MTL - Marvel’s Hogwarts Wizard - Chapter 265 Flickering Li Xiaolang

Zhou Heng thought the news of an impending solar flare and natural disasters was absurd—until he died in the apocalyptic chaos that followed. Reborn ten days before the end begins, Zhou Heng now knows the truth: earthquakes, tsunamis, plagues, and even zombies will devastate the Earth.Armed with the Doomsday Sanctuary System, he has a chance to rewrite his fate, but there’s a catch—it requires a shelter to activate.With only ten days left, can Zhou Heng gather the resources, fortify his sanctuary, and prepare for the storm of humanity’s collapse?

Fifty years ago, the oxygen in the atmosphere changed, giving rise to a new form of air known as Spiritual Qi. Humans, plants, and animals alike suddenly awakened latent mutant genes and began evolving, gaining Superpowered Talents and Classes. Life took a new turn, and humanity had to adapt.Everything seemed to be going well until, fifty years later, a 16-year-old boy named Klaus awakened a terrifying Talent and Class. His awakening marked the beginning of a new era in human evolution.Unbeknownst to everyone, Klaus, who was shunned by society and dropped out of school to work for a better life for himself and his mother, was actually the last of the Nine Paragons—a being so powerful that even the heavens feared him.Watch as Klaus climbs the ladder of strength, pursuing absolute power with a single purpose: to protect and make his mother happy.

SSS Beast Apostle System and Survival Racing in Apocalypse.

When the aliens invaded earth, they didn’t come for its resources as many doomsayers had proclaimed throughout the years.

Instead, they came for fun.

They came, flattened earth’s biggest cities and turned the world into a planet-sized stadium for their civilization.

The sport?

Survival Racing.

Ferocious alien beasts were unleashed upon the ruins of the world along with thousands of alien death-row fugitives who were only told one thing: Kill the humans, survive the year and regain your freedom.

Elliot was a survivor. He died right before he entered the final 15 days of the Games.

But as his consciousness began to slip away, a metallic voice rang out within his soul.

Mission failed.

Activating sponsor’s Boon: Reverse Time Walk.

Activating sponsor's Boon: Beast System.

Welcome to the Beast System. My name is Hawk, your AI.

EXCERPT from Chapter 1:

Elliot screamed in absolute exhilaration as he smashed his foot on the brakes, just enough to fully utilize the power of his ceramic brakes but not so much that his tires locked up. He went from two hundred miles an hour to forty miles an hour in a heartbeat.

He entered the sharp corner from the outside at the maximum entry speed and skillfully brought his car to the threshold of his tire’s grip.

SCREEE!!

He took the corner at record speed like a professional racer and then floored the pedal to the metal once more!

“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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