Rising up from a Nobleman to Intergalactic Warlord!! - Chapter 90

It’s a story that happened long, long ago, in a continent far, far away, about gods and mortals, sword and magic, war and peace, and of course love and hatred.

Amon was a poor miner’s son in a remote town in the kingdom of Hittite. Along with the discovery of a marvelous gem, his fate was changed. People on this land called it Gods’ Tear. But wait, what were the gods? It was said that the gods created the world. Then who created the gods?

Forced by the tantalizing fate, Amon had to struggle to find out the truth behind this world of magic and gods……

“This guy, how heavy is his taste, he’s still able to eat?” Waking up, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, explosive hair, tattoos, and a demon-like face. Look at her for more than a second and you’ll have spicy eyes (your eyes will bleed-aka she looks really ugly).

Born into the powerful Moonviel Alpha bloodline, Celestia Elizabeth Moonviel was destined to inherit her family's legacy,until betrayal shattered everything. When her father, the ruthless Alpha of the Moonviel Pack, falls for a noble Vampire, it sparks a forbidden affair that destroys their family and ignites an all-out war between Werewolves and Vampires.Branded as a traitor's daughter, Celestia is forced to flee as her own brother, Lucien Moonviel, plots to eliminate her and claim the family empire for himself. With enemies lurking in the shadows, she finds an unlikely protector in Draven Nightshade, a dangerously charming Billionaire Vampire with his own hidden agenda.But Celestia soon discovers that the war is not just about power-it's about her. The child of her father's affair is prophesied to hold the key to supernatural dominance, and Celestia is the only one who can find him. Torn between vengeance and survival, between the fierce loyalty of her werewolf blood and the irresistible pull of a vampire's touch, Celestia must uncover the truth-before the past destroys her future.

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.”