The President's Pregnant, Ex-Wife - Chapter 4 - – Robin’s unease

Until he became the lowest-ranked master, his lonely and luckless life never changed.Suddenly one day, a descendant injected him with a nanomachine, and the machine started ‘speaking’ to him.[I am the seventh generation Nanomachine manufactured by Sky Cooperation, and I am operating as a central nerve connected to your brain.]“What? What are you talking about?”This was beyond the boy’s knowledge, he turned pale.The Nanomachine linked to his cerebrum realized the User was not understanding a single word it said.“Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”[“I am the seventh generation Nanomachine.]“Nano Machine?”[Yes, Nanomachine.]The boy’s face hardened.Mashin was the deity the Mashin Religion worshipped, along with the Sacred Fire.The religions’ Master communicated with Mashin.“Um, are you really Mashin?”The boy knelt down and asked with a trembling voice. At this, the Nanomachine attached to his cerebrum realized it had been misunderstood.

Blake, a pro gamer and the winner of the Zetron gaming competition for the MMORPG Lord of Legends meets his doom together with few other participants or so he thought.

Together with others, Blake gets summoned over to a world of fantasy and magic filled with danger and mysteries.

However, to go back, they have to fulfill the job of wiping away a foreign civilization that threatens the existence of both the infinite realm and earth

The world has changed into something like a game.

It resembles a survival virtual reality game where people were attacked by zombies and monsters.

And I was the last user of that game.

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.