MTL - What is It Like To Be Summoned As a Giant? - v2 Chapter 303 million soldiers

Dear tired Reader, it is an honor that you have chosen this book amidst the heavy, gloomy aisles of the Library.It is with some regret, however, that I must inform you this book is ill.Your fingers should be able to feel the raised Proliferation of tissues on the surface of the Skin of the book,The words written in days of old are like Parasites taking root in the pages, longing for someone to observe their writhing,To sense, to decipher, and to touch the very essence of this sick story.If you insist on borrowing this book, please be sure to regularly check your own physical condition.Keep in mind.

The last thing Ariel expected after a weekend of binge reading was to be transmigrated into the same novel as the evil secretary who was bound to be eliminated.“It's okay, I can just disappear from the main story line and live a peaceful life.”However her hopes were shattered when a system barged into her mind and pushed her to fulfil the dead secretary wishes. The top one, capture the male lead.As she saw the formidable man sitting in his office chair with leisure, the full time student Ariel who never had an experience wirh boys thought with dismay.'This is going to be a difficult task.'However, it was this or deathSo she plunged into the journey of seducing the male lead, unaware that once she gained his attention no one would be able to save her from his clutches......Transmigration. System. Multiple Love Interests with a focus on the alpha lead. Possessive, alpha Male Lead and lots of face slapping. Fast-paced.

“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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