Why Are MILFs Obsessed With Me?! - Chapter 57: Milk problem in class..

After being killed by a high-velocity tree-hug, Arlo is transported to a new world of skills, stats, and levels where those brave and talented enough to conquer ancient Delves are rewarded with incredible supernatural power. Unfortunately for Arlo, there is no tutorial, and he is immediately forced to tackle a Delve set to the highest difficulty with a party of adventurers who are not only strangers to him, but strangers to each other as well. Arlo has no armor, no weapons, no knowledge of the world at large, and his party is growing increasingly suspicious of his lack of preparation and paper-thin excuses for how he got there.There's also the fact that the System seems to be treating Arlo's situation like a big, cosmic joke.Determined not to die again, Arlo forgoes putting any points into his highest stat, Intelligence, and instead dumps everything he's got into Fortitude. After all, who needs equipment or fighting skills when you can eat fireballs for breakfast and still ask for more hot sauce?Mage Tank is a comedic LitRPG adventure set in an epic fantasy world that is rapidly evolving as new and powerful secrets of the Delves are uncovered. There are strong horror themes, graphic violence, overindulgent use of naughty language, and poorly constructed jokes. Mage Tank features slow progression and intelligent characters who spend time making intentional build choices. It’s not action all-the-time, but Arlo’s life is replete with danger and, more importantly, consequences.Cover art generated with MidJourney and Canva.Maps and world-building support by Sir Raiu Koren.

Traveling to a parallel world, Gu Miao became a hard-working animation director.

When he emerged from “Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf” and successively produced many phenomenal and explosive animations such as “Bear Infested”, “Happy Baby”, “Super Beast Armed”, “Guobao Special Attack”, the industry suddenly set off a sensation. There is an upsurge of “traversing themes”.

Facing the reporter’s interview, Gu Miao waved her hands and said confidently: “No one knows time travel better than me!”

Thus, “Digimon” was born…

- Description from novelbuddy

The only game in my life that makes me laugh: The Lands of The Lunerra... I played this game for six thousand hours in three years, and the day I thought I had done everything I could in this game, I felt a great emptiness inside me. I thought nothing in my ordinary and monotonous life could make me happier than when I played this game. But it didn't take long for me to realize that I was wrong with an e-mail I received the night I finished the game.

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Hi! Thank you to everyone who came to read this story. There are two things I want to tell you.

First of all, I first started writing this about two years ago, but I was writing in my native language, Turkish, and on a different site. But unfortunately, the website where I published the series came to the brink of collapse. While I was thinking about where to publish the series, I remembered Webnovel and here I am. So this is my first English novel and I believe I will make mistakes while translating. Please forgive me for these if you encounter some of them. I will do my best.

Second... yes, while writing this novel I was inspired by most of the novels I've read so far. Like The Novel's Extra, that novel is a pure diamond for me and I don't think I will ever reach the level of that thing. So I want to say the first few chapters may feel familiar to you, but I'll do my best to smooth it out.

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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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