Weapons of Mass Destruction - Chapter 488: Craziest fucking human I ever met

“No one is standing in the sky to begin with.”

“Whether it’s Hokage or the God of Ninja World.”

“But the window period for the Throne of Heaven has been too long.”

“From today, I will stand in the sky.”

Above Konoha, Naruto Uzumaki’s hairspray hand touched the drooping bangs, revealing sharp eyes.

Boiling blue light descended from the night, pulling Uzumaki Naruto away from the sky.

In Muye Village below, countless ninjas looked shocked and unbelievable.

Iruka: “Impossible, you are not that gentle Naruto, who are you?”

Kakashi: “The disciple I know is a gentle boy who will always take care of and protect others and inherit the will of fire.”

Uchiha Sasuke: “Naruto, you pulled me out of the abyss, but why do you want to leave now? Damn, even if you break your limbs, I, Uchiha Sasuke, will bring you back!”

PS:

A Naruto who was not influenced by Ashura Chakra, accepted Aizen’s teachings, was gentle and refined since he was a child, but was actually ambitious and deep-minded.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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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A genius magician, to fight against his fate to die a natural death from old age, grasped at the truth of magic to allow himself to reincarnate with a power he created himself.

The cycle of reincarnation is repeated multiple times and in his 31st reincarnation, the magician became a boy named Syril who lives in a village of elves.

However, that village is ruled by Humans, and the Elves are treated as livestock.

After becoming 14 years old, Syril, who regained his past knowledge and experience, stands up to help a girl, who is his childhood friend.

The story of the creation of an ideal country begins in that one village, a place where all races can coexist. Elves, Fox-girl, and various other Heroines.

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