The Dark Magician Transmigrates After 66666 Years - Chapter 3: 7th circle Dark Magician (3)

I was betrayed in my first life.A cripple, broken and discarded—I died after catching the one I loved in bed with the only person I ever called a friend.That was the start of real torment.When I woke up, it was in another world.A goddess stood before me.She told me I could go back.Back to my world.Back to everything I lost.All I had to do… was play my part.The side character.And I did.I followed the script.Played my role to perfection.They hated me.Mocked me.Used me.Again and again.But I kept going. Because I believed her.Because I wanted to go home.Then one day, I found out.The hard way.It was all a lie.There was no going back.There never was.She used me.Again.Just like everyone else.Thrown away like trash once I outlived my usefulness.That was the day something inside me snapped.And so, I made a vow.I would take everything from her.I would enslave every single heroine she chose.And I would kill the hero she placed all her hopes on.If she wanted to protect this world…Then I would burn it down.But the more I tried, the more things started to change.And then one day—I found one of the heroines.One of the hero's yanderes I had enslaved.She stood there, trembling, a knife in her hand.“You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered, eyes wild.“I won’t let them have you. You belong to me.”...What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening?!

Alex was just trying to escape his dead-end job and overbearing family. Then the System arrived, bringing with it magic, Rifts, and the chance for ordinary people to become extraordinary. Unfortunately for Alex, his stats started out as unimpressive as his old life. But when he gains the unique trait {Primordial Will}, which only allows him to put his free points into one stat, everything changes—though not necessarily for the better.Thrown into a dangerous Rift way above his pay grade, Alex quickly discovers that surviving the chaos isn't just about having powerful skills. He'll need every ounce of his Willpower and resourcefulness if he wants to make it out alive and bring home the rewards that could finally give him an edge.This series follows Alex as he begins to master the art of Mana Threads and creates a revolutionary new magic system with Spell Circles. He starts to realize that magic isn’t just a tool—it’s a path to power that few can fully grasp. But with the world’s governments struggling to contain the rising number of superhuman threats, Alex will have to navigate more than just monsters and Rifts. In a world where “might makes right,” who really calls the shots?

“This twisted world needs to be reset. That's what V2 is for!”-------------------------------------------------------------Waking up only to find that she's reincarnated into a world very reminiscing of a game that she used to play, Yuki is suddenly thrust into a worldwide conflict. To ensure the longevity of her newfound motherland, Yuki will have no choice but to flip this war upside down. If only to finally has some closure for past life also.So buckle up, strap your helmet tight, and keep your rifle loaded and on safe. This is not your bog-standard story about overpowered characters on a battlefield, no. This is a story about warfare in all its bloodied glory, the leader that calls the shot, the soldiers that execute them, and the nation that's backing them up. And along the way, sprinkle those a healthy dose of beautiful maidens, lily/futa romances, and build a harem.This is not gonna be a quick and decisive run, no. We're in this one for the long haul. Hail, Ironblood!

“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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