The Guardian gods - Chapter 455

This book is also known as: “How Programmers Turn a Crappy Game into a Timeless Classic with a Single BUG”Recently, the president of Nitiandang, Gu Fan, once again fell from grace due to a minor bug in his new game.As a top-notch designer in the industry, all of the games designed by Gu Fan have very distinct characteristics:At first, players felt that these games were monotonous, dull, and purely revolting garbage.However, once players discovered a major bug, the gameplay underwent a drastic transformation, rendering them sleep-deprived and unable to quit!So, players once again launched a major debate over “whether this is actually a bug or a game mechanic.”In response to this, Gu Fan clarified in an interview with all seriousness:“Hello everyone, I'm the game designer Gu Fan, but you can also call me by my English name: fan·gu (means rebel).”“I want to reiterate firmly that these so-called 'core gameplays' were not part of our company's original design—they are bugs! It's just that we didn't fix them because the players liked them!”

[If you enter the deep forest, you will be eaten by the shadows.

The shadows of the forest move when a person is not looking.

There is a shadow that mimics people in the deep forest.

The shadow of the forest speaks.]

Rosaline, of the Knights of the White Night, had gone missing after being attacked by enemy forces during a hunting contest.

However, she was found unconscious, badly injured, and lying beneath the cliff.

Rosaline, who woke up a few days later, seemed to have severe memory loss. It was difficult for her to speak even simple words.

She was found walking barefoot, in her pajamas, talking informally here and there. She would even pick up food off the floor!

She’s a strange girl no matter how you look at her. Is that really Rosaline?

“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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