Xianxia: Why am I here? - Chapter 182

His muscles screamed, his body begged for rest, his mind ordered him to stop. But Bakugo couldn't. Not while Izuku hadn't arrived. So, he pushed forward. Every explosion, every strike, every movement was pure determination, a reflection of his unwavering will to win.For a moment, he felt beyond himself. Fast. Precise. Almost invincible.And then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The battlefield vanished, and the pain ceased.It was in that moment that Katsuki Bakugo understood... he had died.Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.

“I want to be someone who matters. And I want to know what it feels like to be in love.”Ezra sold his soul to the Storyteller for a chance to live in a world of magic. But Oberyn? - he was cast away from his home, shackled by a destiny he refuses to obey.But destiny isn’t the only force pulling their world apart. A surge of wild magic threatens to unravel everything, and neither can control it. If they want to survive, they’ll have to surrender to something even more dangerous: each other.At first, they’re reluctant allies. Then friends. Then… something neither of them is ready to name.Ezra is plucky, affectionate, and full of heart. Oberyn is proud, aloof, and single-minded in his goals. They couldn’t be more different - until Ezra’s Desire System reveals the one thing Oberyn wants more than anything else.In a world where magic bends to will, control is everything. But when fate ties them together, who will be the first to give in?Genres: Transmigration, System, Magic, Romance, (R-18), boyxboy (bxb)

In a morgue filled with the bodies of Uchiha clan members, he opened his eyes...A mysterious voice echoed in his ears...With a bewildered expression, he muttered, “Save the Shinobi world? What does that have to do with me, a mere Uchiha survivor?”

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.”