God of Cooking - Chapter 480 - Thorn (2)

Lady Dawn expected to die.After casting her soul to the wind, taking a one-in-a-million chance to escape the wretched dungeons of Taegrin Caelum, the once-caged songbird of the Asclepius wishes nothing more than to find her Hearth and warn them of the coming danger. Instead, she’s found herself a shade, anchored to a young man who knows far too much—and with far less hope than she’d started with.Toren Daen, for his part, only wanted to make it home safely. Now he’s in a world taken straight from the page, questioning what is real and what is fiction, and scrambling to make something worthwhile. And with his foresight, there’s only one way that Toren can see to keep this new world safe: prevent the descent of the Legacy. But those in power will not make it easy: Nico Sever is in a league of power all on his own, and Arthur Leywin bears the burden of Fate a continent away. In this familiar-yet-not world of mana, monsters, and looming deities, any misstep along the roads of Alacrya and the High Sovereign’s Dominion could lead to a Fate worse than death.But what is death to a phoenix? With a burning secret in his mana core, knowledge of the future, and a maelstrom of fears and questions, Toren might just survive to be more than what Lady Dawn expected him to be. He might just survive to waylay the encroaching tide of death in the proxy war between raging asura clans.More than all of that, he might just live.

Through the pirate world, I can resurrect the dead and get one of its abilities.

It is said that pirates are immortal, I want to see, in addition to Roger, which other unlucky person has been written to death.

Luffy: “My brother is dead, I never won a game against him when I was a kid.”

Zoro: “My girlfriend died, and I never won a game against her when I was a kid.”

Sanji: “You still have a girlfriend? Ah, my mother died of illness.”

Usopp: “My mother died too.”

Nami: “It’s good to die, my mother was killed.”

Robin: “It’s okay, my mother was killed too.” Everyone: “???”

Whitebeard: “Zefa, I didn’t expect you to die. I was killed by your disciple. My son made up the knife. Who killed you?”

Zefa: “I was killed by my disciple! Let’s go get revenge together!”

Whitebeard: “Yes, but let’s fight first!”

The most chaotic confession in the pirate world..

- Description from novelbuddy

Please do check out my new novel “Rise of the Blood Sovereign”, which is participating in the fantasy carnival, I would appreciate it if you voted for it.

The year is 2060 and after decades of technological delay caused by mysterious events Earth and its inhabitants are about to face their greatest challenge yet. One, seemingly normal day everyone on Earth heard a voice.

{Earthlings, the time has come for change, please stay calm and wait for the terraforming process, everything will be explained during it}

Every human being was transported that fateful day, floating in space and watching the planet be transformed right in front of their eyes.

“I got a fcking stick as a reward, are you fcking kidding me?!”

Reign was there before most, as a human that defeated a monster before the terraforming he was titled a pioneer and got a chance to draw a lottery, but that did not end quite well.

Join our protagonist with his quirky group of friends as they fight and level up in this world that became a game, trying their best to win it and stop the destruction of Earth.

Will they be successful or will they fail?

What is the mysterious power hiding deep inside Reign?

Find that all out by reading Is This Really a Game?!

“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.]

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .