MTL - I Made a Fortune By Raiding Houses In Ancient Times - Chapter 455 All for him

The tombs of the gods have appeared in the world!

Objects from beyond the Earth have fallen; eyes of crimson see through the cosmos.All the stars in the sky are enemies of humanity.They call me a false god, but only I fly above.The world is sick, gravely so.I will heal it.

Alex was just another ordinary gamer—until the day he died. Struck down by a terminal illness, he found solace in his favorite game, a vast fantasy RPG filled with powerful warriors, intricate politics, and world-shaking events. But before he could see the game's ending, fate had other plans.When he opens his eyes again, he’s no longer Alex from Earth. Instead, he’s Alex Dragonheart, a nameless extra in the very game he once played. Not a protagonist. Not even a villain. Just an unknown side character who was fated to die early, forgotten by history.Armed with only half of the game’s knowledge, an unawakened bloodline, and a mysterious sealed skill, Alex is thrown into a brutal world where strength is everything. His beloved younger sister is sick and needs treatment, but his past self had been powerless to save her. Not anymore.Determined to rewrite his fate, Alex will rise through the ranks, manipulate events from the shadows, and seize power that was never meant for him. If fate refuses to acknowledge him, then he’ll carve his own legend—one that even the gods will fear.After all, in a world where only the strong survive, even an extra can become a nightmare.( Okay guys just because there is a system tag does not mean he will get everything handed to him he will have to work hard to attain power because I will make it so )

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.”