A Regressor's Guide to the Frozen Apocalypse - Chapter 9: It Is What It Is

Dionis endured soul-wrenching torment at the hands of his bullies, enduring daily humiliations and brutal beatings that left his spirit in pieces. However, one decisive day, he resolved to transcend his past, striving to transform into a man of dignity and worthiness, shedding the chains of degradation. His transformation journey encompassed both mental and physical training.

After defeating those who once tormented him and reclaiming his dignity, he peacefully graduated from middle school, progressing to high school. But as he stood at this new point, an emptiness gnawed at his soul.

“Why do I miss that feeling?” he pondered aloud.

“I forced myself to become a weapon, yet now i lie dormant,” he added.

Thus, Dionis, reaching out for something that gave him thrill and enjoyment, he entered the world of illegal businesses, trying to get back the excitement he felt back in middle school.

He entered the world of illegal business blind, yet Dionis utilized his brilliant mind to emerge as a formidable presence, evoking fear and commanding a growing following. The birth of a shadowy organization marked his ascent to evil, conquering everything in his path.

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“Come not between the Dragon and his Wrath.” — William Shakespeare The year was 2140, and Earth was nothing but a distant memory. Humanity now drifted through the galaxies aboard colossal ARKs, massive skyships that served as the last bastions of civilization. Yet, these ARKs were more than just floating cities; they were humanity’s last containers, preserving what remained of their species. A century before Earth’s final collapse, humanity discovered a gateway to a realm known as Eternia — a fantastical world straight out of myth and legend. Reaching this realm required more than just advanced technology; it demanded a complete departure from the physical body and entry into a mysterious process known as the Dream Weave. In the present day, Cloud lived aboard ARK NO. 427, where he had been training from a young age to step into the Dream Weave. He was a standout among his peers, excelling in every tasks that came his way. Everything seemed to be on track for him — until the pivotal day of the Class Selection process.

In a world of countless schemes, where you are being manipulated at every moment,often without even knowing it.A world where you can't be sure if what you see is reality… or just another illusion crafted as part of a deeper scheme.This is the story of someone who survives it all kind of schemes both small and vast, some he understands, and others he never even realizes.Even he, who is constantly being schemed against, crafts schemes of his own against others.This is a world ruled by deception and Yuan will persevere it, shape it, and rise through it.------------English is not my native language, so please understand if there are any mistakes

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.”