21st Century Necromancer - Chapter 753 - 749 The Black Joan of Arc (Please Subscribe, Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Orodan was an orphaned street rat who clawed his way to the county militia with hard work. However calamitous events unfold and draw him into events bigger than himself and Orodan's battle-loving disposition leads to a warrior's death for him. Only for him to wake up again on the day of.In a world of skills, titles and blessings; a smart time looper would perhaps scheme, plan, amass equipment and allies. But not Orodan. If there's one thing he's good at it's stubbornly trying the same thing over and over again via brute force till it's done.If a wall is in front, going around is not an option. Instead batter it with your head thousands of times till either the wall breaks or you do. And gain skill levels along the way

“Are you not scared it might be poisoned?” Abrielle's asked Cedric who drank the wine without hesitation.Cedric leaned closer to her with his head crooked on her neck, his warm intoxicating breath trickling on her skin.His hoarse voice came out lightly. “If the poison is given by my wife, I will drink it without hesitation. It will be an honour to die in your hands.”Abrielle's mouth fell agape, stunned by his words. What was wrong with his head? Cedric then bit the tip of her ear to distract her from her thoughts. “Now I have done your bidding, dear wife; it is time you do mine. How about we get rid of this restriction on your body?”Abrielle's face flushed red. This sly scum. She could not wait to kill him.****Being transmigrated to your favourite novel would be anyone's dream, well, except for Hazel.Hazel, a world-class writer, was transmigrated into her book, “The Dragons and the priestess.” after she died in an unfortunate accident a day before her first date with her long-time crush. She was already cussing her luck until she was hit by a double tragedy.Hazel was now Abrielle, the Villainess of the novel, who was destined to die at her husband's hand, Prince Cedric. Struck with this tragedy, Abrielle attempted to escape the border before her wedding but failed miserably.Forced to marry the heartless first prince of Darconia in a marriage that could only be broken with death as the escape, Abrielle came up with another plan.“A hundred ways to kill her husband.”Abrielle, who finds herself in the middle of the messed up plot of her novel, tries to navigate this world by trying several methods to kill her husband because she refuses to die by her creation's hand.But why does, despite multiple attempts of trying to kill this heartless prince, he refuse to die and just keeps on bothering Abrielle? He should be interested in the female lead and not the villainess!Why don't you join this epic journey and see how Abrielle's and Cedric's story unfold? Would she be able to escape her fate?

Chu Yi dies in a car crash and becomes Landon Barn, the illegitimate son of king Barn, ruler of Arcadina. Because his mother was a maid and the king’s greatest disgrace, his father had always despised him. The same could be said for his half-siblings.

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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