In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group - Chapter 8: Hes Not Yet Batman

The kind-hearted boy Suzuki was supposed to use his cheat ability to be “unconditionally loved by the local race” and enjoy a peaceful slow life in another world… or so he thought.

However, due to a small mistake by a goddess, he was actually reincarnated into a bloody, end-of-the-century world where humans were being destroyed by demons, with slaughter and torture everywhere.

Suzuki was in a desperate situation!! …But for some reason, the demons who saw him seemed to be acting a little strange – what could this mean?

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In this world, mystery and the supernatural never depart.Those who, with bodies honed through thousands of trials and indomitable wills, break the chains of life and pursue human limits in modern cities, are known as martial artists.Under neon lights, swords clash. At the tops of towering buildings, friendships are made through fists.Among mountains and peaks, heroes discuss their ways.Here, martial artists who have broken the “seven physical limits” carve their godlike names under the heavens, stunning both the ancient and modern worlds and making the stars shine brighter!Here, the once-in-a-decade “World Martial Arts Tournament” broadcast is the highest rated program globally, where martial artists fight for their nation and themselves!Here, martial artists, with their mortal flesh, combat dark spirits and mythical beasts in life and death battles to protect their homeland's civilization.Here, every true martial artist unswervingly believes:“The martial way is boundless; my body is unfettered!”

Lin En transmigrated into a magical world that resembled medieval Europe but had the power of magic.Here, magic could affect and control basic particles, which was based on scientific theories that served as magic formulas!The wizards, who were actually scientists, were struggling to explore the truth of the world under the chase and blockade of the church. Lin En’s arrival sparked a renaissance of the alternate world…The white phosphorus fire, known as the Flame of Hell, the liquid nitrogen field of extreme cold, and the resonance frequency that kills without a trace… A few years later, the Holy See gathered all countries to the city, known as the legendary wizard, the pioneer of magic Lynn under the gaze of a group of wizards, wrote down the mass energy equation known as the ladder of God by later generations! Lynn looked around the crowd and said nonchalantly. “Mass and energy are interchangeable, and based on this theory, I have developed a powerful forbidden curse… It’s called — “The Big Nuke!”We will re-examine the world from the perspective of magic, where science is magic, and magic is science!

“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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