The Feast - Chapter 43

Liv Hamelsvoort, who bears the label of the ‘Fake Saintess’ and is the laughingstock of high society for her unrequited love for Duke Lartman. No one could understand her, but she likewise couldn’t understand them.“I’m in the middle of enduring the love of the gods.”There was a world that ordinary humans couldn’t dare to comprehend.“Who harmed my child?”“Does my child not exist in this world?”“I don’t need a world where the child I love doesn’t exist.”The moment the enormous things she had been bearing were revealed, Liv’s life finally began to change.“I will love you in any timeline, Your Grace.”Liv was content as long as she could continue loving. But if she wanted to protect that love, she had to change; the world was whispering that to her.

A world where one’s life was decided by one’s talent called Gift.
The main character Erio Scarlet who was born in the house of influential noble family that had produced a lot of Holy Knights manifested a suspicious gift Incubus in the conferment ceremony. Furthermore the skill attached to that Gift was only one embarrassing skill called Peerless.

Erio was banished from the city because there was no way his indecent existence could be permitted in a family of Holy Knights but……somehow he went through an amazing growth when he dealt with his horniness though!?

In addition when his childhood friend who was bestowed with the Gift Sacred Knight chased after the main character because of her love for him reverse ra-……did it with him, a lot of powerful indecent skills showed up and on top of that they even got bound by Master-Servant contract……!?

This was the indecent heroic tale of the boy who was gifted with indecent Gift rising in the world while [getting along] with a lot of girls.

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.”