I Became the Youngest Prince in the Novel - Chapter 17: The Black Forest (8)

The dimension storm has come, and there are a large number of different dimension fields in the earth.

Various immortal creatures such as immortals, Buddhas, demons, angels, and elves come to the earth. And those mysterious alien spheres have turned into copies of mobile games.

Others take the risk to take risks, but I am desperately playing games.

- Description from uukanshu

High school student Mikoshiba Ryouma was summoned to a different world in the middle of a war. Sensing the malice from the one who summoned him (a summoner of the O’ltormea empire), he uses his martial arts to run away, killing important people of the empire during his escape. After the escape, he rescues two twin sisters from the hands of thieves. The sisters who can use magic, swear to serve him as subordinates. Thus, Ryouma begins his journey on the path of the supreme ruler.

Is it wrong to face the perils of Dungeon alone, in a single-member guild blessed by a failed goddess? Maybe.

Is it wrong to dream of playing hero to hapless maidens in Dungeon? Maybe not. After one misguided adventure, Bell quickly discovers that anything can happen in the labyrinth-even chance encounters with beautiful women.

Only problem? He’s the one who winds up the damsel in distress!

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.”