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... y immediately rushed to [ Jinyang Hall] I am looking forward to their good news.

When they want to come, the patriarch and the elders of the elders are strong shots together, and the plans are so thorough, and there are traitors and helpers. [Nine Lingzus] must be hand-to-hand.

just--

What they didn't think was that after the two strong men returned, they were not as happy as they thought, and they didn't mention anything about it, which made them very confused.

At th ...

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I, Zhou Mingrui, transmigrated to an alternate world and became an ordinary little skeleton.

I received a system at the start which made me more powerful whenever I killed an enemy.

I can draw the health, mana, and other stats from the dead.

Every 10 levels, I can also awaken a talent.

Level 10: The Book of the Dead.

All incantation time for Undead Spells is shortened by half, and their effects are increased twofold.

Level 20: Skeleton Armor.

Build weapons and armor that are suitable for the user using skeletons. Weapons can be upgraded when the user’s level increases, while the armor can be upgraded to increase its immunity against all negative effects.

Level 30: Soul Summoning From River Lethe.

The user can summon dark creatures. The maximum number of summons increase with the user’s level. The summoned creatures’ stats are increased significantly.

I, Yan Wuyue, leader of the human. I am crowned the [Goddess of Savior] by the people of this world.

I reincarnated 30 years before the apocalypse. I have to get stronger in order to change history and save humanity.

So, my initial summon monster is extremely important.

I thought I could sign a contract with a dragon, a phoenix, an angel, or some other creature from the ancient myths.

But when that ordinary, unassuming little skeleton fell from the sky…

I was plunged into despair.

Even the most ordinary sorcerer could summon a ton of these things with a wave of his hand!

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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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