MTL - The Otherworldly Adventures of a Super Naive Girl - v3 Chapter 553 : Lika back pot

A long time later, Ah Zhao and her younger generations started chatting about her own story.

“At first, I was selected by the system to become the man’s plug-in to help him reach the pinnacle of life.”

“-Then what happened afterward?”

Ah Zhao lit a cigarette and her expression had great changes:

“-Later, I became the wife of the Male God.”

- Description from novelupdates

An era where the desperate, miserable, and tragic tale of the six heroes who sealed the Dark Mage, who sought to destroy Maple World, became the favorite legend of children.

“The Cygnus Knights have fallen, the Resistance has collapsed, the Cross Hunters have been destroyed, and the adventurers have been annihilated. And the six heroes are dead.”

An era where no one dared to resist the reappearance of the Dark Mage and his followers.

“You are the only one left, El Paume. You’re the last adventurer.”

In that era, there was an adventurer who continued to fight until the end.

Every little girl's fantasy is to live a wonderful life full of riches and luxuries. This was the future she imagined, and she was willing to go to any length to obtain it.She was spoiled, pampered, and doted on by her family, and she was proud of herself. She knew she deserved the best, and she went for it. This, however, is where the nightmare began.Wanting to leave the clutches of poverty wasn't as simple as she believed, given the things she had to give up, the humiliation she had to endure, and the numerous things she had to lose. It was not worthwhile.When she thought she had it all, she was slapped in the face with the cold, hard truth: she was only a SUBSTITUTE.And when two of her closest companions turned on her and betrayed her, she was shoved aside and got humiliated by people she used to know.With nothing and no one to lean on, she was forced to make decisions. Decisions that gradually resulted in something breathtakingly amazing.[DING! SIGN IN! THE HOST HAS BEEN REWARDED WITH ******]

“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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