Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

Chapter 153 Locke's Hidden Secrets, The Supervillain's Surprise Attack

When Nolan finally awoke from his coma, he was still in a crater on the moon. He blinked blankly and stared at the stains on the roof of the car for a full half minute before realizing that he was lying in the back seat.

Although there were no wounds on his body, his bones still ached as if they had been disassembled and reassembled. Faced with this bizarre scene, only three crystal-clear questions remained in Nolan's mind:

who am I?

Where am i?

What was I doing just now?

Just as Nolan's pupils dilated and he began to question his existence, the voice of the Immortal Knight came from the front row with a hint of helplessness: "Sorry, although it sounds like you're trying to make amends, neither Sissel nor I have ever heard of you from Nolan."

"fine."

Locke gripped the steering wheel, took a sip of half a can of ice-cold beer in his other hand, and spoke casually as if he were talking about the weather.

"If you had heard about it, he wouldn't have gotten beaten up today. And I'm the one who should apologize; I did hit him a bit too hard."

"I understand."

The Immortal sighed, his tone utterly sincere.

"Nolan can really make people explode with anger sometimes, but I can guarantee that he's not a bad person at heart. It's just that the social customs of the Witrum people are different from ours. Actually, he's much better than before."

Upon hearing this, Locke, who was drinking in the driver's seat, almost spat his beer directly onto the windshield.

He choked abruptly, causing the steering wheel to wobble half a turn. He turned his head and looked at the serious-looking Immortal with an extremely complex expression, a mixture of shock, speechlessness, and disbelief. He opened his mouth, but ultimately swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

Oh well, whatever makes you happy. Anyway, Nolan probably won't have the chance to do these things in this universe, since his personality correction fist is no joke.

"Shouldn't we be in outer space? What happened?"

Nolan propped himself up in the back seat, his body still aching. He stared blankly at Locke and the Immortal in the front row, who were talking. He subconsciously touched his face, and the place that should have left obvious injuries was now smooth and flat, without a single scar.

He vividly remembered the battle in outer space; the humiliation he felt was no dream.

The problem is, why can't we find a single injury on his body? That doesn't make sense.

Neither Locke nor the Immortal answered Nolan's question. Instead, with a soft screech of brakes, they brought the car to a steady stop in front of their house.

They've arrived home.

Before entering, Locke tilted his head back and took a sip of ice-cold beer, then crushed the can and threw it into a roadside trash can. He turned around, stood beside Nolan, and commanded in a calm but undeniably authoritative tone, "According to the agreement we reached, I'm in charge of this house now. No matter how many questions you have in your head, swallow them all."

After saying that, Locke turned his head and said to him, word by word, "Did you understand?"

Nolan's brow furrowed instantly, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, and his knuckles cracked.

How dare someone, a mere Earthling, speak to him in such a commanding tone!

He is Nolan! An elite warrior of the Witrum Empire! The great Nolan who once commanded the submission of dozens of civilizations! A figure revered throughout the Witrum Empire!

But before this overwhelming rage could erupt, a conditioned reflex of pain shot through his face, and images of being brutally beaten on the moon instantly flooded his mind.

That deep-seated sense of powerlessness instantly extinguished all his arrogance.

He clenched his teeth, his jaw taut, but ultimately turned his head away in humiliation. At the same time, Locke, not wanting to look at him again, also turned his head to the other side.

You old bastard, just you wait. I have plenty of time. I'll outlive you until you're dead.

Little bastard, just you wait, it's not certain who'll outlast whom.

The two stood back to back, their faces radiating an unpleasant, sullen expression, when suddenly the door was pushed open.

The next second, the two extremely sour faces seamlessly switched at a speed visible to the naked eye, instantly blooming into incredibly kind and gentle smiles. The change of expression was so fast that it didn't even leave an afterimage.

The immortal standing next to him was stunned, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

He had known Nolan for twenty years and had never seen such an amazing face-changing skill. He could hide it!

"Hi! Dad! Honey!"

Debbie laughed and opened her arms, rushing between the two of them. Locke and Nolan reached out to catch her almost simultaneously, their movements so synchronized as if they had rehearsed it a thousand times, their smiles so bright they could blind anyone.

But within two seconds, Debbie frowned, suspiciously scanning their faces, her nose twitching slightly: "You two—are you alright? Why do I smell a faint scent of blood?"

Nolan immediately shook his head, smiling sincerely: "Of course nothing's wrong, what could possibly happen to us?"

Locke nodded in agreement, his tone unusually "sincere": "I'm very close to him. He's a great philanthropist in Witrum, the best person in the entire universe."

To make their argument more convincing, the two stiffly extended their arms and hooked their arms around each other's shoulders, striking a pose of close, buddy-buddy. However, the smiles on their lips betrayed a hint of gritted teeth, and their hands on each other's shoulders were subtly straining, their knuckles turning white from clenching.

