Virgin At 25 - Chapter 46: MR. LANGLEY

To correct the mistakes of his past, a young man is forced to narrow the space between science and witchcraft, as he ventures on a quest to save his world from complete destruction.

[You have just awakened your first dragon: SSS-Rank Fire Dragon.]Drahon was born with dragon-like horns, and because of that, his parents abandoned him at an orphanage. Mocked, bullied, and branded a freak, he never knew where he truly belonged.Until one day, while serving punishment, he stumbled upon a mysterious egg...A dragon egg that opened a portal and led him into The Dragon Game.[You have summoned an SSS-Rank Demon wrymling.][You have evolved your SSS-Rank Primordial Frost Dragon into a Multi Fire-Frost Dragon.][Upgrading Fire-Frost Dragon Roar ×10...]Bond with dragons and summon them in battle? Of course. All Ranked 'SSS'Draconic skills? Master them.Monster bosses? Shatter them.Half-dragon, half-monster abominations? Burn them.Mandatory roleplaying? Absolutely. Rule kingdoms, command medieval armies, and go to war.Enemies? They’re just EXP.And just after Level One, he uncovers the shocking truth behind the game’s existence...And discovers the reason for his horns: he’s half dragon, and that grants him the ability to transform into a half dragon, half human form.[You have just slain a cerberus-class half-dragon monster.][Absorbing essence...]And now?He’ll be more than the horned freak they abandoned —He’ll become Dragon Lord.[A/N: It gets much better after level one]

Jang Joonbum started stream to enjoy an easy life.

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.”