MTL - USSR 1941 - Chapter 863 question

The way of a Demon Lord - since the beginning of time, countless demons dreamt of it but few dared to tread on it, and even fewer reached its end. But the rarest of them all were some special demons who were not allowed to step on it, because if they were to become a Demon Lord- even the other lords would have to bow their heads. Abhorred and hunted by all, they could not do anything but hide till their lifespans came to an end. But for the first time ever, one such demon chose to do otherwise.

Follow Adrian Darkheart as he uses his special demonic power, superior intellect and innate brutality to walk the path of chaos and destruction and become the greatest Demon Lord ever.

Warning: The story is exceedingly dark and contains explicit mature and gore scenes.

Humanoid beast? Ahem…. Humanoid beast….

Kuramoto Daisuke, a freshman in High School was suddenly exposed to someone vanishing in front of him. Turns out he was admitted to a Special Class full of Isekai Heroes that were regularly summoned to Otherworlds since the start of their Middle School. He was told that he was to become their Support to prevent each of the Heroes' fate of dying in the world they were summoned into. Though mediocre, he realized that his ability has a great potential but it needs a lot of hard work on his part.

Unconvinced of being just the Support Character, he vowed to excavate his mediocre ability, all the while supporting the Heroes using it.

And maybe more.

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.”