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... > You read that wrong too.

And you read the last line twice to make sure I didn't troll you again.

Anyway, forget all that, the forty Heroes in front of me asked the same question.

"How long?"

I was really frustrated, but this time...

"How long have we waited to meet you, my lord." All the forty Heroes added.

This was what they meant.

I smiled.

"Well, I finally arrived."

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Under the vast immortal sky, the brilliance of an era is nothing but fireworks blooming at the fingertips.

Overlooking the earth, for thousands of years, life and death, where are they all? The Immortal Gate, the Dynasty, and the Supreme Holy Land are all just a handful of loess under the Immortal Vault.

A thousand years of splendor, and a smash into ashes.

Cinders sprout in the depths of the ruins, and you and I strive to be the trees that reach the sky.

What the hell is on the other side of the Immortal Firmament?

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In the wake of the Battle of Katze Plains, the banner of Ainz Ooal Gown flies proudly over the city of E-Rantel. The Sorcerous Kingdom has entered the world’s stage to the clamour of death and devastation; the surrounding nations fearfully prepare even as they reel from its calamitous debut. Within the borders of the newly annexed realm, its Human subjects cower in their homes as the Undead openly walk the streets and stalk the lands. Yet, when a destitute noble finds herself under the auspices of an unlikely benefactor, events are set into motion that will resound over the world for ages to come.A kingdom builder based on the events and setting of Kugane Maruyama’s Overlord. In a fantasy world where beings of matchless power are transmigrated from the arbitrary existence of a game, Valkyrie’s Shadow chronicles the lives of the natives whose reality has been turned upside down by their advent. It is the tale of a nation created by the whims of a supreme sovereign, and his unstoppable servants who each have their own, often twisted, interpretations of their Master’s Will. There is no victory in strength; no miracles wrought from magic that will save them: only the inexorable advance of a new world order where those who secure a place of service within will find themselves turned against the world that they once knew.[Slow buildup. Methodical storytelling with a focus on well-rounded kingdom building and character development.]

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“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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