Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

Chapter 158 The Morty-Transformed Pony and the Superhuman Old Horse

Early in the morning, at the Grayson family's dining table, Debbie looked at her son with some concern, wondering if he was too excited and hadn't slept all night.

At this moment, his eyes were bloodshot as he fiddled with the scrambled eggs with a fork. Then, he unconsciously recalled fragments of red and white organs that resembled scrambled eggs. He then covered his mouth and ran to the toilet to release the pressure.

Nolan and Debbie exchanged a glance, realizing that Mark's behavior had been very abnormal ever since he awakened yesterday.

Debbie: "Were you so excited about taking him to training that you couldn't sleep all night, and the pressure was too much?"

Nolan: "It shouldn't be that bad. Actually, I think Mark is quite talented. He learned to fly yesterday without any instruction, which is quite incredible when I think about it now."

As Nolan spoke, he remembered his mission and glanced sideways at Locke, who was currently struggling with the wine in the flask.

Legendary trainer Debbie followed Nolan's gaze, frowned slightly, and called out to him in a soft voice.

"dad?"

Locke nearly smashed the metal flask in his hand onto the table with a loud crash.

He swallowed the remaining half mouthful of wine at a speed visible to the naked eye, quickly stuffed the wine jug under the tablecloth, and the nonchalant indifference on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a forced, almost benevolent smile. He then picked up a fork, speared a piece of scrambled egg, and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Oh Debbie, my good girl, look at these fried eggs and bacon you made. It's the best breakfast in the world. I wish Oliver (Debbie's father) and the others could have some."

Debbie looked at the steaming breakfast on the table, and then at the man in front of her who was trying so hard to be a good father, and her eyes welled up with tears.

She gently placed her hands on her chest, a genuine smile on her face, her voice slightly choked with emotion: "Oh, Dad, I'm so touched that you said that."

Locke secretly breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he had perfectly gotten away with it.

Just as he was about to fork up his second piece of bacon, Debbie abruptly changed the subject, her tone still gentle but carrying an undeniable, penetrating force: "So, are you drinking heavily right now?"

In an instant, Locke's smile vanished. Nolan, sitting opposite him, witnessed the whole thing and couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth involuntarily turn up.

Unexpectedly, Debbie's gaze precisely shifted from Locke and landed lightly on him.

She didn't say anything, but simply put down her fork, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and then quietly looked at him.

Nolan's smile froze instantly.

The corner of her mouth, which had just parted into a smile, abruptly pulled back even faster than before, and even shrugged down, adopting a "I didn't laugh at anything, I'm very serious" expression. "Someone seems to have been acting strange since last night, like they've been hiding something from me. Darling, what do you think?"

As he finished speaking, a smile appeared on Locke's lips.

When Mark returned from the bathroom, he found that Nolan and Locke were gone, and only Debbie was sitting at the dining table with Locke's wine jug beside her.

"Mom, where are Dad and Grandpa?" Mark pulled out a chair and sat down, trying to pick up a slice of toast and put it in his mouth, but then gave up in frustration.

"Your dad," Debbie put down her glass and pointed to the door, "received a call from Cecilia and rushed out, saying he had an urgent mission and would be back tonight to train you. As for your grandpa," she glanced in the direction of the garage, her tone tinged with helplessness, "he hid in the garage, saying he was going to do maintenance on his old, beat-up car."

She paused, then looked at Mark: "I'm going to work at the supermarket this afternoon. You and your grandpa go buy some daily necessities. The list is on the refrigerator."

Mark: "Huh? But I have to go to school today!"

Debbie raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a "Are you out of your mind?" expression: "Didn't the school collapse yesterday because of Dr. Earthquake? And you were the one who personally pinned him to the ground and pulled him out, forgot?"

Mark paused for three seconds before belatedly recalling the chaotic battle from the previous day.

He scratched his head and chuckled dryly, "Ah—right, look at my brain."

Debbie looked him up and down suspiciously, her brows furrowing slightly. "What's wrong with the three of you today? You all seem so distracted, like you've done something wrong."

"No, no!" Mark quickly waved his hand, laughed it off, and ran to the garage.

Pushing open the garage door, a strong smell of engine oil and metal hit me.

