The Non-Human Society - Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty – Vim – Landi’s Plague of a Threat

She remembers him because of the mole at the corner of his eyebrow;He remembers her simply because she is her.Every passing encounter becomes a story in the memory,And you are the ending of my story.

It was in the year 2800 of the Midgard calendar. Back then, there was a Overlord who once reigned supreme and had reached the very brink of subduing the world.

R18 ( No One 17 and Under Admitted )On one night, a boy named Ezra is abandoned on road by his father. Aeri, a kind-hearted college student, takes him in and raises him as her own. As years pass, Ezra grows more manly with time and is now deeply in love with the woman he calls “Mom.”To support Aeri, Ezra takes a job at the most famous brothel in town—a vibrant and lively establishment where beauty, desire, and drama intertwine. Working as a host and a male escort, he finds himself entangled in heated encounters, passionate affairs, and thrilling action as he navigates the challenges of the trade without letting Aeri ever knowing about his secret work.Ezra’s journey is filled with unexpected twists, romance, and adventure.

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.”