PREVIEW

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A member of Kaldor's faction, a fiery young Slarkov named Jael, stepped forward. "We cannot abandon our heritage. Humbad is our home. We must fight to protect it, not run away."

Elyn, standing by Fraumbultin's side, spoke up. "Our heritage is not tied to a place. It is within us, in our unity and resilience. We must survive to preserve our heritage. Leaving does not mean forgetting who we are."

The debate raged on, with both sides presenting their arguments. ...

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This novel is also known as I Wanted To Be A Good Person Once

Travel to a dangerous world with all kinds of strange abilities, calamity creatures, and Noble Phantasms of doom.

Fang Ze just wanted to awaken his extraordinary abilities, be an ordinary detective, eat royal food, and live a good life.

But he found that he was involved in a huge conspiracy from the moment he crossed…

Strange abilities and treasures include: mushrooms that can be planted on the body to keep youth forever; clowns whose IQ decreases and strength increases every time a clone is divided; shabby statues that cause black rain in the region when they are born; Ancient coins that will be possessed; substitute earth spirits that can learn and exercise on behalf of the master, and double the effect, etc…

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“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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