MTL - Rebirth of the Supreme Celestial Being - v2 Chapter 709 Weeping

It was just one of those ordinary college class sessions when all of a sudden, texts and quest cards started popping up in the air.

While everybody is flustered by the strange situation, all the lights go dark and the lecture room is engulfed in pitch darkness. Panicked, everybody is afraid of reaching out and taking the quest cards, but not the main character, Seong-woo: He instinctively realizes that he has to pick a card to survive, and he chooses to become a necromancer.

Soon after, a tutorial quest appears, and the entire school turns chaotic. Suddenly, goblins pop out everywhere and start slaughtering people. Survivors find it hard to adjust themselves to all the sudden changes, but Seong-woo overpowers one of the goblins by using his necromancy skill and starts to complete the quest given to him.

Seong-woo continues to grow his power and so does a number of his followers. He is surrounded by the forces of death that vow loyalty to him, as well as talented followers and trustful colleagues, but he is challenged by numerous villains in addition to a system that threatens to degenerate all of humanity.

In a world that is facing a change that it has never experienced before, a necromancer destroys everything with his committed forces

Humanity is caught in a great upheaval after the Intergalactic Union of All Species coincidentally discovers their existence on what they had formerly considered to be the fringe of the universe.Without any say in the matter, they get indicted into the Union as a legal member. Unfortunately, this meant that they were now obligated to partake in the exploration of a new Chaotic Realm parallel to their universe containing rich energies, resources, and essence that the universe itself craved.To that end, the universe has created its own will, which seeks to gather all races and strengthen warriors from them to explore the dangerous but lucrative Chaotic Realm, initiating the Augmented Reality simulation, Essence.In Essence, one can experience a carefully crafted universe similar to an RPG game, either by going in through your soul or going in through VR. The former means that death is true, and the latter is similar to a normal FIVR experience.Those who go in with their souls can freely receive feedback from their 'game characters' to obtain all stats, skills, and items they acquire in Essence, while those who go in with VR do not obtain that benefit.However, those who pay for it in Essence can receive an awakening of genetic talent called abilities. These abilities are graded from F to EX, a total of 10 stages.Not much is expected from the human race when the first 100 participants get chosen at random from the public - a standard protocol - only for each one of them to awaken at least an A-grade ability.Then, there was Damon Arnan, a young Ghanaian politician, who ended up awakening, not one, not two, but three EX-Grade Talents.The human race, which had just entered the galactic playground, was about to experience a storm with Damon smackdab in the middle.

“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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