MTL - I Really Don’t Know How To Practice - Chapter 952 Arranging Shura Hall

Suddenly a high school student Subaru Natsuki has been summoned to another world on the way back from the convenience store. With the biggest crisis of his life being summoned to another world and no sign of the one who summoned him things become worse when he is attacked.

Hulk was a pro football player, a guy who loved nothing more than clutching a pigskin and barreling through the defense like a runaway freight train. He lived for the gridiron. But he never, in his wildest dreams, imagined he’d see a pair of nipples bigger than a football. He became a giant baby, reborn with a new name: Orion. Orion was the runt of the giant litter, the weakest of the bunch. But when he turned ten, something crazy happened. He saw a strange panel – that not only displayed his stats but also helped him level up. With the panel’s help, and a whole lot of elbow grease, Orion led his giant tribe to become the most powerful in the Barren Mountains. He went from zero to hero, becoming a mighty Titan King. He was no longer the runt; he was the top dog.

Ren Zhu: Quiet! Quiet! Look at the blackboard! I’m going to start teaching!

Bear child 1 [1]: Hahaha! Who is this weak chicken!

Bear child 2: May as well dance than listen to class. Why start the class!

Fake good child: Sit upright.

Ren Zhu: ……

Bear child 1: You received the class teacher’s quiet gaze x 1. Physical strength -500. Entered the weak state!

Bear child 2: You received the class teacher’s deep gaze x 1. Intelligence -50. Entered the dumb state!

Fake good child: You received the class teacher’s gratified gaze x 1. Intelligence and physical strength +50. Entered the excited state.

Ren Zhu: My goal is to teach and educate people, and bring love to every bear child. Thank you.

[1] 熊孩子 – literally translates to ‘bear child’. The term is used to address mischievous children.

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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.”