I was reborn as a "lamb waiting for slaughter" in the dark orphanage's human-trafficking pipeline.
Other people's golden fingers: an old grandpa, a System, invincible techniques.
My golden fingers: a foul-mouthed magic mushroom and an asocial void stalker hatchling.
The magic mushroom's daily routine: "Boss! Digging is so boring! Can we have a midnight snack? Otherwise, I'll die right in front of you!"
The puffball's daily routine: rumbling with hunger and trying to nibble on rocks.
Other people's predicaments: surrounded by powerful enemies, with death a hair's breadth away.
My predicament: I have to dodge the white-lotus-turned-black nun's "live dissection package," prevent my useless teammate Lilian from "backstabbing me into brain damage," and soothe the mushroom and puffball at home, who could break into a comedy routine at any moment.
Then I discovered that my soul was full of holes.
And so my daily routine became:
Daytime: Dig furiously under the nun's watchful eye, while actually training my mental strength.
Nighttime: Sneak into the legacy left behind by "the most obsessive-compulsive alchemist in history" (a stud earring that doubles as a "studio apartment"), endure the magic mushroom's endless chatter, and study How to Elegantly Tear Down Your House with Fragments of Spatial Rules.
Now the nun thinks I'm a "high-risk experimental subject," a goblin merchant wants to "appraise and auction me off," and my yandere teammate wants to "sacrifice me to the heavens."
I looked down at my feet. The mushroom was yelling that it was hungry, and the puffball was chewing on my shoe.
Fine, I'll come clean. No more pretending.
It's time to show these people what a "dimension-reducing strike with built-in commentary" looks like!
Theme: Nothing matters more than staying alive.
