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... e same time, they can pick up on the smallest details that no one else would even notice.

Heaven’s truth.

If Yun Roumu hadn’t said it herself, Ye Yu might have already forgotten that, when leaving the Ye family earlier, he had been holding her as they left.

Wait, the word "hug" isn’t quite accurate.

To be fair, it was more like he was pushing and holding her to move along.

But that was only so she wouldn’t notice the eerie ghostly presence from the back mo ...

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The kind-hearted boy Suzuki was supposed to use his cheat ability to be “unconditionally loved by the local race” and enjoy a peaceful slow life in another world… or so he thought.

However, due to a small mistake by a goddess, he was actually reincarnated into a bloody, end-of-the-century world where humans were being destroyed by demons, with slaughter and torture everywhere.

Suzuki was in a desperate situation!! …But for some reason, the demons who saw him seemed to be acting a little strange – what could this mean?

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Dilan, 21-years-old, was anything but ordinary. He sought adrenaline wherever he could.

Life didn’t feel worth living on the small blue planet he was born on.

However, it was a seemingly ordinary night on new year’s eve that everything changed!

A raging storm manifested on the mountainside he had climbed on to feel free, to escape the ordinary world that bored him to death.

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Not even a miracle would be enough to save him anymore.

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Every single existence on the blue planet got connected to the Log of the Ancient, something most would label as “Status”.

The ordinary and mundane world changed forever, turning into a bloody and merciless battlefield as the Primordial Ascension unsealed the shackles that weighed on the planet for millions of years.

Mythical mana was unleashed, animals began to mutate, zombies emerged, and monsters known from fairy tales appeared out of Gates.

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The Omnistore SystemChapter 492: Equally embarrassing regalia (R-18)
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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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