Wizard: Start with Biological Transformation to Grind Experience - Chapter 18 - 0: Dark Forest

[Ding! Sorceress Beauty Merlin from Camelot has added you to a chat group full of beautiful maidens!][Ding! You've claimed the title of Supreme Demon Lord!][Ding! Fairy Queen Ophelia tagged you in a post!][Ding! Medusa sent you some of her spicy videos, shut your blinds before watching!][Ding! Your dog has been transformed into the Ancient Black Dragon Veligrpyh!]James Kang, once the youngest heir to the multi-trillion-dollar Hart Global Corporation, has everything anyone could dream of: money, luxury, and freedom. But his life is hollow—friends are fake, family distant, and his days are a blur of shallow extravagance.One late, lonely night, James gets a notification:[Congratulations! You have been added to the Ancient Multiverse Chatroom!]Thinking it's some cringy online role-playing game, he decides to entertain himself and plays along, proclaiming himself the “Supreme Demon Lord.”The group, filled with titles like:[Princess of the Azure Seas][Dragon Emperor of Ashvale][Goblin Slayer Supreme][High Priestess of the Sun][Fafnir, the Pet Wyvern]And they seemed hilariously invested in their roles.What starts as a joke takes a bizarre turn.The more James participates, the more he notices strange phenomena: glowing runes on his skin, magic artifacts materializing from nowhere, an elder dragon in his garage, and a sudden mastery of dark magic.Things escalate when a private group chat, run by a perverted female King Arthur, invites him to [The Table of Beauties], a circle of god-tier roleplayers… or so he thinks.Soon, James learns the truth.The chat is an interdimensional nexus connecting real worlds where magic, legends, and gods exist. His casual banter and fake roleplay have turned him into a living, breathing Demon Lord, complete with a castle in Hell, loyal monster armies, and reality-warping powers.To make matters even crazier, his “friends” start visiting Earth, and they’re nothing like he imagined!

After getting betrayed and killed by the only person she’d loved, Miss Shang wakes up in the body of the cowardly crown prince Shang Wuxin, who, due to her own circumstances, was actually a girl cross-dressing as a boy. After inheriting the crown prince’s memories, Shang Wuxin has three things on her agenda:

1. Clean up the house

2. Gather loyal followers and soldiers

3. Get the throne

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”

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.”