NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain

Axel's hand gripped his little brother, which was spurting wildly like a garden hose someone forgot to turn off.

His eyes snapped open, and just when he thought the pain couldn't get worse, it turned into something else—pleasure. An intense, toe-curling pleasure that made him question everything. One moment he was in sheer agony, the next he was drowning in ecstasy.

But when Axel's eyes finally focused on what was in front of him, his brain short-circuited.

Standing—or more accurately, sitting—in front of him, was a woman who looked like she stepped out of the most sinful dream a man could ever have.

She wasn't just hot; she was divine. Porcelain skin so flawless that he was sure even angels would be jealous, and that mature aura... holy fuck, it was like she was born to be worshiped. His knees almost buckled just looking at her.

She sat on a small, circular wooden chair, butt naked as the day she was born, her perfectly rounded ass cheeks perched up in a way that would make any man lose his religion. She was casually applying makeup, as if sitting bare-assed in the middle of the room was just a regular Tuesday for her.

Axel could barely see her face, as she was sitting sideways, but what he could see made his cock stand at full attention, saluting this goddess in all her glory. Her breasts—good god—they were the perfect size, full and soft, complimenting her ass cheeks like some sculptor had spent a lifetime making sure every curve was just right.

And those nipples... pink areolas, erect and begging to be touched, like little cherries on top of the most delicious dessert. Axel's hands twitched at the sight, desperate to reach out, squeeze them, maybe even suck on them like a starving man at a buffet.

For a second, Axel was completely hypnotized by the view in front of him, his brain shutting down all critical functions as he marveled at the scene. Everything else—his past, his pain, his still-throbbing little brother—faded into oblivion.

His entire being was focused on that goddess-like figure. He was lost, like a moth to the world's hottest flame.

But then—

"You?!"

A booming voice from behind yanked him out of his trance like a bucket of ice water to the face. Axel flinched, snapping his head away from the wooden window frame he'd been peeking through.

His heart lurched as he realized he wasn't just casually ogling this heavenly beauty—he was in the middle of the most classic voyeur scene ever written.

The woman quickly snapped her head in the direction of the voice, and in an instant, she was scrambling to cover herself with whatever dignity she had left.

Axel's pulse skyrocketed as the familiarity of the situation hit him like a brick to the face. He knew this place. He knew this scene. The moonlight, the exact spot where he was standing, and that booming voice—hell, it was the words straight from the damn web novel!

"This can't be happening."

Axel muttered, his blood running cold as it all clicked into place.

This wasn't just some weird peeping incident. No, this was Artis's chapter. The one where the poor bastard gets caught red-handed by a guard and sliced in half for daring to peek at the Lady of the clan.

"Fuck!"

Axel's heart pounded in his chest as the panic set in.

He turned his head slowly and, sure enough, there stood the guard, face twisted in rage, ready to rip him apart. Everything was happening exactly as it had in the novel. The dialogue, the setting—it was all too real.

'This must be a dream, right? Yes, this is a dream.'

Axel's heart pounded as the guard glared at him with murderous intent, his voice booming like thunder across the courtyard.

"You dare to peek into our Matriarch's room? Courting death, Senior Brother Artis!"

The guard stood tall, clad in a black and red robe, the colors of the Crimson Sun Sect. His spear gleamed under the moonlight, sharp and ready to strike. Axel blinked in confusion, his mind scrambling to catch up.

The guard raised his spear dramatically toward the sky, preparing for the move Axel knew all too well from the novel. Axel's pulse skyrocketed. He needed to think fast.

"Wait! Let me tell you something!"

Axel blurted out, desperation lacing his voice. He knew exactly how this scene was supposed to end—Artis getting diced like a chicken, but maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to change his fate even though this is just a dream.

But the guard's face twisted in disgust, his spear still aimed for the heavens as if gathering spiritual energy from the very stars.

