MMORPG: Rise of the Primordial Godsmith - Chapter 1347 Nine Prodigies of Astella (4)

Cha Myung-jun, a sergeant who neared the end of his military service, found himself confined in the Ministry of National Defense’s bas**ent for over three decades due to his newly awakened abilities, just before the outbreak of war. Spending thirty years as the world’s most formidable blacksmith, wielding nothing but hammers, he skillfully outwits the watchful eyes of the Ministry of Defense to serve the war effort and reset the course of time. Now given a second chance at life, can he lead a successful campaign to avert humanity’s downfall and secure its salvation?

The course of commitments never did run smooth.

The salaryman who had a dream of becoming a CEO has finally succeeded.

However…

There was no one. No one was around to celebrate his success. Then on his first day of work, news of the death of a former colleague that he had laid off came. Additionally, his family left him, who was only concerned about the company.

The life he thought was right crumbled right in front of him. Where the heck did it all go wrong? Then, another opportunity came for Han Yoo-hyun, who had plunged down into despair.

This time, for sure. He was going to live properly. He was going to change it all with his whole being. The new life that Han Yoo-hyun was creating.

That valued life that will outshine any other is unfolding now!

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.”