Locke was lying on the hood of the rusty old car. Before Mark could even see what he was doing, Locke closed the hood again.

"What are you doing?"

"I was repairing a battery. I created a micro-universe, accelerated the flow of time, and allowed this universe to naturally evolve intelligent life. When I gave them electricity, I used 80% of it to power my car."

mark:"????"

Mark: "Wait, you mean you created a universe, changed an entire civilization, just to generate electricity for your car???"

Locke pulled out a flask from his pocket, looking at Mark's incredulous expression with some surprise.

"I never expected you to understand completely. I thought I'd have to explain it all over again!"

Mark: "I'm just a high school student, not an idiot!"

Locke: "Really? I'm not so sure."

Mark: "Not sure about what? I'm a high school student?"

Upon hearing this, Locke wore an extremely tense expression, staring at Mark for a long while before saying:

Locke: "Okay, now I'm sure."

Mark scratched his head, completely bewildered by Locke's words. It took him a while to realize he had made a fool of himself. He turned his head away, shrugged, and began to change the subject.

"Hey! I'm talking about how you enslave an entire planet!"

Faced with Mark's questioning, Locke calmly got into the driver's seat, not taking it to heart at all. He simply gestured for Mark to get in the car. When Mark saw that Locke did not answer, he remembered what he had seen yesterday and began to sulk with his arms crossed.

Locke looked at Mark, who was throwing a tantrum like a child, sighed, and compromised, "Okay, okay, actually I was just kidding you. I actually used a miniature nuclear reactor that I took from a billionaire's armor. What I said earlier was just to tease you."

mark:"???"

For a moment, Mark didn't know whether to blame Locke for lying to him or to be glad it wasn't true. He just felt like Grandpa Locke, who had ordered takeout for him and let him play games yesterday, no longer existed.

Looking annoyed, Mark got into the passenger seat, fastened his seatbelt, took another swig of his drink, opened the garage door, and drove off in the old car.

Mark: "You can't drink and drive."

Locke: "Good idea, but I don't accept it. Jarvis, activate autopilot."

Jarvis: "Autopilot is activated. Please provide the coordinates of the destination."

Mark: "Go—I forgot what it's called, but my mom put it on the list."

Locke: "And the list?"

Mark: "It looks like it's still stuck on the fridge, I forgot to take it."

Locke: (。—。)

Mark: (°—\1)

Locke: "Jarvis, turn around."

Inside the underground garage, Old Ma, who had been asleep all day, woke up on the sofa. In front of him were a pile of loose change, a pair of glasses, and a note.

"These are psychological suggestion glasses. Once you put them on, no one will notice your true identity. Mind your own business today. The money is on the table. Go out through the sewer."

After reading the note Locke wrote, Old Ma realized that they had returned from the parallel world. He breathed a sigh of relief, but couldn't help but wonder how Emperor Mark in the parallel universe was doing.

After changing into Pony's casual clothes, Pony put on his glasses and flew toward the sewer outlet Locke had mentioned, completely unaware that a device was flashing a red light not far away.

"Damn! It stinks!"

After enduring a long period of olfactory torment, Mark finally pinched his nose and flew out of the sewer.

Mark leaned against the wall and dry heaved for a while, his face still bearing traces of blood that hadn't been wiped clean.

"Damn it, I need to find a place to take a shower first."

He looked up at the street.

Golden morning light filtered through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, casting dappled shadows on the asphalt road. A girl with a high ponytail stood nearby.

I was jogging in the morning wearing headphones, and my hair bounced lightly with each step.

An elderly man with white hair walked slowly with his golden retriever. The dog would stop from time to time, wagging its tail and sniffing the daisies by the roadside.

The bakery on the street corner opened its doors, and the aroma of freshly baked croissants mingled with the smell of hot coffee wafted over. A boy on a bicycle rang his bell, the crisp sound echoing through the entire street.

All of this is just a scene from an ordinary daily life, yet it appears so vivid, warm, and full of life.

Mark was somewhat lost in thought.

He thought he had long since grown accustomed to the perpetually gray skies of that world, and to the only sounds on the streets being the noisy roar of Rex's lifeless patrol mechs and the screech of the disinfection trucks.

And right now, nothing has happened here yet.

