Diary of a Dead Wizard - Chapter 347: He’ll Tell You

Eli Turner had perfected the art of coasting through life, gaming, lounging, and vibing with no grand ambitions beyond the next high. But his laid-back existence is upended when his laptop inexplicably transforms into a gateway to another world. What starts as a surreal escape becomes a perilous journey as Eli finds himself wielding a mysterious system that allows him to level up, fight monsters, and gain abilities beyond his wildest dreams.At first, the portal world feels like a haven, offering purpose and adventure Eli never knew he craved. Guided, or manipulated, by Azrael, a mischievous god orchestrating the game, Eli rises as one of the system's chosen players. But as the quests grow more dangerous and Azrael’s true intentions begin to surface, Eli struggles to balance the fantasy world with his life back home. His girlfriend, Sara, and his friends are left grappling with a version of Eli they hardly recognize, as the lines between his two lives blur.When the system expands to players worldwide, Eli crosses paths with others drawn into Azrael’s cosmic experiment: Yumi Tanaka, a fiercely disciplined Japanese student with a perfectionist streak, and Arjun Mehta, a charming Indian playboy with secrets of his own. Each carries their own burdens and ambitions, but all three must face the harsh truth: Azrael’s game is far more than it seems.As alliances are forged, rivalries ignite, and the stakes escalate, Eli must confront not only the dangers of the portal world but the growing rift between the person he is and the hero he’s becoming. In a game where every move is a test and every choice ripples across both worlds, the question remains: can Eli, Yumi, and Arjun uncover the truth before the system consumes them all?

“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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I got transmigrated into a game I’ve never seen before.

I thought it was a top-notch RPG and spent 30 years on it.

I retired as a war hero and planned to spend my remaining time leisurely.

But it turns out, it was an academy story?