MTL - The Rebirth Waste Strikes Back - Chapter 198 like you

His friend and his wife betrayed him. The only thing left to him was his massive debt and his precious daughter. He was without hope as he lived at the bottom. However, a last chance had come to Sungyoon. He was a ‘man without a heartbeat’, and he will explore the Moon’s Labyrinth. He’ll explore the parts of the dungeon yet to be seen!

When others transmigrate, they are responsible for having babies with the male protagonist, and have a happily ever after. She is also a female protagonist when she transmigrates into various novels, but the female protagonist after the happy ending, when love between the couple is weathering, when the male protagonist is tired of the female protagonist, when he is cheating with a mistress, etc., and many other chicken feathers.

[Host, the task assigned to you by the system is, ‘After happy ending, the female protagonist’s bleak divorce life!’]

“Go away, s*upid system! I want to transmigrate to before ‘Happy ending’!”

One sentence introduction: Today is another day of happily divorcing.

Chicken feathers: small annoyances

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”