Arcane Exfil - Chapter 31: Best Laid Plans

Min's system, System #151044, is tired of watching him get girls and make dumb decisions yet still manage to defeat the villain. If only he was the villain, there's no way Min would win.

His wish was granted. He now upgraded from a bodyless helper system to the evil villain, Ronin Dreadborne!

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After getting murdered and reincarnating as a system inside a Hero Transmigrating Machine, System #151044 spent thousands of years wondering why he had such a cruel fate to be a system for incompetent transmigrators like this.

But the worst is Min Cheng............

Because Min Cheng spends all his Hero points on girls instead of leveling up! And he is the dumbest transmigrators he ever met!

But through a rogue system that gave them a code to free themselves from their roles as a system, System #151044 was able to transform into Min Cheng's enemy on the next world, Ronin Dreadborne, in a mage fantasy world!

[Fate itself is evil. The only true enemy is fate, and I have defeated it.]

[And I shall teach you how to defeat it too. I will be giving you the gift of freedom. ]

[Be the master of your fate like you were always meant to be. And conquer those who try to stand in your way.]

That is exactly what he did as Ronin, and to defeat an evil fate, you have to be evil yourself!

“I will be the best villain in all the dimensions! Watch out, Min Cheng! I'm coming for you!”

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”