MTL - After Playing the Fool and Marrying the Blind Villain [Transmigration] - Chapter 72

In a world where magic intertwines with reality, a dying human girl named Elara awakens to find herself in a foreign land. The air smells of ancient forests, and the sky is painted with hues she’s never seen before. Before her stands the enigmatic Demon Queen, Seraphina, her eyes as cold as the ice that encases her throne.Seraphina proposes a desperate bargain: a contractual marriage between them. In exchange for Elara’s hand, Seraphina promises to save the crumbling human kingdom from impending doom. Elara, with nothing left to lose, accepts, thrust into a web of intrigue, danger, and forbidden emotions.As they embark on their perilous adventure, Elara discovers that Seraphina’s icy demeanor hides a tragic past. The Demon Queen’s power is unmatched, her wrath swift and merciless. Yet, beneath the frost, Elara glimpses vulnerability—a longing for connection that defies her ruthless reputation.

In the tribal farming era, the world was vast and unknown. Upon continuous exploration, the people of ancient times were appalled to discover that in this world, where the sky was round and the earth was square, all sorts of miracles had befallen them. There were even figures like an ultra-big ten-thousand-foot giant, as well as huge intelligent beasts that had mysteriously appeared, trampling upon the mountains and rivers, and shattering the earth. Hundreds of years later, in such a dangerous environment, people fought against the huge beasts and finally established the glorious Sumerian civilization. On this day, a wise giant suddenly made a complete descension on earth, trampling on all the mountains and rivers, and wiping out the entire nation. The world crumbled, and city-states collapsed; had the gods descended to condemn the people?

“I’m sorry, you’re all just ants living in the orchard of my yard and you are just scrambling all over the place. If I were to accidentally pass you by, I might just accidentally trample you all to death. That’s it for you.” So first, I’ll set up a sandbox in my own yard, a base area for plotting farmland. Then, I will shepherd the human race and various worlds in my sandbox.

“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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