The Legendary Fool - Chapter 3: Analyse

After being abandoned by her long time boyfriend on their wedding day, Rachael lost all her faith in love and relationships. But that changed when she met Andrew again.

With no hope of finding love again in her life, Rachael agreed to marry her father's best friend's son, Andrew Collins. But little did she know fate had different plans for her.

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Excerpt:

Holding his drunk wife in his arms, Andrew kicked the bedroom door open.

When he placed her in the bed, Rachael slowly opened her eyes. “Are we home?”

“Yes.” Taking her heels off, he covered her with the quilt. “I'll get you some warm water.” But before he could get up, she grabbed his hand.

“What happened? Do you want something else?”

Kicking the quilt off, she crawled in his lap. Placing one hand on his cheek and the other at the back of his neck, she inched closer. “Andrew—”

“Hmm?”

“I think I am falling for you, what should I do?”

William and his college class are ripped from Earth and thrown into Aethel, a world on the brink of collapse. Everyone gains incredible magical powers – except William. Mocked and underestimated, he’s an outcast among heroes. But William has a secret: an SSS-ranked skill that lets him travel to Aethel’s past. Learning lost magic from ancient masters, he’ll surpass his classmates and become the true savior Aethel needs. But can he overcome the dangers of the past and present to forge his own destiny? While others studied about the first mage, William could go back in time and see the first mage himself! While others dreamed of seeing a dragon, William could go back in time, hatch a legendary dragon egg and turn it into his puppy. While others used common materials to craft their items, William could go back in time and mine materials that weren’t find anywhere in Aethel anymore. Is it unfair? Perhaps, but William was not the type of person to not use the powers the universe gave him.

“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.

“The Second Cult Leader and the Prophet of the Voodooists died during the Holy War seven years ago.”

Florence Academy was a prestigious clergy academy.

“Now that the Voodooists are considered as a cult, who is the Third Cult Leader, where are they now, and what are they up to?”

Only I knew the answer to this question.

The Third Cult Leader was a freshman at Florence Academy. He was here, standing amongst the others in the auditorium.

How do I know this, you ask?

Because I’m the Cult Leader.

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