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... . We always need help," a Sergeant Physician Cure-204 nodded to me. She was only four months old, and born in a sub-hive based on her genes. "What's your name, sister?"

"Tally, sister. Because I grew so tall," I squeaked in my most girlish voice.

Cure-204 looked at me from head to toes and back, and her eyes widened a little.

"Yeah… You sure did, Tally! Well, go there, find a free table and start picking people from the line. That's standard procedure, you should know how ...

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This is a time of great powers: The vast Persia, Sparta that was founded by force, Athens with its trade and business, Thebes the rising star, The ambitious Macedonia, The twin heroes of the Western Mediterranean, The rising Rome and so on.

This is an era of brilliant stars: Agesilaus II – the last king of Sparta, Epaminondas – the Rising General of Thebes, Philip II – the founder of Macedonian’s hegemon, Dionysius – the tyrant of Syracuse, Camillus – the Roman dictator and savior…

This is an era of contention among a hundred schools of thought: Plato – the great philosopher, Antisthenes – founder of cynicism, Pythagoras – school of number, Democritus – the encyclopedia scholar, Hippocrates – the father of western medicine, Aristophanes – the great dramatist…

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June 15 of the year 2010, the third awakening happened. Several smaller worlds had returned to connect with the main world as living beings of different races started to appear and some people managed to connect with the origin and gain control of various powers: control of fire, of water, of wind, of air, and of earth... In the midst of all these confusions, towers that gave unimaginable powers began to appear in all corners of the world, where those who already had powers could upgrade and become more powerful or even those who did not have powers could receive powers through tests of the tower. And because of these towers, conflicts started to happen in all corners of the world by those wanting to monopolize these towers.

Luan Dimas was betrayed by one of the people he trusted most. However, in his final moments before being killed, he was transported back to four months before the third awakening that started the apocalypse on earth. Being a man who lived for a thousand years and had accumulated several techniques, he now had a new chance to correct some of his early mistakes. Luan decided to make the most of this new chance that the heavens had given to him.

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Roy died in an unfortunate accident.

He thought that was the end.

But unfortunately for him, God didn't have a place for him in heaven, and the devil didn't want him in hell either.

So he ended up in the body of a famous count's third child, who his entire family neglected.

The world was exactly the same as the one in the novel he had read the day before he died.

The person whose body he had come to possess had the same name as him but wasn't mentioned in the novel because he had died two years before the forces of chaos invaded the county.

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“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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