Hide Your Identities Or Inherit Millions - Chapter 71 - : She Had Already Weakened Her Abilities by Ninety Percent

Where does the game end? Where does reality start?

When one very anticipated VRMMORPG was about to be launched, and Jake was one of the first players to have a chance to access it, he had a weird dream of himself fighting massive beasts and then seeing a world being destroyed.

Without knowing any better, Jake assumes that it was just a weird dream, but then he begins to have those weird dreams again and again until they become even more vivid, and much to his surprise, whenever the dream changes, he obtains a new power inside the game.

It doesn't take long for Jake to realize that he isn't the only one who has those dreams, and soon enough, Jake realizes that the game and reality are a lot more connected than he thought.

A part-time job contract. He became the cold CEO’s imitation boyfriend. He merely wanted to earn a few small bucks and live a comfortable life, but a pity, he was in constant turmoil since then. Well, life had something else for him despite his wishes.“That… beauty, will there be an increase in wages for conversion from ‘boyfriend’ to ‘husband’?”

Desperate to overcome her loner status, a forlorn female student was on her way to a welcome party held for newcomers at her college. Stepping on a banana peel and falling over she passes away. For some reason or another, she is reincarnated into the strongest dragon species…

“…. I really wanted to make friends, but now there is no point!!!”

Despite her complaints, this is the story of a Dragon who rouses herself in order to make friends.

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.”