Secretary Gwanggong's Survival Diary - Chapter 44

In the vampire-ruled kingdom of Mildelar, the Blood Games stand as the ultimate form of entertainment—savage battles between familiars, humans bound to their vampire masters through blood pacts. Far more than mere spectacles, these brutal fights determine the prestige of noble families, shaping their power and influence across the realm. Lyon, a young human saved from death by a blood pact with the alluring Arya Valakys—one of the king’s daughters—is unwillingly thrust into this cruel world. Bound to his mistress, he is forced into relentless battles to elevate her standing.Lyon, however, stands apart from other familiars. While they derive their strength from the fear of punishment, he draws his... from having dirty thoughts about his mistress!

Good news: I have transmigrated to Teyvat and become the Heavenly Principle.Bad news: The world of Teyvat doesn’t have much time left.Good news: I have a system that allows me to devour two-dimensional worlds.Noah looked at the countless familiar worlds, tears of sorrow streaming down his face, and announced on the spot:“I will not only be the Heavenly Principle of Teyvat but also the Heavenly Principle of countless worlds.”“So, my rules are the laws.”From then on, one Heavenly Principle and a group of fierce Gods embraced trembling worlds one after another.After devouring the world of Demon Slayer, Teyvat’s lifespan increased by 5,000 years.After devouring the world of Akame ga Kill!, Teyvat’s barriers were strengthened by 100 times.After devouring the world of Inuyasha, Teyvat forms the cycle of reincarnation.…

I got transmigrated into a game I’ve never seen before.

I thought it was a top-notch RPG and spent 30 years on it.

I retired as a war hero and planned to spend my remaining time leisurely.

But it turns out, it was an academy story?

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.”