Rise (Web Novel CN) - Chapter 329: I Will be First! No Me! NO, ME! ME! ME! MEEEEEE!

“Had that night been quiet and windless… If she had never appeared in front of me…”

Whenever he recalled the past, Clyde felt endless regret. If he had known that being a Suzerain would be so troublesome, he would have never picked up that troublesome Bloodkin. In fact, he would never have even left that secluded Death Canyon.

“Big Brother Clyde, don’t be so dejected. You are now a well-known Suzerain, a hero of the entire continent, the Human Race’s Savior!”

“Lucifer, enough. I just want to return to my quiet life.” Clyde, an Evil God, had yearned for a quiet life, but by chance— or fate— he had met a young a mysterious Bloodkin Lolita named “Lucifer.” Under her guidance, Clyde embarked on his destiny, rising from the unknown as a nameless wanderer to become a Suzerain of a fief before taking the throne of the entire Ximengsi Continent.

There was just one problem: he who would be the torch of the human race wasn’t even from this dimension.

In a world where strength is law and the weak are trampled, Ezra Cain was destined for nothing—crippled, abandoned, and left to rot. But when death comes knocking, something awakens within him.[Primordial Evolution System Activated.]A forgotten power lost to time, capable of infinite growth, limitless evolution, and ultimate domination. From the ashes of his former self, Ezra begins his ascent—devouring monsters, absorbing abilities, and forging a path no being has ever walked. But power comes at a cost.Ancient gods stir in fear. Forbidden realms tremble. The strongest beings in existence move to eradicate him before he reaches his full potential. But Ezra is no pawn in their game—if the gods wish to stop him, then he will do what no one has dared before.He will evolve beyond them. He will devour them. He will become the first Primordial Overlord.The age of gods is over. His reign begins.

“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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