The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Gilgamesh stood before the colossal, defeated form of Tiamat. Her once-majestic body now lay in a state of disarray, wings splayed out across the broken terrain, her scales dulling under the weight of her failure. He gazed at her, his expression inscrutable, neither triumphant nor sorrowful, merely observing the fallen deity. He remained motionless for a moment, as though paying silent homage to the creature that had once represented such primal chaos, the mother of gods and monsters.

With a flick of his wrist, Gilgamesh gave a seemingly dismissive gesture. The gesture was understated, almost casual, but its effect was profound. Tiamat's massive body began to shiver, then crumble, her scales losing their substance and turning into ash. An unseen wind gathered, sweeping across the endless landscape of the Plane of Chaos. Bit by bit, Tiamat dissolved, her ashes carried away until nothing remained of her except the memory of her once-daunting presence.

Gilgamesh stood still, his eyes following the trail of ash as it drifted into the void, as though he were contemplating the end of an era. For a moment, there was silence—a sense of reverence that seemed to hang in the air, as if even the Plane of Chaos itself acknowledged the significance of what had occurred. Tiamat was gone, the embodiment of primordial chaos finally vanquished, and with her departure came a weighty, almost solemn stillness.

Aurelia and Anastasia stood in awe, watching as Tiamat vanished before their eyes. They had been prepared to fight, to defend Draven and Lyan to their very last breaths if they had to. But here was Gilgamesh, effortlessly commanding the end of the god of chaos. His presence was overwhelming, an embodiment of regal authority that seemed almost otherworldly.

When the last of Tiamat's ashes had vanished, Gilgamesh turned to face Aurelia and Anastasia. His gaze was intense, those reddish-golden eyes holding a depth that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of existence. But this time, there was something different in his expression—an absence of his usual arrogance, a gravity that neither of the women had seen before. His voice, which had often been filled with disdain and condescension, softened as he spoke.

"Thank you," he said, his words hanging in the air, catching both Aurelia and Anastasia off guard.

For a moment, they were silent, unsure of how to respond. Aurelia, always ready with a sharp remark, found herself without words, her lips parting in surprise. Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes, had never been one to show gratitude, certainly not to those he considered beneath him. Yet here he was, offering thanks—and for the first time, it sounded genuine.

"Tch." Aurelia finally managed, her brow furrowing, the word almost involuntary. She was not one to be caught off guard, even by something as unusual as this.

Gilgamesh continued, his eyes unwavering. "This is not the end," he said, his voice carrying a weight that suggested he was speaking of more than just the battle they had fought. "You will have one final challenge ahead. One last quest that you must face before your journey is truly over." His eyes held Aurelia's, and for a moment, it seemed as if there was a spark of understanding—a silent acknowledgment of the burdens they both carried.

He paused, then turned his gaze to the unconscious forms of Draven and Lyan, lying still upon the ground. There was an odd sense of respect in his gaze, something almost akin to admiration, though masked by his usual aloof demeanor. "These two," he said, his voice softening as he spoke, "just as you have inherited my royal heritage, they have inherited my ego."

Gilgamesh's eyes shifted, focusing on Lyan. "This Tiamat is not the same as the one you will face alone, you fool," he said, his words aimed at the unconscious incubus. "But now, you have seen it—the image of what defeating such a being could look like. And it is within your grasp." He nodded slightly, a rare gesture of acknowledgment. "Your display today was splendid. A true testament to the heroic potential of humanity."

Aurelia, still holding her sword in her hand, watched him with narrowed eyes. His words were far from what she had expected—they lacked the arrogance, the disdain that she had come to associate with Gilgamesh. Instead, they were filled with something else—something that seemed almost like hope.

Gilgamesh's expression changed slightly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as he spoke his final words, his voice filled with an unexpected gentleness. "Rejoice," he said, the word carrying with it both a command and an encouragement. "The quest has subsided. Rest, heroes of men."

