Harry Potter: Returning from Hogwarts Legacy - Chapter 113: Poppy - Want to Sleep Together?

If you had the opportunity to be granted one wish, what would your wish be?All humans on Planet New Earth were given such an opportunity.A translucent screen appeared in front of every human promising to grant any wish to the humans of new earth.You want to be a god?- GrantedYou want to be a devil?- GrantedYou want to have powers like Gojo or Naruto or Sasuke or Saitama or Goku?- GrantedYou want to be the richest man on the planet?- GrantedYou want the world to end?- GrantedYou want...Wait, what?!!!Granted?!!!Any wish a human wished for was granted to them!!And then it happened, the apocalypse!!!And our average MC, Corey Junior Zane, due to circumstances wished for wisdom, not just ordinary wisdom though.Unlimited Wisdom, Knowledge and Understanding.Would our MC be able to survive in such a dangerous world without having the ability to defend himself.Would he be able to survive in his school where the common enemies are Smileys?Read to find out!

Somehow, the protagonist Kim Jin possessed a rich pushover extra in a novel who was exploited by the villainess and then met their demise together.But there’s no way Kim Jin would let that happen! He immediately defeated the villainess and locked her away. After that, the only thing left was to steadily enjoy life in this world while investing and extracting profits using his knowledge.But why… the more he punished her, it seemed that the villainess he had captured began to cling to him too much?

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.”