MTL - North American Detective: I Am Proficient In All Kinds of American IAI - Chapter 214 Bait out of warehouse

There came a sudden ravage by monstrous creatures in a civilian world, leaving humanity's hope to lurk in shadows. Hunters, trained in special schools, wield potential and abilities that enabled them keep the beasts at bay.For Buji, life’s difficulties stem not from being an orphan, but from relentless bullying. Nicknamed “the weakling,” he detests the label but bears it forcefully since he could do nothing.When he transfers to a new school to join his foster sister, Buji thought things would be different. But, during the Awakening Ceremony of the school, he find out a shocking truth: he's was going to be an S-Rank hunter without a talent.Awakening no talent only added more difficulty to his life struggle as he was branded an outcast.On the verge of death during his first raid, Buji awakens an enigmatic system.[Host Found][Survival due to inheritance][Congrats, you have gained the status of a 'player'.][The player, upon leveling up will awaken a potent monster][Class: Animagus | Type: Snake | Aspect: Venom][Do you accept?]Given the choice to embrace a monstrous path, Buji seizes it with unyielding resolve.'If becoming a monster is my only path to strength, I’ll take it—and the world will regret casting me aside. Fighting against these hunters was going to be a job, but imagine a world where I had control over monsters, had my own monster kingdom, and becoming the strongest of all. Stepping on these hunters won’t be a deal anyway.'“Yes!”

At the genesis of the world, the ‘Dark God Entropy’ was defeated in the fight between the five other Gods, and was sealed.

After she noticed she was being chased after by a certain beauty, she bound herself to a System and started her quick transmigration journey…

After a countless number of worlds, the beauty was finally driven to villainy, and his long, elegant fingers pulled at his black tie…

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.”