night, lost in thought, he fell asleep in search of answers.Little did he know that would be his last night in this world.——-Guys, this is my first time writing a novel. Support me with a gift if you can.

Ruins stretched across the landscape in the apocalypse after the nuclear war.

This work portrays the perspective of Yuhanna, a masochist, as she falls into a state lower than livestock, ultimately becoming a mere human toilet.This is an extremely dark and hardcore explicit story.It delves into almost all hardcore genres feasible in a modern setting, excluding fantastical elements.Hardcore | Dark | Masochist | Submission |Incest| SM | R18 | SMUT

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.”