Utopian System - Chapter 437 System’s Gourmand

Unhindered in the Demon Domain, the king is solitary!

In the world where immortals and demons strive, a good natured fellow sought the Demon Dao in search of justice.

At the end of his journey, he had eventually become this generation’s Heavenly Demon Emperor.

Although I am not fond of slaughter, I do not dislike it!

Desiring to see the Demon World, this is how I strive, this is how I become the Peerless Demonic Lord!

- Description from Novelupdates

Linky transmigrated to the Magical Land and became the third young master of a noble family. Just when he thought it was time for him to enjoy a life of luxury.

He was sent out for the family’s tribulation, and had to set off to the “Land of Death”

— Black Wind Castle! Here, dark elves, frenzied orcs, and blood-thirsty dragons were regular occurrences! Everyone thought that Linky would surely die, and had even prepared to collect his body.

But just then, Linky awakened the [Super Gourmet System]. As such, things changed.

The Elf Queen loved his fruit salad, while the Orc Saint couldn’t get enough of his grilled steak. The Sorcerer of the Holy Palace couldn’t live a day without the “Linky Brand” whiskey.

Even the Vampire Prince Nikolas would sacrifice anything to get a long-term order of Linky’s fresh blood coffee.

Until one day, when a gargantuan dragon that blocked out the skies came to his door…

What will an ordinary man do if he finds out he is God in an Otome game? Of course, save the game’s Evil character, Morrigan! Unknowingly spread more chaos! Establish your own kingdom! Establish your own religion! Kill the Goddess of Light!

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.”