In the web novel Transmigrated as a Minor Villain, fans always argued about one thing.
Who was stronger—Marcus Ardent or Daelen?
Some swore it was Daelen. He had the plot armor, after all. The legendary system, the epic bloodline, the destiny of a chosen one. He climbed his way to the top, crushing demon lords and slaying fallen gods with calculated brilliance.
No system. No divine inheritance. No miracles.
Just talent, sheer force of will, and a heart that never gave in.
He was the man who stood against the storm with nothing but a wand and unbreakable conviction.
The man who faced dragons, gods, and fate—and laughed.
He was my second favorite character across those thousand Chapters.
Now he stood before me, wand in hand, as real as the beating of my heart.
"Ezra," Marcus said, his voice cautious. "I don’t know why you’re ignoring me."
There were things I could say. Reasons. Memories. Regrets.
But they didn’t matter.
Marcus’s jaw clenched. "Tch. You’ve changed. You think you’re better than me now? Stronger than me? That you can actually defeat me?"
My eyes didn’t waver.
I said, calmly drawing my sword.
" your opinion of me... doesn’t matter. Come and get me if you can."
The instructor’s voice cut through the tension.
"Final Match of the Special Combat Test: Marcus Ardent vs Ezra Celestrian... Begin!"
Marcus didn’t waste a second.
Three fireballs flared into existence, hurtling toward me with deadly speed.
I inhaled softly, letting instinct guide my steps.
Step left. Twist. Shift weight.
The orbs passed harmlessly by, heat licking the edge of my coat.
The ground split, and roots surged up like serpents, aiming to impale.
One slash. Two. Three.
My blade carved through them before they could reach me.
But Marcus wasn’t done.
"Triple Accel: Mana Bullet!"
Three high-speed bolts screamed through the air.
My sword responded before I did—
Each orb dispersed mid-air, caught in the arc of clean parries.
"Fast reflexes, Ezra!" Marcus called out, a sharp grin on his face.
"But can you handle this?"
He cast 4x Acceleration on himself and vanished.
My muscles tensed. Instinct screamed—
I dove forward, feeling the chill of the spell kiss my shoulder.
Before I could land, a circle beneath my feet erupted with light.
Wind howled around me. Poison mist surged into my lungs.
I coughed once, vision flickering.
So this was the trap.
Across the storm, Marcus stood calm, charging something massive.
"Flash Freeze Judgment."
A spell I remembered well. Rank 4. Dual element. Ice and light. Lethal.
In the stands, whispers broke out.
"He’s casting combined spells at Rank 3?" Katrina muttered, wide-eyed.
"That’s not prodigy," Yumina said. "That’s monster level."
Drake smirked. "Yeah. He’s strong."
Then his voice lowered.
"But he’s still going to lose."
Inside the cyclone, I exhaled.
My mana surged—cool, steady, and deep.
A violet aura wrapped around my blade.
I raised it, drawing a clean arc in the air.
The glowing slash tore through the cyclone, dispelled the mist, and shattered the trap entirely.
I stepped forward, out of the destruction.
Marcus flinched—but held firm.
He released Flash Freeze Judgment.
A colossal beam of blinding cold ripped toward me, freezing the air itself.
"Ezra, dodge!" a student shouted.
"Is he trying to die!?"
My sword hummed as I drew it back.
Mana flowed—not wild, but focused.
"Intermediate Piercing Technique – Void Drill."
I met the beam head-on.
My blade struck the heart of the spell.
With a scream of shattering magic, the spell broke.
The arena floor cracked beneath the force.
Even Marcus took a step back, shock evident.
"You... pierced a Rank 4 spell?"
"Magic has rules, Marcus," I said quietly. "It needs time. Casting. Power."
Marcus’s gaze sharpened.
"Then let’s finish this!"
He surged forward, casting multiple spells at once—
Flame Tornado. Lightning Edge. Ice Barrage. Poison Mist.
All Rank 2 and 3, all detonating in perfect synchronization.
The battlefield lit up in chaos.
I moved into my full sword flow.
Every slash—flawless. Every dodge—calculated.
Sparks screamed across steel. Magic clashed with motion.
We collided mid-air, momentum twisting around us.
The arena trembled beneath our feet.
Then, Marcus backed away.
His breath was ragged. Blood trickled from his nose.
But his eyes held fire.
"Rank 5 Spell—Heaven’s Wrath!"
A glyph the size of a building appeared above us, burning with divine light.
"Rank 5?! He’s lost it!"
Instructors stood, ready to interfere.
I stood still, sword raised slightly.
"If you’re going that far..."
"Then I’ll end this in one strike."
Mana danced around me—elegant, sharp, and infinite.
Stars reflected in the steel.
"Advanced Sword Art – Final Form: Starfall Cleave."
A streak of silver light erupted—
It carved across the sky, the arena, and Marcus’s spell.
The glyph shattered like glass.
The spell collapsed into nothing.
And Marcus’s wand snapped in half.
Not even the wind dared speak.
"Winner: Ezra Celestrian!"
Even the professors seemed too stunned to move.
I sheathed my sword with a quiet click.
As if it were just another day.
As if it hadn’t been anything special.
Marcus lay on the ground, coughing.
Not to gloat. Not to mock.
But because the match was over.
We had crossed blades. That was enough.
"You... really have changed..." he murmured.
His voice didn’t matter anymore.
In the stands, someone whispered:
No one had an answer.
To me, it was just another step.
That this world—this novel I was trapped inside—
Wasn’t bound by the rules I once knew.