Cursed-Soul - Chapter 2: Shackles in the dark-

[Warning: Mature Content and a ruthless, villainous, badass mc!]Kael Draven was once the feared leader of an underground mafia empire. A shadow ruler who pulled the strings behind the scenes.But power comes at a price. Kael learned that the hard way when a bullet pierced his ear, and his trusted ally betrayed him, bringing his life to an end.Bang!As his empire crumbled and his body hit the cold floor, all he could think was, ‘What a pathetic way to go.’Instead of hell, Kael woke up in a far more dangerous world, with a body stronger than ever—youthful, shredded, with muscles for days and an ego that could crush mountains.His title? Master of the Crimson Maw.He now led a bandit group that had angered a mysterious force and been wiped out—except for one survivor: a strong, silent gladiatrix who wanted nothing to do with him.To make things even more interesting, his body bore a glowing tattoo that whispered in his mind: “Bond. Through body. Through soul.”But Kael wasn’t one to back down. He didn’t like losing.So what if his base was a dilapidated shack? So what if his army was just one extremely voluptuous warrior?Kael wasn’t here to play small. He was going to turn this ragtag bandit group into a force feared by all, with a harem of deadly beauties who would bow to no one but him!Welcome to the Crimson Maw. Where the training is brutal, the beauties are overpowered, and the only thing more dangerous than an enemy is the bandit king himself.Let the grind begin!

Through an array of coincidences, Alex comes to learn that making pills is one of the best ways to earn money in the game, 'Eternal Cultivation.'

At the end of the story, I found myself in the body of a hidden villain, betraying the heroines. Since I’m not particularly concerned about the end of the world, I’m calmly waiting for the finale… “You’re the only one who truly appreciated my painting of the boa.” “When I make plans to meet you at four, my heart starts racing at three... is this what they call being tamed?” For some reason, the heroines are starting to take an interest in me.

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.”