But then, he suddenly stop.

"You never stop observing, aren't you, magician of dreams,"

Golden flames began to engulf his body, their light illuminating the Plane of Chaos with an ethereal glow. Aurelia opened her mouth, a protest on her lips—she wanted to demand answers, to ask him why he was doing this, what he truly intended. But before she could speak, before she could even form the words, Gilgamesh began to fade.

He vanished without fanfare—the flames consumed him, and in an instant, he was gone, leaving nothing but silence in his wake. Aurelia blinked, her hand still gripping her sword, her mind struggling to process what had just happened. Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes, had disappeared, leaving them with more questions than answers.

Before she or Anastasia could react, they felt a sudden pull—an invisible force that tugged at them, pulling them away from the Plane of Chaos. There was no transition, no familiar void of white that they were used to seeing before returning to their world. It was abrupt, disorienting, like being ripped from one reality and thrown into another.

Aurelia blinked, her vision swimming, her surroundings blurring as they changed. And then, suddenly, she was lying in her bed, staring up at the ornate, familiar ceiling of her bedchamber. She let out a breath, her chest tightening as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

She pushed herself up, her body aching, her head pounding. Around her, she saw familiar faces—her maids, their expressions filled with shock and relief. They gasped, their eyes widening as they saw her awake. One of them rushed forward, her face pale, her hands trembling.

"Your Majesty," the maid said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're awake!"

Aurelia frowned, her mind still foggy, the events of the Plane of Chaos still fresh in her mind. She looked at the maid, her brow furrowing. "I was... sleeping?" she asked, her voice hoarse, her throat dry.
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The maid nodded, her eyes wide, her expression a mix of joy and concern. "Yes, Your Majesty. You've been unconscious for two days. We were all so worried."

Aurelia's frown deepened. "Two days?" she repeated, her mind struggling to grasp the concept. She had been in the world of the quest for far longer than that, and yet... time had always been strange when she entered that place. It was always just a matter of seconds in the real world, no matter how long she spent there. But this time, it was different.

"We called for the royal priests," the maid continued, her voice trembling. "They tried to examine you, but they said there was a powerful curse... Some of them collapsed, coughing up blood." Her voice broke, tears welling in her eyes. "We were so scared."

Before Aurelia could respond, the door to her chamber opened, and an elderly priest entered. His face was pale, his body frail, his movements slow. He approached Aurelia, his eyes filled with both fear and reverence.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his hands trembling as he reached out to her. "I must... check you once more."

Aurelia nodded, her brow furrowing as she watched the priest. He placed his hands on her, his eyes closing as he muttered a prayer under his breath. She could feel his energy, the faint tingle of his magic as he examined her. He was frail, his body weakened—perhaps from whatever curse had affected him while she was gone.

After a moment, the priest stepped back, his eyes wide, his expression one of shock and disbelief. He looked at Aurelia, his voice filled with awe. "The curse... It is gone."

The maids let out a collective gasp, their eyes widening, tears of relief streaming down their faces. They cheered, their voices filled with joy, the tension that had filled the room finally lifting.

But amidst the celebration, Aurelia felt a sense of unease settle in her chest. She frowned, her eyes narrowing as she stared at her hands, her thoughts racing. This was strange—something was different. Something was wrong.

She muttered to herself, her voice barely audible over the cheers of her maids. "This is strange..."

No one heard her. They were too caught up in the joy of the moment, too relieved to see her awake and well. But Aurelia couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Every time she had entered the world of the quest, time in her real world had barely moved. It had always been just a few seconds, no matter how long she had spent there.

But this time, it was different. She had been gone for two days. And she had no idea why.

Aurelia stared at her hands, her brow furrowed, her heart pounding in her chest. There was a heaviness there, a feeling that she couldn't quite shake—a sense that something had changed, something fundamental that she couldn't yet understand.

"This is weird," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes filled with uncertainty.