NOVEL NEXT Chapter 3: ZEUS! YOUR SON HAS RETURNED!
"Hmm... What should be my next plan?" Caelus mused, his expression shifting from the typical sarcastic comedy relief to one of deep thought—like he was plotting how to solve world hunger or cure cancer.
As I mentioned earlier, Caelus doesn't take anything seriously. Why would he? He's got the means to overcome and outmatch anyone or anything that crosses his path. Plus, he's just too lazy to stress over things that don't directly impact him.
In his past life, the guy got so bored because his intelligence was so far ahead of everyone else. No one could match him. Hell, he had to create enemies himself just to have someone worthy of challenging him. But, alas, even that didn't work out. No one could keep up.
But, of course, when Caelus realizes that his laziness might put him at a disadvantage—that's when he takes action. And trust me, when he decides to stop slacking off, it happens faster than light travels a millimeter. No risks allowed.
Especially in a place like World of Journeys. If you think medieval Earth was dangerous, think again. Imagine being a peasant in the middle of the Dark Ages on Earth, where your biggest concerns might be dying from the Black Death or getting stabbed, burned, or accused of witchcraft.
In World of Journeys? Those are nothing more than minor inconveniences. By the middle stages of the game, being caught by a necromancer and tortured to death for their experiments was considered a merciful fate. Yeah, it's that kind of world.
"Status Window."
It was the basic status window that every player in World of Journeys had access to. It displayed the essential information needed for the time being, from stats to abilities.
But Caelus hadn't expected it to show up. After all, he wasn't a player anymore. He Was Character now.
Though He wasn't some random character plugged into this world—he was a reincarnation, born into this life from the very beginning. He had lived this life as Caelus from the start, not as some avatar of a player.
Strangely, though, he didn't experience the usual sensation that everyone else did when the status window appeared.
Normally, players felt a rush, a kind of pleasurable build-up in their bodies, a physical surge that made the whole process feel... almost addictive.
But Caelus never felt that. Which meant one thing: this status window had probably been with him from the very moment he was born into this world. At least, that's the only logical explanation his mind could come up with, given the limited knowledge he had right now.
"Interesting..." he muttered, eyes narrowing as he inspected the floating screen, his mind already racing with possibilities.
{Name: Caelus Van claudian}
{Race: Demi-God}
{Affiliation(Current): Rome}
{Titles: King Of Rome}
{Age: 17}
{Power Stage: Above Average}
{Luck Points: 9,869*IT'S OVER 9000!* (Average Luck Points: 10}
{Villain Points: 13,876(Average Villain Points: 30}
{Innate Talents: ?}
Caelus casually glanced at the floating screen before getting out of his large bed, crawling his way out and making a mess of the sheets in the process.
As his feet touched the cold marble floor beneath him, a smile tugged at his lips—a smile that looked innocent, almost angelic, but also a little... off. It was the kind of smile a psycho would give, and he knew it.
"This new world is going to be so interesting..." he muttered to himself, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
...
...
He finally stood up, making his way toward the large mirror placed in the room. The mirror had several combs laid out in front of it, no doubt for the king's convenience. Without much thought, Caelus grabbed one and began running it through his long, blonde hair. His movements were slow and deliberate, almost like a ritual.
Smiling once again—this time with an innocent, yet mischievous air—he thought, A king needs to look after his looks and image, right? RIGHT?
Knock knock.
{A/N: It's the United States of Murica, mothafucka.}
As Caelus continued combing his hair, he heard a knock on the door, followed by a sweet, almost saccharine voice.
"Your Highness, are you awake?"
The voice was so sweet, it could give someone diabetes just from hearing it. But, of course, Caelus wasn't fooled. If that were true, he'd probably have already died from an overdose of sugar.
"Yes, I am," he replied, not bothering to look up from his grooming. He kept combing his hair, making a few strands deliberately messy. Damn, I look like a Rizzler, he thought, clearly admiring himself.
Soon enough, he was gazing into the mirror, admiring his handsome face—an act of pure narcissism. If he had his way, he might print his face on every coin in Rome.
Finally, he stopped combing and took one last look at himself in the mirror. "You may enter, Helena," he said, his voice smooth and confident, giving permission to the person waiting outside.
As the door opened, a stunning woman with brown hair and eyes entered. She moved with purpose, and her presence was almost magnetic. She was Helena, the priestess of the Roman pantheon and Caelus' royal advisor.
"Good morning, Your Royal Highness," she greeted, her voice warm and respectful, though there was a hint of eagerness in her tone.
Helena was undeniably beautiful—her curvy figure could easily make a supermodel jealous. And those... well, let's just say, her proportions were enough to make anyone wonder how she even managed to walk with such a... gift.
"Your Royal Highness," Helena began, bowing slightly as she spoke, "I'm here to inform you that the gladiator fight between the people guilty of treason will start soon."
She went on, talking animatedly while maintaining eye contact with Caelus, clearly ready to get into the details.
"So, I think I will require your presence there," Helena continued, unaware that Caelus had already zoned out. She was waiting for a response, but his mind was elsewhere.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a golden screen appeared in front of him, its shimmering light cutting through his distracted thoughts.
{Ding! First Story Line Has Begun.}
The notification hit him like a bolt, snapping him back to reality. His eyes flicked to the floating screen, his mind processing the significance of what it meant. A story was unfolding, and he was at the center of it.
Meanwhile, not too far away—about 2200 cups of tea away, to be precise—someone else was having quite a different experience.
A man, chained up like a slave, suddenly regained consciousness. His eyes snapped open, and with a fierce shout that echoed through the air, he yelled at the top of his lungs,
"ZEUS! YOUR SON HAS RETURNED!"