SOS_2506

Luke Freeman, the genius of the century, just got out of prison, after being falsely imprisoned there for two years for the murder of his guardian.
When he got out, he was assigned a therapist by his best friend.
He doesn't like his therapist, Tim. He always tries to get involved in his personal life, and there is no escaping their weekly session together.
Unfortunately, for him though, a laboratory accident lands him and his therapist a thousand and five hundred years in the past, but the worst part is that they aren't in their sixteenth century, the sixteenth century of a different dimension.
Fortunately, Luke's guardian who is supposed to be dead is here as well... But he is here ruling as an evil king, who is slowly turning this dimension into what is his definition of the perfect world. That's not good.
Now, Luke, Tim, and a group of people from this world are on a mission to stop the evil ruler from his mission.
However, this might be a fun adventure for Luke and Tim.
"Ugh, I wish I had a full glass of ninety-eight percent alcohol in my system," Luke commented boredly.
"But that would kill you," Time replies.
Luke rolls his eyes. "That is the f**king point, roach."
Or maybe not...

Freeman (BL)

Luke kindly asked Han to remove his collar, but Han refused by saying, "I don't think it is a good idea... What if the guards come here again?"

"Then let them," Luke replied nonchalantly and tossed the knife to Han. "I trust you won't 'mistakenly' cut me with this, right?" he asked.

Han squinted his eyes at him and Luke knelt and raised his head for him to see what he was doing.

Once the gemstone popped off the collar fell to the ground and Luke felt a rush of magic in his veins.

His wounds began to automatically heal and he felt lighter.

His eyes were red and his aura covered him. He picks up the gemstone and feels his magic being drained almost immediately.

"Quite useful," he muttered and tore off a piece of clothing from his shirt and then snapped his fingers, cleaning himself up and changing his clothes to something more comfortable than a torn-up rag covered in dried-up sweat and blood.

Chapter 91