The God Virus - Chapter 384 - Millions of Tragedy, Tragedy of Millions

Hello, I'd like to ask your opinion on “Yukima Azuma”Kasumigaoka Utaha: I was here before... I taught him the things that couples do, but he used them to please other girlsSawamura Eriri: It would be better if I wasn't a tsundere, saying one thing and doing anotherYukinoshita Yukino: He's the light in my life, I might not have been able to bear the darkness if I hadn't met himYukinoshita Haruno: The bastard who ran away after sleeping with meHoshino Ai: My only true love, my white moonlightWhat's your relationship with him - ex-girlfriendSora Ginko: Oh, just a thieving catKato Megumi: Just a thieving catSagiri, Bocchi, Shinomiya Kaguya, Kirisu Mafuyu, Suou Yuki, Alya: A thieving cat!--------------------------------I do not own anything in this fanfiction----------------------------------The schedule is from Monday to Saturday 2 chapters a day and 1 on Sunday----------------------------------------English is TOTALLY NOT my language,So it's probably not very good, but I tried my best

Bestselling author Elias Vayne has spent years writing stories to escape the horrors of his past. As a child, he was the sole survivor of a massacre that wiped out his entire orphanage. He doesn’t remember how he survived—only that when the slaughter ended, he was the only one left standing.His latest work, The Arcane Academy Chronicles, takes place in Veylin Academy, a prestigious school of magic and combat. But one night, after finishing the final chapter, Elias wakes up inside his own book—not as the hero, not as the villain, but as an extra. Worse, he’s been reborn as Kael, the very same orphan who survived a similar massacre in the story.But something is wrong. The academy isn’t as he wrote it. Characters are acting off-script, unknown forces are rewriting events, and the mystery surrounding Kael’s survival mirrors the one in Elias’s real life. The more he tries to regain control of the narrative, the more he realizes this world may not be his creation at all.

The narrative follows a gamer who, after selecting the “Awakened Cinder” class in the game Fractured Dawn, finds himself transported into the game's world. However, this version of the game is devoid of its usual interfaces—no UI, no tutorials, and no second chances. Each death strips away a part of his memories and identity, immersing him deeper into a perilous reality.The protagonist, now known as Riven, must navigate the treacherous Witherlands, confronting formidable foes like the Gravemare and Dreamborn Horrors, while uncovering the mysteries of Emberlight, Grace, and Cindershrines. His journey is one of survival, self-discovery, and challenging the very fabric of this fractured world.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.