There were no devastating earthquakes, no global viruses, and no ruins littered with corpses.

People worry about what to eat for breakfast, feel helpless when their dogs destroy the house, and run and laugh in the morning sunlight. These everyday things that he once thought he could only see in his dreams are now unfolding before his eyes, within reach.

Even the massacre that Dad caused hasn't happened yet; there's still time.

At that moment, the wind brushed against his cheeks; there was no pungent smell of disinfectant, nor the cold stench of blood, only the aroma of grass and bread.

Mark clenched his fists, his fingertips trembling slightly. He took a deep breath, suppressing the bitterness welling up in his eyes.

Everything is still in time.

Just as Mark was feeling happy about everything before him, the old lady next to him, who was holding a golden retriever, subconsciously sniffed and her brows furrowed instantly.

She glanced at Mark up and down without saying a word. His hair was a mess, his face was covered in dark red bloodstains that hadn't been wiped off, and the corners of his eyes were flushed with an unnatural redness from gagging. He also reeked of a pungent stench of sewer sludge mixed with gunpowder—he looked exactly like a homeless man who had just taken drugs and was incoherent.

The old lady quickly gripped the leash, took three big steps to the side, pulled the golden retriever behind her, and her eyes were full of "don't come any closer" vigilance.

Even the golden retriever that was wagging its tail came over to sniff Mark, then sneezed in disgust and turned away to hide next to the old lady's legs.

Mark's smile froze instantly, and he also heard the old lady's mutterings.

"Damn it, these homeless people are getting bolder and bolder, daring to come here. I'm definitely going to complain to the community when I get back. How can they let just any Tom, Dick, or Harry in?"

When Mark heard every single word of those words, all the emotion and relief he had felt earlier vanished in an instant, leaving only a mind filled with utter despair.

Never mind, I'll go change my clothes.

In a large warehouse supermarket on the outskirts of the city, the sound of shopping cart wheels rolling over the ground mingled with light music playing on the radio. The grandfather and grandson parted ways as soon as they entered, agreeing to meet again in half an hour.

Half an hour later, Mark found Locke near the checkout counter, pushing a cart half full of daily necessities he had bought according to the list.

The moment Mark saw the scene before him, he almost dropped the handle of the shopping cart in his hand. He froze on the spot, staring at the three large shopping carts in front of Locke, and fell into a long silence for half a minute.

The first truck was completely packed with liquor, from affordable bourbon and high-proof vodka to top-tier single malt whiskey. The glass bottles were stacked neatly, higher than Locke himself, and even a few cans of ice-cold beer were stuffed into the gaps between the trucks.

The second truck was full of bottles and jars with professional chemical labels, containing analytical grade anhydrous ethanol, concentrated sulfuric acid, and various organic reagents.

The third truck was even more outrageous, half full of strong liquor and half full of chemical reagents, with a few bags of potato chips and a windproof lighter crammed into the gaps, a completely haphazard mix.

Mark rubbed his forehead, his lips twitching uncontrollably. He wanted to ask his grandfather if he was deliberately making fun of him, but the words caught in his throat. He changed his mind and said, "Grandpa Locke, this whole truckload of stuff... I think I've only ever seen it in Breaking Bad. Are you going to become a chemistry teacher and sell drugs?"

"My God, what are you guys being taught at school? Don't worry about scientists' stuff."

"Alright then, but Grandpa Locke, I remember Mom said you weren't allowed to drink anymore."

Ignoring Mark's reminder, Locke shook the metal flask in his hand and took another big gulp. The amber liquid slid down his chin and into his collar, but he didn't care.

Mark, on the contrary, felt insecure because of Grandpa Locke's confident demeanor. He wondered if he had misheard. Hadn't his mother said something? Otherwise, why would Grandpa Locke be so nonchalant and completely unconcerned?

Locke wiped the wine stains from the corner of his mouth, let out a burp with the aroma of whiskey, his eyes half-closed, yet revealing a kind of all-knowing, almost cruel, clarity.

"Young man," he tapped Mark's chest with his flask, his tongue slightly slurred but his logic remarkably clear, "you must understand a fundamental universal truth—this world is fundamentally meaningless."

