Reborn as Petunia Evans with a System - Chapter 52 - 50

The system: We must take the plot seriously!

Mo Fan: Ok.

The system: We cannot be OOC!

Mo Fan: Yes.

The system: We have to be cold. We must be ruthless. We cannot lose ourselves in this imaginary world.

Mo Fan: …no problem.

Not long after…

Mo Fan: System, can we talk? Hold my gong and take him away.

System: ……

- Description from Novelupdates

Bought it right away.

“Now that I’m back, I won’t allow my loved ones to die again!”

The Shadow Labyrinth – the most catastrophic existence humanity has faced in history.

Desir Arman is one of the six remaining survivors of mankind.

The six attempted to clear the final level of the labyrinth but ultimately failed, and the world came to an end.

However – when Desir thought he would meet his demise, what is revealed before him is the world… thirteen years ago?!

Desir is returned to the past, back to the time when he enrolled at the nation’s finest magic academy – Havrion. He is reunited with his precious friends, and is prepared to change the past to save the world and his loved ones…!

Three years remaining before the emergence of the Shadow World!

Change the past and gather powerful comrades to save mankind!

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.”