MTL - For Thousands of Years, My Weakest Brother Has Become a Demon King (1000 Years Later, Even My Weakest Follower Has Become A Demon King) - Chapter 292 children

From the moment they set foot on the colony spacecraft, 10 million volunteers started a new journey.
This book is about farming in the early stage, and fighting for hegemony in the middle and later stages.
Guan Gong fights Qin Qiong, and Chitu wants to turn into a dragon. As an online game for hegemony, famous officials and generals in Chinese history are indispensable.
In addition, some non-human intelligent races left over from prehistory are active in this era that belongs only to human beings, adding luster to the new glory.
Everything starts from the island, let us follow the footsteps of the protagonist, keep moving forward, and create a new great

- Description from novelbuddy

“Unlucky” would be the nice way to describe Lucas’ luck. He wasn’t just down bad. He was practically cursed.As someone who never asked to exist, he’s had to experience medical torture, imprisonment, and eventually death. And that was just his first life.Then, just as he thought of escaping his fate, he transmigrates into the body of the Empire’s most useless Flower Vase.Great, now he should have status, wealth, and beauty, right?Wrong.Because his new body, Young Lord Luca Kyros, was a vegetable. And what’s worse was that no one else seemed to know the truth. To everyone else, he was just your typical rebellious heir.He wouldn’t have minded that. He was used to being called a harlot or similar names for being a defective Guide. But the problem was he woke up right smack in the middle of the Royal Military Academy’s Assessment test.And his double body, the one who should be attending school, perished in an ambush.So now, he’s forced to resolve his existential crisis while attending a school he never even enrolled in.He’ll have to conquer his flimsy body, his brooding roommate, and his picky-eater “dungeon”—all that on top of surviving impending doom.Someone definitely needs a miracle.

Life from birth has been nothing but hell. I lost my parents to some stupid aristocrats whom they offended. Executed for no good reason.

My relatives abandoned me and pushed me aside. They feared for their lives and left me and my sister to starve and wander the streets alone!

No, this is worse than hell!

I watched my sister die of starvation. Her lips were dry and her feet bloody. Her nails were broken and her fingers riddled with cuts. She struggled in my hands and after a few seconds of struggle she passed away. She seemed joyful in death so I prayed mine will come just as swift and merciful as hers.

So I stayed in the alleyway, alone with her rotten corpse awaiting my fate for God knows how long. I could see it already. The darkness encroaching from all sides

Everyone said death is scary but I say it’s the end! Who needs life after death? What is the need for reincarnation?

Who would want to return to this crazy world?

“It’s not yet time for you to go… You have one more task to accomplish as my host” A voice called out to me.

I could barely see or speak but how can I miss such a beautiful face? It was an extremely handsome man who gazed at me with tender eyes.

.....

“Haven’t I suffered enough? Can’t I just rest?” I cried out. Why would I want to stay back in such a cruel world?

“Don’t you want to avenge the death of your parents? Don’t you want to become something greater? I can make that happen!” The beautiful man said with an alluring voice.

“You… Who are you?” I asked with an anxious heart.

My parents always said God is the only one who cares about me! Maybe in my final hours, he has come to save me.

“Call me Death…”

“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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