He tilted his head back and took another gulp, gazing at the blue sky above, his tone as light as if he were talking about something insignificant: "We are nothing more than carbon-based foam that pops up by chance and can self-replicate, according to the second law of thermodynamics."

The kinship, friendship, and so-called family that you hold in your hands now will not even leave behind fossils in five hundred years.

Five thousand years from now, all traces of human civilization will be worn away by geological movements and turned into sand.

Five billion years from now, the sun will become a red giant and swallow the entire Earth whole.

By then, everything you cared about won't even amount to anything; it never left a single mark on the universe's ledger.

Stunned by Locke's words, Mark was unsure whether to care about the meaning of his life or Locke's alcoholism.

Of course, he didn't realize until he got home that night that he had just been tricked by Locke, who simply wanted to change the matter.

"so?"

"So don't let those trivial things affect us. Live in the moment, baby. Do what you're supposed to do. Just like you like Eve, if you like her, go for it, who cares if she has a boyfriend or not."

After saying that, Locke put his arm around Mark, raised the wine jug high, and acted like a drunkard, which made Mark very uncomfortable, giving him the feeling of being with Emperor Mark yesterday.

Does growing up mean you have to have two faces? That's too dark.

However, a deafening explosion shattered Mark's thoughts, followed by screams from the crowd at the other end of the supermarket. Mark and Locke looked up at the same time and saw an elephant-man rampaging through the crowd.

"An elephant monster? No way."

Mark instinctively stepped back, but when he thought about everything that had happened yesterday, a surge of courage welled up inside him, and he looked at Locke.

Seeing his grandson's expectant look, Locke resignedly covered his face and sighed.

Just when Mark thought that his grandfather was finally going to put away his carefree attitude and deal with the little villain who was smashing and looting in the supermarket.

After all, we were just talking to him about the emptiness of the universe and living for the moment, so we can't just stand by and watch him die, can we?

The next second, Locke suddenly pushed the shopping cart and turned around to run wildly in the opposite direction of the parking lot.

"Quick! Mark! These things are free! Hurry up and load them into the car!" he shouted as he ran, the flask still dangling from his waist, his movements as practiced as if he'd done it eight hundred times.

Mark froze on the spot, his mind blank.

The last shred of positive feelings I had for this grandfather shattered completely with a "crack".

Realizing what was happening, he lunged forward, grabbed Locke by the back of his newly bought white lab coat, and yanked him back, practically yelling, "Locke! Stop playing around! Stop him!"

Locke, who was being held back, immediately gave up resisting and raised his hands in surrender.

He pulled out his modified Omnitri from his pocket, casually snapped it across his chest, and with a "click," it transformed into a black crossbody belt. He muttered complaints under his breath: "Fine, fine, I'll go. I told you I can't handle kids. Couldn't some street hero have just taken care of these small fry? Why bother an old man like me?"

Seriously, Mark, as someone who's practically half Witrum, your sense of morality is ridiculously strong.

"Hurry up!!!" Mark urged through gritted teeth, instantly feeling utterly exhausted.

Locke rolled his eyes, reluctantly pressed the core button that slowly rose in the center of his belt, and said, "God, I'll grant your wish this time, but you have to fulfill one condition for me in the next few days, and you have no reason to refuse."

As soon as the words were spoken, a blinding white light suddenly burst forth.

After the light faded, a blue, humanoid moth over two meters tall stood in the spot. [Energy Device Transformation Form: Ice Ghost (Nakfurgex Alien)]

Locke, now in phantom form, ignored the obstruction and flew toward the elephant man. Aside from causing some destruction along the way, this guy caused no casualties whatsoever, making him a purely comedic character.

If I remember correctly, he seems to be the regular practice partner for superheroes. When superheroes debut, they either fight him or Kill Cannon. He's a true workhorse.

After effortlessly freezing the elephant-man from head to toe, Locke looked at the still struggling head and couldn't help but complain, "Dude, I suggest you open a social media account and become an influencer. You can be a punching bag for debuting superheroes, and then rate them. Find a packaging team that can make it effective. If you can't even do that, you might as well join a factory. What a coincidence that I joined the factory!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Locke glanced around and saw that more than a dozen cell phones had been raised, their flashes going off one after another.

He frowned instantly and clicked his tongue. Compared to fighting villains, being posted online as a "blue moth internet celebrity" was the real trouble.

