《Defeat the Overlord》Workout
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“It’s very simple. The mission of this game is to defeat the OVERLORD,”
The New channel was still showing clips from the recently concluded Press Conference. After taking a few more questions, Mr. Rutherford ended the conference and walked away.
“What do you think about his statement?” A female news anchor in her twenties, dressed in a black blazer over a white shirt, had an oval face and wheatish skin. Her ponytail swayed as she turned over to face the panel of experts, both young and old.
“Even after so many days have passed since the game’s announcement, we still don’t know what it is about. However, based on his statement, I can say that it will be a mission game with the goal of defeating the final boss, The Overlord.” It was a young man wearing a black jacket, his hair neatly combed, and one could see the seriousness in his eyes as he stared at the Anchor.
The Anchor smiled as she kept nodding her head as if she understood the seriousness of the young man’s words.
But then the television screen went black as Ethan tossed the remote to the side.
That dark lines could be seen on his forehead as if he was fed up with the bullshit being displayed.
Ethan rubbed his face roughly. The Press Conference didn’t reveal much, but he noticed the chill in Mr. Rutherford’s eyes when he said the word OVERLORD.
As Mr. Rutherford stated that the game’s launch is only a week away, and he has no choice but to wait.
But first, he needed to work on his body; he subconsciously looked down and noticed some fat accumulating around his waist, which filled him with annoyance.
...
A bright light suddenly illuminated a dark room, revealing a full set of neatly arranged workout and training equipment.
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Ethan, who was now dressed in a black t-shirt and shorts, frowned as he looked at the equipment, which was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt.
His father was a fitness freak who could spend a lot of time in the basement where he set up a personalized gym, complete with cutting-edge facilities.
But after the death of his parents, no one stepped into this place. He even fired the maids who used to clean this place occasionally.
His steps came to a halt in his place before he shook his head and left the room again before returning with a broom and a cloth.
...
Ethan’s breath was rough as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, but he smiled as he saw the room and the equipment were properly dusted and cleaned.
He sighed as he noticed his shirt was soaked in sweat. Disgusted, he left the room again before returning after a proper bath.
He took a step forward with a gleam in his eyes.
....
A ray of sunlight fell on his face as Ethan groaned and he covered his face with the quilt.
He got so excited about the workout that he overdid it. He had forgotten that he was no longer in his previous world, where his body was flawless. This body hadn’t been to the gym or worked out in twenty-three years.
And the result was obvious: his muscles ached and his joints hurt even when he moved his body an inch.
But after a while, he forcefully sat up. His eyes were still closed, but his breathing was calm. His body was so still that if someone saw him, they would believe that a statue was sitting in front of them.
After about a half-hour, he opened his eyes and exhaled heavily, but he was still sitting in the same position, his face complicated.
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“It’ll take some time,” he grumbled as he shook his head, stood up, and stretched his body.
His gaze was drawn unconsciously to the digital clock on the opposite wall, where it read half-past six.
“There’s still time,” he muttered as he made his way to the washroom to freshen up.
......
He stepped out of his room wearing a dark blue tracksuit with the word ‘Yuki’ imprinted on it.
But his steps came to a halt as he looked down the hall from the first floor. Even though the hall was not as filthy as the gym, it was still disorganized.
He stood there staring at a hall for a while before pulling out his phone and sending a request for a maid hiring service.
It was preferable to have someone live in this massive house and take care of the household chores; the villa was too large for him to live alone.
..........
Ethan exited his sprawling villa estate through a small side gate. The surroundings were serene and calm, with only a few chirps of birds echoing throughout.
His gaze scanned the area, noticing the lush green trees on both sides of the road. While many men and women, both young and old, went for a morning walk.
This was one of the city’s most wealthy neighborhoods. Almost all the people who lived here came from affluent families.
He noticed a few people looking at him as if it was the first time they had seen him.
But he didn’t mind, his gaze was shifted to those aunts in tight shorts and sweaty t-shirts, walking briskly with headphones on their ears.
He gave them a small smile and nodded before returning to his morning jog. But before he averted his gaze, he noticed the women’s surprised and shocked expressions, but they also smiled and nodded at him.
He understood their reaction; Ethan was not a sociable person with a small circle of friends, and this changed dramatically after his parents died. Apart from going to university, he rarely went out, and very few people in society saw him.
As he jogged, his gaze darted around to see smiling, nervous, panting, and many more faces. This world is very calm, and people have no idea that they are living a blessed life; if it were Ebeisia, people would die to live a life like this.
While his mind was reeling somewhere, he collided with someone.
“Ouch,”
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8 135Ode to Freud
For those who do not understand the reference, "wish fulfillment" is before anything a term created by Sigmund Freud in the 1900's. In psychology it is a state of satisfying unconscious needs and desires by the use of fantasy and delusion. In literature it is the very base of fictional work, but also the name of a style of writing where the author sacrifices the key elements of good storytelling in order to fulfill his own psychopathic, neurotic or perverse needs and desires, usually through the use of the characters in weird and forced situations. What I meant by the title of this story is that it is a trashy, badly written, shitty story about me getting some wish fulfillment by the use of some characters and a fictional world of my creation. Not the good kind of fulfillment, since my wishes are of the bad kind and I intend to fulfill those, not yours. Also, being a total amateur and not writing a proper plot before starting are two big indicators that this story is going to go bad. I guess Royal Road call this kind of stories the "Mary Sue" kind. So, unless you are a very ugly piece of trash (at least as much as I am) don’t bother reading it. Now, if you ARE messed up on the level of a clinically depressive, lightly suicidal, lolicon/shotacon aligned morbidly obese hikikomori vermin who sold his virginity to a prostitute and is currently living at the costs of his widowed mother after expending all the money he got from his father’s inheritance, all the while masturbating furiously to beast/furry dickgirl hentai, then be welcomed. Please feel free to get a serving at my antidepressants and also at the canned tuna I have stored in the fridge. There may be some cheese somewhere, and I am pretty sure I bought some juice the other day, but I have no idea where it is. Anyway. You may dislike what I write because of all the amauteur(ish) writing, or you may not. Who knows. Give it a try and write a comment. It gets lonely writing to no one. Also, feel free to grant me inspiration not only by making comments about the world and/or characters, but specially by suggesting a music for me to listen while I write the next chapter. Be warned : I do get influenced easily by the background music I listen while writing. If you exist, of course. I'm seriously doubting anyone has read anything after the "lolicon hikikomori" thing. Also, I have a tiny dick.Just so you can feel better about yourself a little more. Or maybe I have just degraded psychologically a little more and now I am into shame-play. I wonder if the psychiatrist would increase my meds a bit if I told her about it.Hope I never get to penispanick, though! Self-mutilation, especially of the castration type, would be baaaad. After all, I do like my prostitutes. And having sex with them when I can afford it. Oh, yeah, the story. I will just write the first chapter in a few moments.Until later, b(i)each.
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8 151