My SSS-Rank Clone Talent: I Level Up Endlessly! - Chapter 73: Buying 10 million dollar house! Peaceful day, right!?

Have you ever wondered what it would feel like if your dick exploded? Or if voodoo or black magic actually worked?Axel got a crash course in both after leaving a one-star review for a trashy smut novel where the hapless author-san offed a minor villain. Little did he know that this particular author had some serious power.Suddenly, Axel found himself in the body of the very villain he was lamenting, right at the moment when everything was about to spiral into chaos.Now, with a second chance at life (and a brand-new set of problems), Axel must navigate the wild world of villainy—complete with explosive consequences and dark magic—if he wants to rewrite his story before it ends in disaster.

Global changes, calamities come, and monsters plunder.

In order to resist monsters, the global data will be digitized, and everyone will get a combat occupation or auxiliary occupation through awakening and transfer at the age of eighteen, and they will become stronger by killing monsters.

Lu Yan awakened the weakest fighting professional undead mage at the beginning, but obtained the professional support system, and the second awakening concealed the professional undead monarch.

“The necromancer is crispy, and it’s gone when touched.”

“This guy is really unlucky. Although he awakens to a combat profession, he is the weakest. He can also summon a few skeleton soldiers, which is useless.”

“And the number of necromancers is very small, basically there is no experience and resources to inherit, and the future is worrying.”

“Hahaha, I have awakened the Paladins, your Almighty King is here.”

Soon after, Lu Yan was wearing undead ghost armor, holding a ghost scythe, with an army of 100,000 undead behind him, and a scythe split the epic monster in half.

You said that the necromancer is weak, what does it have to do with my undead monarch?

- Description from novelbuddy

# GAMEALTERNATEWORLD # RELAXING # PRIEST

In that year, the entire world mutated. The game descended into reality while demonic catastrophes rampaged.

For the sake of survival, everyone had to pick up a job class and level up their skills frantically. They worked hard to be more powerful.

Lin Ye acquired the special talent of Reversing.

He could reverse and strengthen any effect that was targeted at the host. For instance, he could turn damage into healing and buffing into debuffing.

As such, he changed his job class and became a priest.

He challenged an opponent, “Come at me! Attack me with any of your forbidden curses or divine techniques. I will admit defeat even if I lose a bit of blood.”

He then said, “So, your attack has no effect on me? It’s my turn to attack now. Healing Spell!”

[Notification: you attacked your opponent with a healing spell and caused 100 million points of critical damage. The other party has been afflicted with the negative status effects of anti-treatment, poison, burn, silence and fatigue.]

Lin Ye’s opponent was befuddled.

“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.]

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .