Rebirth Of The Mighty Overlord. - Chapter 57: The appearance of an epic grade treasure! (2/3)

Waking up as Space Marine from Warhammer 40K is crazy enough but living in the world of Sword and Magic is beyond crazy. MC has no idea how he ends up in a fantasy world similar to D&D but one thing he is certain, he has to survive and find out who took him away from his home.I do not own Warhammer 40k or picture for fanfiction cover. Please enjoy this fanfiction and if you are interested in Warhammer please check youtube or google for lore.

Most people don't choose reincarnation.

Reincarnation finds their way to them.

Perhaps they did something great in their life.

Or maybe truck-sama wasn't looking where it was going.

But without fail, those who reincarnate are destined for something great.

A new life where everything changes for the better.

But...

Reincarnation isn't always the greatest thing.

Sometimes you just draw the short end of the stick.

Di Tou just happens to have drawn the shortest stick.

Pulled out of his life randomly.

Taken by a crazy old eccentric man not as a disciple, but as a body double?!

And a janitor body double no less?!

Grasping a system to find... It's a JANITOR SYSTEM!?

Truly, how unlucky can one get?

……………………………………………………………

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He woke up in a familiar world that had vastly changed.

His familiar school had become a mystical school that teaches magic, encouraging everyone to become a mighty magician.

Outside the city, many wandering magical beasts and monsters attacked and preyed on humans.

His world of advanced science changed into one that praised magic. Despite this, his ambition in life, and his social status remained the same; one of the dregs of the society with a struggling father and a disabled step sister that couldn’t walk.

However, Mo Fan found that when most people could only practice a single major element of magic, he was a Versatile Mage!

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.