MTL - Summoner of Miracles - Chapter 2533 The only natural enemy

“The True Form Of Order is chaos, It is a tale as old as time itself!”Since Dungeons began appearing around the world, things have changed. The world has evolved, letting dungeons alter the genetics of humans, giving some of them abilities and powers that no ordinary person would have.These abilities were called magic, and the ability to use them or even control them was called having mana. Almost 80% of the world’s population has gotten this ability. When a person who awakens their magic is seen, he or she will be taken for evaluation. To see their strength, there were strong and dangerous warriors who had to be used to keep the dungeon at bay and make sure that nothing happened to the world.Amid all this chaos, Darius Winters, a typical loser trying to make sure he would make enough money to pay for his sister's treatment, joins a guild on a raid. When his life is changed, Darius gains a powerful system, and he can get stronger than he was; the system makes him potentially the strongest warrior in the city.But he chooses to hide from the spotlight and take care of his sister. But how long can he keep up with that? when he is thrown in the middle of a brewing war between divine beings

Liu Xu’er had once hoped that if she were to be reborn, she would be born to old money, and have a rich, handsome and tall husband. That way, she could have a carefree life of luxury!

Then she actually was reborn…. to a family that had been poor for generations, and lost her rich, handsome and tall husband.

Wait, why does this little husband sound so familiar?

Surely it can’t be…. Liu Xu’er helplessly thought – Heaven, must he too be sent here? Would it have been so difficult to have given me a different husband…

- Description from Novelupdates

I’ve took the role of ‘that person’ who passed away long ago, someone who bears a striking resemblance to her. In a reverse harem fantasy novel set against a military backdrop, the title “Four Crazy Guys Obsessing Over Me,” or simply “F4,” unfolds. The narrative centers around the protagonist’s first love and former comrade who descended into madness following their demise, now fixated on the female lead. However, as the one who has taken on the position of ‘that person,’ I enjoy certain privileges. Could it be that my fate involves facing death? Alternatively, survival might lead to a twist in the romantic plot, with me becoming the object of obsession instead of the female lead. Personally, I’m not inclined towards being the center of such fixation. But then… “Hey, get your act together.” “The loser falls behind and gets left behind!” “These fools need to snap out of it! Can’t they get their act together?” Romance is nowhere in sight; instead, the harsh reality of the real K-military awaits me! Before I can fully escape this predicament, I had hoped that the male leads would become obsessed with me. However, this apocalyptic world consistently shatters my expectations. To worsen matters, it appears that the male leads are gradually losing their sanity in this chaotic world. What’s the only way to break free from this absurd exploitation? Naturally, it’s through a revolution! You corrupt imperial scoundrels!

“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 .