Love Affairs in Melbourne - Chapter 186 - 183: Banquet (3)

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.

In the early days of the virtual reality game, Arena, meleegod was the strongest ranked player! He deleted his character and suddenly left. In order to restore his bankrupt family, he returned to Arena!

“Do you want to create a character?”

A wise man once said all roads lead to Rome. He didn’t know how right he was.Ripped away from the battlefield, Tiberius and his six thousand Roman Legionnaires unexpectedly find themselves stranded in a foreign land of magic and witchcraft. With no way home, their path forward is obvious: conquer everything in sight.Much to the chagrin of Marcus—the poor, unsuspecting bard who summoned them.But taking over the world is not so easy. In order to stake their claim, the Legion will need to learn how to navigate the strange magics and abilities this new world has granted them. Abilities which, upon closer inspection, may prove the seed for a legend in the making…The dawn of a new empire looms on the horizon. Rome will rise anew as they seize cities, battle armies, and expand their territory across this strange and fantastical world. All the while, Marcus will need to figure out how to mitigate the force of nature he's unleashed upon his woefully unprepared world. That, or simply enjoy the front row seat to an epic in the making. Someone will need to tell the story, and who better aside from him?The die has been cast. The aqueducts are being built. And Rome will once more see glory.

“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.