History's Number 1 Founder - Chapter 10: The Second Lottery Chance

It was in the year 2800 of the Midgard calendar. Back then, there was a Overlord who once reigned supreme and had reached the very brink of subduing the world.

Some crowns are forged in blood. Others are drowned beneath it.In a city strangled by smoke and silence, where children are shackled to machines and shadows rule behind gilded masks, Keiran is just another forgotten soul—until the mark appears.Buried beneath the factory’s foundations lies a world long erased from history. Ancient oaths whisper through stone and water, and something older than memory begins to stir. As Keiran is drawn deeper into the abyss, he uncovers a legacy not meant for mortal hands—a crown shattered in defiance, a flood sealed by sacrifice, and a power that demands a price.Hunted by tyrants, haunted by echoes, and bound to secrets he never asked for, Keiran must choose: drown in the tide of what came before, or rise against the current and reclaim what the world was forced to forget.But the deeper he goes, the more the truth unravels…And beneath it all, something still breathes.

“I saw with my own eyes that they used the finest, rustproof refined steel to make utensils and cans, filling them with just a little food, then casually throwing them away after eating.”“I saw with my own eyes that they used giant beasts as tall as mountains to devour soil and rocks, digging out underground cities, just to park their steel carriages beneath the surface.”“I saw with my own eyes that they fed glowing ores into an everlasting stellar furnace, unleashing a radiance brighter than the sun.”“I saw with my own eyes all those indescribable things.”“Their iron birds covered the sky, their steel ships filled the ocean, their war machines tore the earth asunder, and their gods walked upon the world.”“You must think I’m mad.”“But it doesn’t matter.”“It has already seen you.”——————Oil is Its blood.Thick smoke is Its breath.Ore and steel are Its food.The countless cargo ships in the harbors are Its myriad offspring.The place of origin stamped in the corner is Its silent mockery.They claim they are mere mortals.Child, you’d best not argue.You must understand:Their technology is beyond comprehension.Their production capacity is unimaginable.A mere glimpse of their creations will drive you insane.Their morale surpasses even the most fanatical worshippers of dark gods.How will you stop them?With your sword, child? Or your flesh and blood?You should be grateful that they still consider themselves mortals.——————“I’ve finished building my factory, and now you’re telling me this world runs on idealism?!”“Wait, then what the hell did I just create?”