The immortal warrior standing next to him was so shocked his jaw almost dropped to the ground, his mouth agape wide enough to fit an egg. He had lived for thousands of years and seen countless extraordinary people and events, but this was the first time he had been so stunned by the acting of two grown men that he was speechless.

"Oh, okay." Debbie breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the two of them with satisfaction. "I'm so glad you two get along so well. To be honest, I was worried about you the whole time."

As soon as she finished speaking, she caught sight of the Immortal Knight still standing at the door out of the corner of her eye, and she froze for half a second.

She was completely immersed in the beautiful scene of "fatherly love and son-in-law filial piety" and didn't even notice the big third wheel who had been watching the whole time.

"Hi! Immortal Warrior, long time no see! Would you like to come in and have a seat?"

As someone who has lived from the primitive era to the present, the Immortal Knight was incredibly insightful. He cleared his throat and very tactfully took the initiative to speak, deliberately avoiding looking at the two people who were still stiffly clasped shoulders: "It's nothing. I just happened to be passing by and was passing on a message for Cecil. He said I could ask him for help with the identity issue later. I have a mission to complete, so I'll take my leave now."

After saying that, Immortal glanced at Locke and then flew away. Debbie breathed a sigh of relief when she saw this, but then she realized what was happening and looked at the two of them with a suspicious expression.

"Wait, how does Cecilia know about you? What did you two just do?"

"So you really can't tell me anything about the future? Please, just a little bit, even just one thing would be fine!"

In the boys' restroom at Reginald Will Jensen High School, Mark leaned against the frosted glass window, swinging his dangling legs, pleading desperately with the black figure floating in mid-air outside the window.

The wind blew in through the open window, ruffling the hem of Old Ma's dark blue uniform, and also carrying the faint sound of the school bell ringing in the corridor.

Looking at his younger self with clear eyes and a youthful spirit, Old Ma from the future felt completely overwhelmed and had no idea what to do.

"Don't force me," he sighed, his voice full of exhaustion and helplessness. "Don't make me regret disobeying Grandpa Locke's request to tell you the truth. There are many things I can't say, not because I don't want to."

He earnestly advised his younger self, trying to explain those heavy stakes in a simpler way: "Although Grandpa Locke found a parallel world that is almost exactly the same as our original universe, it does not mean that the future will completely overlap."

Do you understand the butterfly effect? ​​Our very existence has already changed too many things. For the sake of spacetime stability—or was it continuity again? Damn, I forgot the word. Anyway, for your safety, for the safety of this world, we cannot create any more variables.

Mark tilted his head, his eyes full of confusion. He was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, "If that's the case, why don't you find a world where I've already died in an accident? That way you could just replace me and wouldn't have to change anything, right?"

One sentence froze Old Ma in place. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word. All the rebuttals he had prepared were left unsaid.

This question, which he had never considered before, struck him like a thunderbolt.

Yes.

Why not?

Grandpa Locke clearly had the ability to find any parallel universe, and he clearly had a simpler, less error-prone method.

Why did he insist on bringing himself into this world where "Mark is still alive"?

A chilling sensation crept up my spine and up to the top of my head.

After losing all his relatives and friends in his original world, Grandpa Locke became his only support in this world, his last pillar of strength. He had an almost blind trust in this grandfather who had single-handedly pulled him out of the ruins.

But it wasn't until this moment that he suddenly woke up – ever since that day, when Grandpa Locke suddenly said with red eyes, "Our world is beyond saving," and then took him through countless parallel universes, Grandpa Locke had already changed.

He became increasingly paranoid, increasingly insane, and increasingly fond of drinking.

Grandpa Locke —

How many things was Grandpa Locke, who was all-powerful and always sheltered him from the wind and rain, hiding from him?

Seeing that Old Ma stood frozen in place without saying a word, Little Ma wisely shut his mouth as well. His fingertips unconsciously picked at the windowsill, and he wondered to himself if he had gone too far with his questions. Maybe his grandfather really had some unspeakable secret, and he wondered if his words had hurt him.

But just then, a faint humming sound came from the tiled floor. The next second, the entire school building began to shake violently, the chandeliers clattered against the ceiling, and books and stationery tumbled off the desks.

Caught off guard, the little horse slipped and fell heavily to the ground.

Old Ma's pupils suddenly contracted, and his entire body tensed up instantly. He clearly remembered that in this timeline, there had been no earthquake records in the city for the past two years.

His question lasted less than three seconds.

A metallic roar pierced through the walls of the teaching building and exploded across the entire campus: "Invincible Young Hero! Where are you! Invincible Young Hero! Get out here!"

This name, which was supposed to appear for the first time in ten days or so, struck Old Ma's heart like a heavy hammer.

Without saying a word, he instantly broke through the window and flew high into the sky above the school, his eyes fixed on the familiar figure in the red and white jacket in the center of the playground.

"Earthquake Doctor???"

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