God Of The Omniverse - Chapter 270: World War III Part 3

Under a twist of fate, Aurus was struck by a bolt of lightning, making him realize that he would never have the chance to play the game he poured most of his time and effort into ever again.

Fortunately, a goddess took pity on his miserable fate and gave him two choices: the first one was to reincarnate through the Six Paths of Reincarnation, and the second one…was to reincarnate as a stick. Hearing the second choice, Aurus could not help but remember...that this was exactly the starting character of the game he used to play!

Without hesitation, Aurus chose the latter, bringing a smile to the goddess’ face…which seemed to contain secrets and desires hidden to the naked eye.

And so, Aurus was reborn into a world that he was familiar with, albeit this time—he was now living a life as a stick!

Though that may be the case, witness the adventures of Aurus as he turns the expectations of everyone around him upside down as he gradually returns to his previous heights… and perhaps, far beyond it!

Witness the birth of a supreme being...from its roots!

Note: Please understand that the beginning of this novel was written at a time where I didn't know a lot about pacing and other important stuff crucial in writing. Once you get past that point (around the midpoint of Volume 2), it gets better. I hope you enjoy reading!

Ethan's head throbbed violently as he opened his eyes, his vision hazy and unfocused. A dull ringing filled his ears, drowning out his thoughts.“What’s happening…?” he thought, his mind sluggish, struggling to catch up with reality. One moment, he was asleep—or at least, he thought he was—and the next, searing pain forced him awake.His vision swam, shapes blurring together in a disorienting mess. But then, muffled noises filtered through the haze—frantic, panicked sounds. Someone was trying to scream, their voice smothered, choked by something.A cold shiver ran down his spine.As his sight gradually sharpened, Ethan's breath hitched.He was on all fours, looming over someone. A girl.Her body twisted and writhed beneath him, ropes biting into her wrists and ankles. Her mouth was gagged, muffling her cries. Her wide brown eyes, brimming with fear and fury, glared up at him.Ethan's body locked in place, his blood running cold.“What the…?” His mind reeled, thoughts slamming into each other in chaotic disarray. “What kind of bizarre dream is this?”Panic clawed at his chest. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as he scrambled backward, only to realize his limbs felt sluggish, uncooperative, like they didn’t belong to him.“Is this… is this some kind of twisted fantasy I never knew I had?” A sickening thought slithered through his mind, making his stomach churn.The girl's frantic squirming slowed for a moment, her gaze flickering with confusion as she took in his expression—his trembling hands, his wide, horrified eyes. But the fear returned just as quickly. She struggled harder, her body arching, her muffled screams rising in pitch.Ethan wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but before he could force out a word, a glowing blue window materialized before his eyes.His breath caught.A translucent, hovering screen?“What…?”Lines of glowing text scrolled across its surface.---[System Activated…][Host Confirmed.][Simulating Previous Data…]Ethan awakens in a mysterious world, shackled by a curse that clouds his judgment and drives him toward choices he never wished to make. Burdened by guilt and responsibility, he must navigate the fallout of his actions while unraveling the truth behind the curse—and his place in this enigmatic new reality.

I’ve entered a hidden route in a failed game.And now, I have to become a false prophet.There’s no other choice.Since it’s come to this, I’ll become the greatest false prophet on the continent.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.