Reincarnated To Evolve My Bee Empire - Chapter 22: My tiny research-industrial complex

When I opened my eyes, I found my soul synced into the popular dating sim game, ‘Midnight’! And although I was clearly one of the female protagonists, I possessed the body of Evenes Harin, the saint who is treated like a trivial extra. What’s worse is that I must pursue one of the five male love interests and see it through to a happy ending in order to complete the game.

Having attended the triple combo of an all-girls middle school, high school, and university wasn’t enough of a debuff, having unintentionally put up an iron defense, I’ve been in ‘forever alone’ mode for 25 years. On top of that, I’ve possessed the Saint seldom played due to her atrociously difficult route! This life is screwed up, and I’m sure of it.

What do the words Third-Rate Villain mean?

Doesn't every human being possess their own background story?

Just because a game hadn't explored one's background story, does it mean those characters are irrelevant?

In a world where video games come to life, Astron Natusalune is introduced as a seemingly insignificant character—a third-rate villain with a minor role. However, this ordinary facade belies a haunting past that has shaped Astron into the vengeful soul he has become.

Someone who would do everything for his vengeance.

What will occur if Astron's soul combines with one from Earth? Will he relinquish his position as a third-rate villain, or will he forge a new path?

Driven by a singular purpose—to avenge his sister's tragic death and bring justice to a cruel world—Astron embarks on a transformative journey.

Witness the journey of the Astron as the young boy experiences a profound shift in his own values as he witnesses firsthand the consequences of unchecked vengeance and the true complexities of morality.

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All Things of this World, Turn to Ashes, Flowing Blade-like Flame!

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.”