Before anyone could react, a semi-transparent white mist rose around him, and he instantly transformed into a ghostly form. With a thud, he silently disappeared into the concrete ground without leaving a ripple.

Just ten seconds later, a cold hand suddenly patted Mark on the shoulder.

Mark was startled and turned around to see Locke had turned back into a human and was patting the Omnitri belt on his chest.

"Let's go! Let's go!" He grabbed the handles of two shopping carts, hooked his foot around the back wheel of a third one, and sped towards the parking lot without looking back. "If I dawdle any longer, the cashier will chase after me to collect the money!"

He pushed three overflowing shopping carts at breakneck speed, the wheels almost sparking.

Mark watched his departing figure, let out a long sigh, and the last shred of his fantasy about "Grandpa Superhero" vanished completely.

He resignedly pulled out Nolan's credit card from his pocket, glanced at it, then put it back, and followed with the remaining half of the cartload of stuff. Meanwhile, outside the Federal Bank in the city center.

After a deafening roar, the Killing Cannon, covered in heavy red and black armor, was thrown out of the bank lobby like a tattered sack, sliding more than ten meters across the asphalt road, leaving a trail of blinding sparks.

Before he could even regain his footing, the heavy energy cannon, as thick as a bowl, in his left hand had already turned around and fired three shots in quick succession at the billowing smoke rising from the bank entrance.

The crimson energy blast exploded, sending shards of rock and glass flying everywhere.

Before the smoke had even cleared, a figure strolled out leisurely.

Old Ma had just changed his clothes at the clothing store next door. He patted the dust off his shoulders, looked at his old rival, and a nostalgic, ambiguous smile appeared on his lips.

"Hey buddy, long time no see." He put his hands in his pockets, his tone as casual as if he'd bumped into an old friend on a street corner. "You have no idea how much I've missed you."

"I don't even know you!!!"

"Okay, it was definitely my fault."

Old Ma shrugged, his face showing no tension whatsoever, even a hint of nostalgia, as if a max-level expert had returned to the new village, this time transforming into everyone at Dayun Creative Thinking.

"But I'm in a rare good mood today, so I'll give you a discount. Put your hands behind your head, squat down, and wait for the police to take you back to jail. That way, I won't get my new clothes dirty, and you'll avoid a beating. How about it?"

His response was yet another cannon shot, fully charged.

"dream!!!"

Five minutes later.

When Atomic Woman and Eve arrived at the scene, they only saw a chaotic bank entrance and a fleeting killing cannon.

Old Ma was holding the cannon by the back of its collar, handing it over to the arriving police like a chick.

His white clothes remained spotless, and not a single hair was out of place.

The moment he saw Eve, his eyes lit up, and he immediately waved, a bright smile spreading across his face: "Eve! Long time no see!"

"Um, do we know each other?"

Only then did Old Ma realize he was wearing the disguise glasses his grandfather had given him. After stammering for a while, he finally came up with an explanation: "I... I'm your fan. After all, you guys are the second most popular superhero group, aren't you?"

"Oh, of course, but judging from the looks of it, you were the one who took down the Killing Cannon. Do you have superpowers too? Have you ever thought about becoming a hero?"

Eve looked at the scene, judged the opponent, and quickly dealt with the killing cannon without causing him much damage, so she had the idea of ​​recruiting him.

Of course, the main reason is that, for some reason, I subconsciously feel that the other person is very reliable.

Faced with Eve's request, Old Ma seemed quite hesitant, but after a moment he touched his nose and replied, "Of course, but—I might not have much free time."

"Oh, really? That's a shame. But do you have a code name? After all, we don't even know your name yet. Don't worry about keeping your identity a secret; we have people specifically helping you conceal it."

Faced with Eve's question, Old Ma remained silent for a moment, then recalled the story of the Kryptonian that Grandpa Locke had once told him, and said, "Of course, you can call me Superman."

While the warm daily life on Earth was gradually unfolding, on a distant planet called Witrum, Admiral Craig was gazing out of the window at Witrum, puzzled by the memories that were appearing in his mind.

After much deliberation, he decided to send an envoy to Earth to investigate the situation and urge the great Nolan to complete his mission.

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