Two Drunks

The drunken melody reverberated through the desolate road as the man's slurred voice carried its tune. With an empty glass bottle swaying in his hand, he staggered aimlessly, mirroring the uncertainty in his song.

"♪I'm going from here to there♪" he belted out, his footsteps as indecisive as his destination. As he approached a water puddle, his unsteady gait persisted, "♪I don't know as to where I'm going♪"

Undeterred, he continued to sing with gusto, drawing closer to the water's edge. But his balance betrayed him, and he veered toward the roadside, yet miraculously managed to stay on his feet. "♪I'm going from here to there♪" he sang on.

As his foot prepared to touch the watery surface, his stability faltered once more, and he tumbled sideways, landing on his rear, yet miraculously keeping the glass bottle intact.

Observing the bottle's unscathed state, he wove it into his improvised song, "♪Oh my, I've slipped♪" he confessed, looking up at the sky and singing the next line, "♪What have you done?♪" It seemed as though he sought an answer from the god, questioning the events that unfolded.

As if in response to his inquiry, a radiant light materialized in the dark expanse of the sky, resembling an answer from the divine. Converging into a single brilliant point directly above the man, it descended with purpose, descending upon him.

As the radiant beam made contact with the man's body, an intense jolt coursed through him, causing wisps of smoke to billow out. His hair stood on end, transforming into upright spikes. It soon became apparent that this ethereal illumination was not a mere light but a divine thunderbolt unleashed by the wrath of a god. Unfortunately, the unsuspecting man, who had been merrily reveling in his tipsy night, had unwittingly crossed paths with this catastrophic force, resulting in the abrupt and tragic end of his life.

******************

In an aged, dilapidated shop, a slumbering boy could be found, his head resting upon the grime-covered workbench while his derrière occupied a worn wooden chair. The surrounding area bore witness to the remnants of his indulgence—an assortment of empty alcohol bottles. It was evident that the boy's dreamlike countenance was a consequence of his intoxicating reverie.

The flickering glow of a solitary, flickering bulb cast eerie shadows across the worn-out shelves adorned with forgotten curiosities and abandoned tools. The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood and forgotten dreams, creating an atmosphere of quiet melancholy.

Outside, the city's nocturnal symphony filled the air, punctuated by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional hushed conversation. The dim glow of streetlights filtered through the dusty window, casting a hazy illumination upon the slumbering boy and the forgotten shop that housed him.

Within the boy's restless slumber, his dreams weaved a tapestry of fragmented images and emotions. Perhaps he found himself wandering through a labyrinthine cityscape of towering dreams and whispered secrets, or traversing ethereal realms where time and space merged in harmonious chaos.

As the night wore on, the shop maintained its vigil, preserving the boy's tranquil repose amid the worn-out surroundings. Shadows danced upon the cracked walls, seeming to whisper tales of forgotten ambitions and untold stories.

*Boom!* In an instant, a thunderbolt crackled through the sky, descending with precision upon the unsuspecting boy, jolting him awake from his slumber.

"Ahhhh!" escaped the boy's lips as the electrifying surge coursed through his body, transforming his once dormant eyes into radiant orbs of yellow light. His hair, now standing on end, formed sharp, upright spikes, a testament to the electric energy that had surged through him. The thunder's power dissipated as swiftly as it had arrived, leaving behind a wispy trail of smoke that gently wafted from the boy's body.

Startled and now fully alert, the once intoxicated teenager scanned the surroundings, expecting to witness the aftermath of the thunder's impact. Yet, to his astonishment, the shop remained untouched, showing no signs of the dramatic thunderbolt that had struck him directly.

"Where the heck am I?" the boy exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock as he scanned his unfamiliar surroundings. He glanced at the empty alcohol bottle in his hand, squinting to read the label. To his surprise, he couldn't recognize the brand, which was quite unusual for him since he prided himself on his extensive knowledge of every liquor brand out there. His friends even nicknamed him Liquor Larry because of it.

"Did I blackout again?" he muttered to himself, realizing with a sinking feeling that he must have once again surpassed his alcohol tolerance. The unfamiliar place he found himself in and the throbbing headache pounding in his head served as undeniable proof of his overindulgence.

[Welcome to Omnistore….]

[Host found...Store found…..Binding with host…..Binding...….Binding complete...]

[Congratulations you're now the owner of the Omnistore]

"What the heck, am I still drunk? Did someone spiked my drink again?" the boy blurted out, startled by the mechanical voice he heard and the words floating in front of his eyes.

However, just as he uttered those words, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[I'm not an illusion, and yes, you're still intoxicated, and soon you're going to fall unconscious again.]

Norman's eyes widened in shock at the response from the mechanical voice, and his vision started to blur.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" he stammered, still trying to comprehend the bizarre situation unfolding before him.

Ignoring Norman's confusion, the voice continued with a sense of urgency. "[Before that, host, choose one of these cultivation techniques as a gift from the system. Choose quickly, or there will be no gift.]"

Norman felt a sense of pressure as the voice counted down. "[You only have ten seconds... 0... 1...]"

"Please, I don't understand what's happening," Norman pleaded, his frustration and unease growing.

The voice persisted, disregarding his pleas. "[Host, choose, or the gift will vanish... 4... 5...]"

Norman's gaze fixated on the floating screen in front of him, which displayed an overwhelming list of thousands of so-called cultivation techniques. As his vision began to blur once again, he instinctively reached out to touch one of the names on the screen.

"[7... 8...]" The mechanical voice continued to count down in the background.

"[9...]" Just as the voice declared the remaining seconds, Norman's finger made contact with the screen. "[Congratulations! The host has chosen... D...]"

Upon hearing the word "Congratulations," Norman's vision darkened, and he collapsed unconscious onto the table.