His Contractual Mistress - Chapter 47: Cut James Fingers

This is the 40,000th year that the Empire has ruled the Milky Way. The glory of the Great Crusade has long been lost in the dust of history. Su Yu traveled through time and opened his eyes to see the ruined planet in front of him, with a confused look on his face.

On this planet, there are extremely dilapidated war machines that stretch for thousands of kilometers, alien behemoths whose roars can shatter mountains and rivers, and radiation that can cause further damage to the surrounding environment just by moving. Alien beast——

There is everything here except hope.

Regardless of whether he wanted to or not, Su Yu, who had struggled to survive for three years and was inevitably infected with radiation sickness in the end, seemed to be one of the desperate people.

Until his career panel, which allows for unlimited career changes, was finally opened.

“Ding!”

“It is detected that the host has met the prerequisites. Do you want to take up the occupation [Mechanic]?”

“After completing this profession, you can gain professional experience and improve your professional level from daily maintenance, recycling, and assembly of mechanical creations. With each upgrade, you can gain an increase in physical fitness…”

Looking at the old gun parts piled up in his repair room, Su Yu’s eyes lit up like never before!

Many years later, at the core of the empire, at the highest point of the Terran world, the mechanic from the Ruined Star, the Ghost Shadow Blade of the Dead Wasteland, the restarter of the Titan Weapon Plan, the Governor of the Broken Star Territory, the Lord of Mechanical Ascension, the Supreme Throne of the Forge World, Su Yu looked at the torrent of steel coming from below and waved his hand to give the order!

[Our goal is to make the (second) (crossed out) empire great again! 】

- Description from novelbuddy

“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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