Becoming a Sage Starts From Condensing the Essence of Time - Chapter 162 - : Green Mountain Future Visualization

On one spring evening when I was eight years old, I, Erica, Duke of Aurelia’s daughter, realized something.

Huh, I have reincarnated into a fantasy world, haven’t I?

Moreover, it was the romance-fantasy girl game that had the reputation of being bloody, 『Liber Monstrorum ~Phantom Beasts and the Winter Princess~』

The face reflected in the mirror was that of the villainess character of that game.

After repeatedly harassing many characters, including the heroine, she would die without exception, signaling the beginning of an event called the bizarre incident. She was a villain who deserved to get the consequences!

—I absolutely don’t want a destiny like that, though?

No, for me who has remembered the memory of my previous life, there would be no such thing.

In my previous life, I was harassed immensely by an irrationally angry yandere man who proclaimed ‘She is absolutely in love with me.’

My cause of death, too, was from being stabbed by another yandere man who I only had talked with a few times……

Now that I have become the haughty villainess Erica, I shouldn’t encounter more misunderstandings like with the previous life’s yandere men anymore, right……?

In that case, it will be fine as long as I deal with the death flags that I may have raised myself.

All right! First of all, before the bizarre incident begins at the Magic Academy, I will strike down the death flags accordingly!!

—Or so I thought, but it seems that I am about to die.

Eeh, how did this happen—!?

Sue Kirin was a loser. Thirty years old with no hope for advancement at his job and no redeeming features except one, Magic. For as long as he could remember Kirin had dedicated his life to practicing the Arcane. Unfortunately, when he was passing down his knowledge to his niece, she lost control of her power resulting in a backlash of vicious energy that resulted in her being sent to the hospital, her life in critical danger.

“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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