The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The chamber was filled with a sense of awe as everyone stood mesmerized by the restored grandeur of the Magic Tower University. Once a symbol of decayed ruins, now it gleamed with the same magnificence it had before its fall, every corner exuding magical energy. The arcane symbols etched into the marble floors, the towering spires, and the shimmering walls seemed to pulse with life once more.

A deep silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound ofsoft gasps as people took in the breathtaking sight.

Elara stood amidst the quiet, her stoic expression hiding the emotions swirling within her. She had seen many things in her short life, but this—this was a testament to power. The kind of power that could shape worlds, alter fate, and command respect from even the highest of circles. Her golden mana flickered faintly around her, reacting to the potent magic in the air.

Suddenly, a voice rich with mana and authority broke through the stillness.

"This... Did that bastard truly change so much? Or has hiding his strength been part of his plan from the start?"

Elara's heart skipped a beat at the familiarity of the voice. Her eyes scanned the chamber until they landed on him. Count Valen, her father. His tall, imposing figure was unmistakable, draped in the noble regalia of House Valen, his golden mana radiating around him like a protective shield. His eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto hers.

The sternness in his gaze melted the moment their eyes met, replaced by a soft, almost unrecognizable warmth.

"Father..." Elara whispered, though her voice was barely audible over the magic crackling in the air. Read chapters at empire

Before she could say anything more, Count Valen moved with a speed and grace only those adept in mana manipulation possessed. In an instant, he was standing before her, his arms enveloping her in a firm, almost desperate embrace. Elara felt his strength in the hug, a rare display of vulnerability from the man she had always known to be unshakable.

His golden mana washed over her like a protective blanket, and for the first time in what felt like years, Elara allowed herself to sink into the embrace.

"I'm glad you're safe," he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion.

Elara stiffened at first, unsure of how to react. This wasn't like her. She had never been one for sentimentality, not with him. But something about the battle they had just survived, about the reality of death and destruction hanging in the air, softened her resolve. Slowly, she lifted her arms and returned the hug, surprising even herself.

She didn't say much, just held onto him, her face buried against his chest.

It was unusual for her, but Count Valen seemed to understand. He didn't question it, simply held her tighter, his hand resting on her head as if to reassure himself that she was truly there, truly alive.

Behind them, the knights of House Valen moved quickly, forming a protective circle around the students, while the Drakhan knights, ever efficient, distributed provisions. Hot food and drink began to make their rounds, and for a moment, the atmosphere in the chamber felt almost peaceful, as if the chaos of the past hours hadn't happened.

After what felt like an eternity, Count Valen finally pulled back, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he examined her face.

"You've grown stronger," he said, his voice filled with pride but also something else—a hint of relief. "But you were afraid, weren't you?"

Elara lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes for a moment. "Perhaps," she admitted quietly. "But it's over now."

He nodded, his expression softening further. "It's okay. Even the strongest of us feel fear."

She wasn't used to this side of him—the side that acknowledged weakness, that offered comfort. It was disarming, but strangely... welcome. She opened her mouth to say something more, but before she could, she noticed the shift in his gaze. Count Valen's eyes moved past her, landing on Amberine and Maris, who stood a few feet away.

Amberine, usually fiery and brimming with energy, was oddly quiet, leaning against a crumbling pillar. Maris stood close by, her eyes downcast, lost in her own thoughts. The weight of what had transpired still hung heavy over them all.

Count Valen's eyes settled on Amberine, and for a moment, there was recognition in his gaze. "You're Polime's..." he began, his voice trailing off as if he suddenly realized who she was. His brow furrowed, and a flicker of something—sadness, perhaps—crossed his face. "Polime's daughter," he finished softly.

Amberine's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to read his thoughts. The tension between them was palpable. She could feel that he knew something, something important. He had recognized her father's name, and it was clear that there was more he wasn't saying.

Elara, sensing the awkward silence, stepped forward. "Father, this is Amberine," she introduced calmly. "And this is Maris."

Count Valen turned to Maris, offering her a polite nod. "Thank you for standing by my daughter's side," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Maris, still shaken by the events of the battle and the memory of her own lost family, simply bowed her head in acknowledgment, her usual bravery seeming to falter for a moment.

Then, his gaze returned to Amberine. "And you," he said, his tone more thoughtful now, "who is your supervisor?"

Amberine's eyes darkened, her posture stiffening at the question. She hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, her voice low and tense. "Draven," she answered, barely able to keep the bitterness from seeping into her tone.

Count Valen's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "I see. I don't want to admit it, but you're in good hands."

Amberine's eyes widened in disbelief. Good hands? How could he say that? How could he, of all people, say that when Draven was the very reason her father was dead? Her mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. Doesn't he know? It was impossible. Her father had been part of the inner circle of noble magicians, and everyone in that circle had known about the rumors surrounding Draven.

There was no way Count Valen could be unaware.

But before she could voice any of her confusion, a chilling presence swept through the room. Every head turned toward the grand staircase that led to the upper floors of the university.

There he was.

Professor Draven Arcanum von Drakhan. His usual air of cold precision and authority filled the space as he descended the stairs, his sharp eyes surveying the room with a single, calculated glance. He moved with an effortless grace, every step measured, every motion deliberate.

The restoration of the Magic Tower University was a testament to his power, and the man standing before them now was a living embodiment of that power.

Draven's eyes flicked briefly toward Elara, then Amberine, and finally Count Valen, before he spoke. "The restoration is complete," he said in a voice that was calm, controlled, and utterly devoid of emotion. "The tower will serve its purpose once more."

There was something in the way he said it, as if the tower's restoration was merely a small piece of a much larger plan—one that only he fully understood.

Count Valen stepped forward, his posture respectful but not subservient. "Draven," he acknowledged, "I have to admit that the Magic Tower's revival is... nothing short of extraordinary."

Draven's eyes flicked toward the count, the briefest hint of acknowledgment in his gaze. "It was necessary," he replied curtly, his tone leaving no room for further discussion.

Amberine's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the interaction. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, toconfront Draven about what he had done. But she didn't have the energy. Not now. Not here.

Instead, she could only watch as Draven's cold, calculating eyes scanned the room once more, taking in every detail, every person, every threat—real or imagined.

And then, without another word, he turned and continued his descent down the stairs, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

Amberine clenched her fists, her mind swirling with questions she didn't yet know how to ask. But one thing was certain—whatever Draven's plans were, they were far from over. And one day, she would ask him for the truth.

As Draven turn his back, Count Valen told Elara "I'll be back, our knights will lead you outside," and followed Draven.

They are not exiting the magic tower university ahead, but they are regrouping with the other heads of the great families of the kingdom.

And that's when Duchess Blackthorn suddenly appeared before Draven.

"Is the restoration of the magic tower university all your doing, Draven?" she asked as she hid her mouth and nose with her fancy fan.

"It is," Draven replied coldly as ever, but his eyes sharpens as he noticed the indication from her words. "What do you want?"

In response of Draven's question, the Duchess took an unexpected stance.

Her fan, or what is famous to be her shapeshifting wand points at Draven's head.

"Blackthorn, we've just finished the battle what are you doing?" (Valen)