"Hey, buddy, wake up! Fucking hell, do you know whose turf this is? If you wanna die, do it after you get the hell out, or I'll fucking kill you!"
In a daze, Nalant felt someone shaking him again and again.
"Where am I?" In his muddled haze, Nalant discovered that the person shaking him was actually a big Black guy dressed in a hip-hop outfit, a thick gold chain hanging around his neck, his baseball cap worn backward.
For a moment, that left him rather confused. Hadn't he gone off to save the world before this?
How had a big Black guy in modern clothes appeared?
"Of course you're on the West Coast, buddy. I'm warning you one last time. Don't think you can take over my tent just because you fell from upstairs and you're butt naked. Sure, I snatched it from those yellow monkeys, but I'm telling you..."
"Ah, ow, ow, ow, buddy, that hurts! Please let go of me!" Before the big Black guy could finish speaking, Allen seized his wrist.
At once, the burly, rough fellow howled in pain again and again.
"Say that to me again. Where am I right now?" Nalant was stunned.
"Ah! Buddy, you're on the West Coast of America, in the Mailin District. It's 2025 right now. Ow, ow, ow, please let go! I know I was wrong. If you keep squeezing, you're going to crush my bones, damn it!"
"I actually came back. But why did I end up in America? Wait..."
Nalant looked toward a puddle of standing water nearby and discovered that he still had Nalant's face.
In other words, although he had returned, it was not his soul that had come back, but Nalant's body itself.
"Right, then what about my divine power now?"
With a