Era of Players: Death God - Chapter 19: Angel’s of Death System 2

When Naruto was young, he could see several big faces on Hokage Rock directly when he opened his eyes every morning. The window of Uchiha Xinxuan’s house will first see the Police Department Building, as for Hokage Rock, only a silhouette can be seen.

I dare not think about it, but it should also try to climb to a higher position to see the scenery.

PS: In terms of the original plot and settings, all the comics are used (excluding Boren Biography, Itachi True Biography, TV and theatrical versions), mainly because there is only one set of comics at hand.

- Description from novelbuddy

A hundred years ago, the blue star world fell into an endless abyss, and the era of abyss lords for all began.

Become the lord of the abyss, expand the territory, and resist the invasion of the abyss. The lord is hope, and the lord is destiny!

A hundred years later, a boy who has obtained a soul-entry talent, a treasure chest, a resource crystal, and a summoning scroll, will be perfect after ten consecutive draws? Hundred consecutive draws will produce legends?

What are you waiting for?

Wu Feng, who became the will of the abyss, was interviewed: “I really just didn’t want to lose my status as a lord, so you believe me!”

When you gaze into the abyss, I am the abyss!

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Readership: 892119197.

- Description from novelbuddy

A person who lived the life to the maximum even being a person with paralysis, always played his favorite sport basketball, even if alone, follow the story of Jake Smith to be happy with a second chance.

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.”