Triple Blessings: Mr. Fu’s Passionate Pursuit - Chapter 25 - 22 She’s not my mom, she’s a devil!

“Are you my knight?” The silver-haired youth looked at the blonde girl before him and asked, his cheeks flushed red. This was their first encounter when he was only ten years of age.

“Are you my bride?” He held her in his arms, embraced the girl who had accompanied him for ten years straight. He was sixteen years of age.

“Are you my king?” He knelt before the throne, smiling foolishly as he looked at the girl holding the sword victoriously. At this moment, he looked like the boy he was when they first met.

“I’m fine without having eyes for you. The entirety of Camelot is for your taking.” Smiling soft and gently, he gave his eyes to the girl who lost her eyes due to the curse of the red dragon. He doesn’t regret it, he thinks. He was twenty years of age.

“So… Arthur… Artoria Pendragon, are you willing… are you willing to spend the rest of your life with me?” His voice was soft and clear as he reached out to touch her hand.

This was their legend.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Screw magic, I want to learn how to do cool flips and stuff.”

Magic is awesome, until you've studied it for centuries.

Doevm reincarnates into a human to experience the path of a fighter to its fullest and swears not to rely on magic.

There is only one problem, a goddess stands in his way.

She pits him against both the hero and the villain for all of eternity.

How will he escape this, with magic or his fists? Maybe both?

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.

Rakna was not normal. No, unmistakably not.

Whether it was his appearance, his personality, his abilities, his identity, nothing about him had ever been banal. Was it his choice?

No. He was merely but a tormented soul doing its utmost to live the life it had learned to never enjoy.

Would being picked by a glorified universal abductor calling itself a system bring something out of him?

Would he finally learn to breathe in the pool of blood that suffocated him? The Harvester does not sow, he only collects.

All he has ever known to feel was loss and the only thing he can do is take.

He will devour their hearts and drink their blood if it is what it takes.