My Foolish Husband Turned Out to Have a Hidden Identity Too - Chapter 310 - 311 Academy Assessment (1)

The Ring of Magic had shattered.Calamities emerged.Lind, who had crossed over to become a wild monster NPC at a stronghold in the apocalyptic Magic World, saw a group of undead shouting “Pass the flame” arrive at his territory. They held lofty ideals and were willing to sacrifice themselves to save the world.Therefore, Lind prepared to masquerade as the village chief of Newbie Village.Lind: As a remnant of the old era, I will craft a ship that can carry us to the new era.Player: After enduring endless hardships, we finally met the BOSS, and then the BOSS just knelt down and swore fealty to the lord....“I, the King of Game BOSSes, Just Want to Be a Good Newbie Village Chief”“Player: Every NPC on Our Side is as Strong as a BOSS”“Player: That BOSS Actually Can't Beat the Quest NPC We're Supposed to Protect?”Tags: Lord, Farming, Kindombuilding, Fantasy, Fourth Apocalypse

Born into darkness, Lucius is marked by an infernal curse—the Mark of the Abyss. This unholy sigil endows him with powers that defy mortal comprehension, yet seals his fate: servitude, rejection, and a grim demise.Embark on a journey with Lucius as he unravels the hidden truth behind the Marks, battles to carve out a destiny of his own, and strikes back against the cruel fate imposed upon him.In a world that shuns him for his cursed existence, Lucius will forge unlikely alliances to challenge those who scorn him. He is driven by a relentless desire to claim a place for himself and his loved ones, no matter the cost.Prepared to plunge into the darkest depths of depravity, Lucius is poised on the brink of a harrowing journey. The ultimate enigma remains: what awaits him in the abyss of his ambitions?

The “S-rank Hero Factory” that raised 1,000 S-rank heroes.

The graduates’ manufacturing machine.

The strongest support.

These are all words that refer to me. But could this actually be the world of that game?

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.