Seoul Object Story - Chapter 12: Central Research Institute (3)

Disclaimer: This story doesn't belong to me, I posted it here just to use the audio book feature of the app.For most, becoming a member of the Elite 4 would be the culmination of their Journey. A great achievement that solidified your status in the annals of history. For me, it was just the start of my journey. Hopefully, everything stays Normal.A pre-canon self-insert into the world of Pokémon.

Being a bottom feeder in society is an unpleasant experience.That's how Kiro felt after being left for dead in a back alley. Abandoned and disappointed by the 'work hard' ethic his parents left for him.'At least the heavens are weeping for me.' As the light from his eyes faded, he declared as the last act of defiance.He awoke in a room he hadn't seen in ten years. Whether it was due to sheer luck or divine intervention, he was grateful.'Through the VR game, Asgard, I'll become filthy rich in this life time.'Kiro was blissfully unaware that his return was a cry for something greater, for the underlying threats that hovered over his world.

Meet Irakiel, the Fairy King with a face that could make the devil jealous, and the “totally not boasting, just stating facts” indirect sibling of the Supreme Nirvana Ancestrial Monarchial Absolute God Emperor.

Life was a breeze until he pulled off a two-million-year resurrection stunt. Now, in a world where everything has evolved, one thing stayed constant – Irakiel's charm. He insists he's not a narcissist anymore, but hey, he's still HIM, blame fate, not him!

Or so he was blaming Fate until he got this notification....

*Ding!*

[Lady Fate is laughing at your luck and sending extremely seductive winks.... with L-lip b-bites?! That's not the end of it!... LADY FATE YOU DARE! Ban!!! EMERGENCY!! We need a thot repellent!]

Since then, Irakiel has never fully recovered from his state of shock.

A Great Author named Oink once said,

“Keep your enemies close and their wives, closer.”

……………………………………………………………

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The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”