The Young Urban Doctor - Chapter 277 - : No Deliberate Retaliation

Apocalypse had descended!Strange creatures sprung out from the earth bringing calamity upon the world, the earth was twisted beyond measure and even the moon was engulfed by the chaos.But it was only for a time, up until all waves of beasts would be cleared and the torment would lift, pending it's re-descent—in a never ending loop.A judgment from the gods.Their sins?No one had a clue.Their path to forgiveness?Even more unclear.Their only salvation was the Curse Bearers, people who could bend the wind to their will, move objects with as little as a thought and call mythical beasts to their aid.Ark was one of them, albeit with a little quirk.He was cursed to die, his curse set to consume his soul.But it was going to take far more than that to kill one born with the Heritage of a god!—————————————>R18 is for gore and Dark themes.Note: This is not your typical Apocalypse novel, the apocalypse is a well represented theme among many others.Just give it a read, I’m sure you’ll like it… or so they all say ;)Additional Tags:Two Worlds, Unusual system

In a prehistoric age when all things in the world had no names,God descended.God created life, reason, light...He separated the darkness, and brought life from the underwater cradle to land.He bestowed language upon the ape-men, freeing them from the realm of beasts.He chose the first prophet of the world, who led the entire civilization's history, the descendants of the prophet later established a great nation.......In the golden age that followed, people left God and dispersed across the world.Many things were forgotten, leaving history to be buried by time.Yet life is a return.People will eventually remember,In this story, God first loved the world.

“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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