Became a Demon with Pregnancy System - Chapter 18 - : Inferno Wolf

“I don’t care what Thanos’ ideals are, and I don’t care what the consequences of having too many creatures in this universe will do, as long as he doesn’t ruin my business with that damn Infinity Glove!” – Kahn Ponte

Once he traveled to the world of American comics, Kahn had the golden finger to trade all worlds.

At this point, the name of Boss Kahn not only resounded in the Americas of the Marvel Universe, but his influence spread to all the worlds!

PS: There are many follow-up worlds such as Marvel, Naruto, Harry Potter, One Punch Man, Black Robe Pickets, Dragon Ball, Pirates, etc. You can decide…

- Description from novelbuddy

In the waves of steam and machinery, who could achieve extraordinary? In the fogs of history and darkness, who was whispering? I woke up from the realm of mysteries and opened my eyes to the world.

To the one who has never owned, obtained, or enjoyed anything throughout their entire life.“You have been chosen.”Thus, I shall bestow this power on you, for you are ’empty.’The power of the Void.Be my apostle and carry out my will.

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.”