In the final scene of the "Fragment" world, Jason was very clear about the true disparity between himself and those "Bizarre" entities.
Their superiority over him was almost crushing!
He didn't even have a sliver of a chance to resist.
It was as if he were an ant!
Although Jason was still unable to make an accurate comparison of how strong Lorde's "Bizarre" entities were, after learning about the Bizarre entities in Ang City, Jason had made up his mind.
He wouldn't go back until he pushed himself to his current "limit"!
Otherwise, even if he did return, once targeted by Lorde's "Bizarre," escaping death would be difficult.
It could even be said that a fate worse than death awaited him.
Even with his "immortal" Talent, it was the same.
Because this was one of the traits that attracted these "Bizarre" entities.
And besides, if someone could become a Sword God in Novice Village!
Why can't I train to "One-Punch Peace" in Novice Village?
Jason thought to himself silently.
Within him, his determination only grew stronger.
He slightly adjusted his sitting posture so that his body could better shield the black notebook his fingertips were touching, and then he began his action.
Select Soup (Clear Soup): Beef Soup!
Jason made his selection, and immediately 7 points of satiety were consumed.
Subsequently, more text began to appear in the notebook.
[Clear Soup, always delicious.]
[It can be considered a connector.]
[But more so, it exists on its own!]
[It depends on your choice.]
[Remember: this is the clear soup you ordered]
Following the usual text, a check mark appeared after [Beef Soup].
Then came the footnote—
[Background: As a local writer with a considerable reputation, within ten years, you've only written one moderately successful book, which has led to great skepticism about you, to the point where you've started to doubt whether you have the Talent for writing. Therefore, to produce a truly successful book, you've left your familiar home for a strange city, in search of something special... material?]
[Main Quest: Sell at least 100,000 copies of a new book within 120 days (must be willingly purchased by others, and one person counts for only one book): 0/100,000]
[Temporary language acquisition; disappears upon leaving the instance]
[Clothing, appearance, and equipment temporarily changed; reverts upon leaving the instance]
[Detected no gunpowder weapons]
(Tip: Please enjoy your clear soup.)
Jason was taken aback.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the black notebook closed.
In that instant, he found himself in a room.
The room was small and very cramped.
In front of him was a large desk, with piles of books on both sides. Each pile was about 40 centimeters tall and included books of various thicknesses, each marked with a wooden bookmark that protruded from the pages but otherwise was unremarkable. In the space between the two piles of books was a thick stack of manuscript paper, beside which lay two fountain pens and a bottle of ink.
The manuscript paper was completely blank, nothing was written on it.
Looking forward from the desk, there was an open desk lamp, its orange bulb casting a bright light over the desk, Dispel the gloom.
Moving his gaze away from the desk, Jason lifted his head to see the clock on the wall.
The desk was right up against the wall, leaving no gap whatsoever.
Turning to the left, thick, floor-length curtains blocked everything.
On the right side, there was a single bed, which would require him to get up and take five steps before he could lie down on it.
However, the single bed was very narrow.
Not that the bed itself was narrow, but it was piled with books, which made it appear so.
Indeed, not just the bed, but the floor was also covered in books.
Turning back, Jason saw three bookshelves side by side.
The shelves were crammed full of books.
"Is this a writer's room?"
Jason was somewhat astonished.
In his imagination, writers were always high-end.
They were supposed to light a cigarette, holding it in the left hand, and pen in the right, occasionally writing furiously, other times carefully crafting each stroke, and while pausing for deep thought, taking a drag of the cigarette would bring inspiration springing forth, prompting them to continue writing.
Even in the most hurried times, writers maintained their poise.
Formal attire wasn't necessary, but a certain formality was expected.
His upper body was clad in pajamas, and his lower half in boxer shorts, with bare feet.
His slippers had been thrown into a corner of the room.
Looking around, Jason didn't find the mask or the broad-bladed, short-handled machete, so his gaze fell on the desk drawer.
Based on past experience, his mask and machete should be nearby.
This experience wasn't wrong.
When Jason opened the desk drawer, he found his mask and broad-bladed, short-handled machete.
Touching the mask and his weapon,
Jason couldn't help but feel a bit more grounded. Then, he stood up and walked toward the slippers in the corner of the room.
He carefully avoided several piles of books on the way.
After putting on the slippers, Jason then headed toward the door.
Outside the door was a small living room.
Compared to the study cum bedroom, the small living room was much tidier and cleaner.
From where Jason stood in the living room, it could be divided into two parts.
On the left-hand side was a round coffee table surrounded by four armchairs.
On the right-hand side was the hallway leading out of the suite.
Stepping out of the room, one could see a refrigerator, TV, telephone, and other items against the wall, with a coat rack on the side of the hallway.