"You've been a real pain in the ass for us, peasant. Even though you held the prestigious role of being the young master's right hand—the one who was supposed to guide him toward greatness—you corrupted him. You turned him into a degenerate, a disgrace to our sect, and to my Patriarch."

Axel's head spun. None of this was making any sense. The guard spoke like he had a personal vendetta, like Axel—well, Artis—was some kind of key player in the Crimson Sun Sect's downfall.

"And yet, nobody disposed of you... until now."

The guard continued, his eyes glowing with righteous fury, as if the weight of the entire sect's honor rested on this moment.

Axel swallowed hard.

'I'm so fucked.'

The guy wasn't just delivering some guard duty speech. He was pouring his soul into this, genuinely pissed off at Artis's reputation, not just following orders. Axel had no idea what the hell Artis had done to deserve this level of wrath.

'He called me Artis... and this is definitely Artis's scene from the novel, but...'

Axel's mind raced.

"I've never read this line before! Where's all this extra lore coming from?"

The guard stood firm, his voice dripping with venom.

"Grand Elder Pliny was right from the start. You're trash that needs to be taken out."

"Pliny?"

Axel muttered, confusion growing. He instantly recognized the name.

'The pig fatty with a gut like a yoga ball?'

Grand Elder Pliny was a character Axel knew well, but he had never connected him to Artis in the novel. Pliny was the brains behind the sect, always lurking in the shadows, advising the Crimson Sun Sect's Patriarch.

The guy didn't seem like a threat on the surface—more like a bloated merchant than a fearsome cultivator—but he was sharp as a sword in the way he manipulated the sect's decisions. Even the Patriarch deferred to him for critical moves.

But this? This was new.

'What the hell is going on?'

For Axel, Artis was always just a sidekick—a minor obstacle in the way of the protagonist, who was written to be cut down like a weed. There was no deep backstory for him, no lore that tied him into the sect's inner workings.

He was just a lackey, a thug meant to boost the protagonist's triumph. But now, standing here in Artis's shoes, it felt like there was more to the story than Axel had ever realized.

'What if I'm not just dreaming? What if this is real?'

The guard wasn't done.

"You've corrupted the young master with your vile ways. Turned him into a degenerate, a scourge on this sect. The Grand Elder knew you were trouble from the beginning, but no one acted fast enough. Now, it's too late, and I've been given the honor of cleaning up this mess."

Axel's heart pounded in his chest.

'Corrupted the young master?'

That wasn't in the novel either. The young master was a villain from the get-go—already a degenerate, already a disgrace. Artis was just his sidekick. What was this?

"Look," Axel stammered, desperately trying to think. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not—"

"You dare speak, traitor?"

The guard interrupted, his spear crackling with spiritual energy, glowing brighter with every second.

Boom!

A red flare burst into the night sky like a raging phoenix, lighting up the entire courtyard. The crackling energy from the spear's tip erupted into the heavens, spreading crimson smoke—a battle call, a signal for reinforcements. In that single moment, Axel's—or rather, Artis's—heart sank like a boulder. He was royally fucked.

"It's time to make this sect bloom once again!" The guard sneered, his voice filled with righteous fury. "And your death shall be the first step to—aargh!!"

Wham!

Before the guard could finish his dramatic monologue, a fist flew from nowhere, landing squarely on his face. The impact was so fast, so brutal, that his body hurled backward like a ragdoll, crashing into the stone wall with a sickening crunch. 

Axel—or should he say Artis—blinked. He hadn't even realized he'd moved. His body reacted faster than his mind, instinctively throwing the punch. His eyes flicked down to his still-clenched fist.

'Holy shit, I just knocked out a cultivator!'

But this wasn't normal. This wasn't the Artis from the novel—Artis wasn't supposed to survive this encounter.

He was doomed from the start, a side character with no cultivation worth mentioning. Yet here Axel was, standing tall, adrenaline pumping through his veins, alive and very much not dead.

'Artis didn't make it out of this one... but maybe I can. Screw the stupid author! If he isn't changing the ending, then I am.'