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The Proselyte's POV

Welcome to the City! A single clustered civilization that makes up 30% of Mother Earth. Anything beyond that is too incomprehensible to be cared about~ Our massive City is divided into 100 Districts, each with their own unique technological advancements and cultures. No two Districts are alike! One could be a land of utter zero privacy with skyscrapers and layered highways, and the next could be a land of strength with oriental warriors and mutants! So don't forget to equip yourself with equipment and enhancement from Workshops! They have everything from nano-tattoos, circuitry magitech scrolls, bionic weapons, augmentation procedures, martial-art cards, body bending potions, or even a reality defying technology known as the Tesseract of the World! Hmm? You want to know my name? Quite a cautious question, if you ask me. It's Faust Hecates, my esteemed guest~! Hmm. Don't you think that it's too early to trust me? _____________________ After years of standing beneath the jaded shade of the background, the man with unlimited knowledge, Faust Hecates, decided to join in the grand scheme of the universe once again—to show that neither the dusk nor the dawn should dare to mess with the Man who dealt with the Devil! _____________________ Noteworthy Tags: | Sci-fi Meets Fantasy — Veteran Protagonist — Post-Post Apocalypse — Syndicate Building/Organization Building — Semi-Dystopian — Monster Hunting — Weapon Crafting — Tech Crafting | Disclaimer: The cover illustration is not owned by me. It is ready to be taken down at any moment if requested.

TempoLane · Kỳ huyễn
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
190 Chs

Gacha is just simply a Lottery on Crack

The dance orchestra of the ever shifting symbol then finally came to a halt. The logo that was made out of blood appeared to form a scorpion's stinger. Whilst it was apparent what it was about, the true nature of the object along with the name was only known by the Duchess of the Crack of Fracture.

"You have acquired a L'heure de la Folie! Congratulations!" Impertus exclaimed.

"What language is that?" Roger asked me. Although, she was probably asking herself but ended up saying it out loud.

"You have never gone to District 32?" I asked.

"I'm not rich."

"It's french."

"The potatoes?"

In the middle of our unnecessary and non beneficial conversation, Impertus had already drawn the object of the lottery from her spatial blood. It was like how the symbol that was projected by the device had implied a scorpion stinger at the size of an average human adult's wrist.