There's Something Wrong With This Account - Chapter 483 - : 483, [Demon Sect Must Not Be Insulted]

“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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A story that starts out with Shou taking care of the Gong, then Gong takes care of the Shou.

- Description from Novelupdates

I am a holy knight. To be precise, I am the Church of the God of Light’s Sun Knight…in training.

The Church of the God of Light worships and serves the God of Light, and theirs is one of the three largest religions on this continent.

As the whole continent knows, the Church of the God of Light has the Twelve Holy Knights, and each one has his own unique personality and features.

To be the Sun Knight is to have shining golden hair, sky blue eyes, a compassionate nature, and a brilliant smile.

…even the Sun Knight-in-training is no exception.

The 38th generation of the Twelve Holy Knights have completed their term of office, yet the time for the 39th generation to take over is still far in the indefinite future.

The Judgment Knight is brash and easily angered; the Storm Knight and the Leaf Knight are always fighting nonstop, day and night.

Since childhood, the Sun Knight-in-training has watched the others grow from kids into adolescents.

What must he do in order to become comrades, who will fight through thick and thin for each other, with this group of “younger brothers”?

“Benevolent God of Light, may I ask when I will complete my training that has taken more than ten years?”

“Unlucky” would be the nice way to describe Lucas’ luck. He wasn’t just down bad. He was practically cursed.As someone who never asked to exist, he’s had to experience medical torture, imprisonment, and eventually death. And that was just his first life.Then, just as he thought of escaping his fate, he transmigrates into the body of the Empire’s most useless Flower Vase.Great, now he should have status, wealth, and beauty, right?Wrong.Because his new body, Young Lord Luca Kyros, was a vegetable. And what’s worse was that no one else seemed to know the truth. To everyone else, he was just your typical rebellious heir.He wouldn’t have minded that. He was used to being called a harlot or similar names for being a defective Guide. But the problem was he woke up right smack in the middle of the Royal Military Academy’s Assessment test.And his double body, the one who should be attending school, perished in an ambush.So now, he’s forced to resolve his existential crisis while attending a school he never even enrolled in.He’ll have to conquer his flimsy body, his brooding roommate, and his picky-eater “dungeon”—all that on top of surviving impending doom.Someone definitely needs a miracle.