Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground - Chapter 837 Three

After spending his sixth year at Hogwarts a century ago, Harry finds himself back in the cupboard under the stairs in 1991, once again receiving his Hogwarts acceptance letter.“You’re telling me my parents were killed by a dark wizard?” Harry asked. “Who is this dark wizard? Why are you all so afraid of him that you won’t even say his name?”“It’s Vol—,” Hagrid began cautiously. “Well, we call him Voldemort, because he personally killed hundreds of people.”Harry nodded nonchalantly.“And what happened the next day?”Hagrid: “Uh?”--

Renji was nothing special. No wealth, no fame, no grand ambitions—just a 23-year-old gamer wasting his days in a cluttered apartment, escaping reality through the immersive world of Eternal Realms. In the game, he was powerful, respected, a leader—the elven king, commanding armies and shaping the fate of kingdoms. But outside the screen, he was just another nobody.That all changed the moment his world shattered.What started as a routine gaming session took a terrifying turn when his screen flickered, reality twisted, and an unnatural force yanked him from his chair. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his apartment anymore. He was in a world of towering forests and ancient magic. He was wearing regal robes, a golden crown resting atop his head. And before him stood four elven women, their expressions filled with reverence and concern.They called him King.Memories not his own flooded his mind—battles, alliances, the weight of a kingdom’s future resting on his shoulders. It wasn’t just a game anymore. This was real. And the fate of the elven race now depended on him.But Renji wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a warrior. He was just a gamer who had no idea how to rule a kingdom, let alone survive in a world teetering on the brink of war.But Just as he was pondering on it a mechanical voice sounded in his mind.

Collection of short stories.

- Description from Novelupdates

Weary reader, it is an honor that you have chosen this book amidst the heavy, dim library.Regrettably, this book is unwell.Your fingers should be able to feel the raised growths on the surface of its cover,Words written in bygone days are like parasites rooted in the pages, hoping for someone to observe their wriggling,To feel, to decipher, to touch the essence of this ailing story.If you insist on borrowing this book, please make sure to regularly check your own physical condition.