The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Waking up in the Plane of Chaos had never felt normal, but this time, it was something altogether different. The atmosphere was still electric with the residue of abyssal power, and it felt as though I had been submerged in darkness that refused to dissipate. As I regained consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the familiar ceiling of my personal lab in the Magic Tower University—the alchemical lamps overhead casting a faint blue hue across the stone walls, illuminating the scattered arcane instruments I had left behind.

The quiet was unnerving. Usually, the rhythmic hum of mana channels or the soft clink of equipment moving could be heard. This was dead silence, broken only by my shallow breathing. I slowly looked down at my hands, and my brow furrowed slightly at what I saw. Cradled in my right palm was a condensed magic core, pulsating with an intense energy that seemed to be tearing itself apart. Abyssal mana swirled within, mixed with various other elements—fire, water, shadow. It was a chaotic amalgamation, a combination that shouldn't have been possible, and yet, it existed.

Its energy pulsed, its presence suffocating—like a barely caged storm, ready to burst free. My left hand held something else entirely—four miniature horns, each about the size of a finger, curved and etched with ancient runes. The horns of Tiamat. Even in their miniature form, they radiated a power that felt almost too vast for this space, each one emanating a different form of chaos. One held a scorching heat, another a deep cold, while the other two hummed with unknown, erratic energies. I could feel them, the rawness of their nature, and even without [Comprehension], it was obvious that these horns could transform into something far greater—perhaps even regain their original, monstrous size.

I let out a soft breath, trying to ground myself in the present. There was a pull, a deep instinct to study these items further, to understand the full extent of their power—to know if they were a blessing or a curse, or perhaps both. My gaze moved across the room, from one piece of arcane equipment to another. No—this lab was not equipped for such an undertaking. I would need to transport these artifacts to my secret lab beneath the mansion in Drakhan, where I could work unrestricted, away from prying eyes and unnecessary questions.

I rose to my feet, feeling a sense of disorientation. My movements were deliberate, careful, as I placed the items in a containment case—reinforced with runes that would suppress their energy. Even then, I could feel the vibration of power resonating through the metal and glass, an ever-present reminder of their potency.

The windows of my lab were arched, reaching almost to the ceiling, and I moved towards them, looking out over the courtyard of the Magic Tower. My eyes narrowed slightly—it was evening. The sun had set, the sky painted in deep shades of violet and indigo, with the first stars beginning to twinkle. I frowned. I had gone to the Plane of Chaos during the afternoon; it should have only been a few hours. Time, it seemed, had slipped beyond my control once again. The Plane of Chaos often worked like that—a place where the flow of time was more a suggestion than a rule, bending to the will of those who commanded it.

"How troublesome," I murmured under my breath.

Turning my attention inward, I reached out for my clones—the versions of myself I used for surveillance and information gathering. It was a simple enough task, usually akin to flexing a muscle, but this time... I felt a strange resistance. The responses came back hazy, unclear, like trying to peer through fogged glass. It was like the connection had weakened somehow, and it took me a full moment to try and adjust, to clear the interference. The sensation was foreign, unwelcome. I didn't like anomalies I couldn't immediately understand.

"This is quite complex," I muttered, my brow furrowing.

The Plane of Chaos had never left its mark on me in such a way before. Whatever had happened during the fight, whatever energies I had absorbed, they were affecting more than just the physical plane. I needed more information, but now wasn't the time to dwell on uncertainties. My mind was already calculating the steps required to regain full control—to eliminate whatever obstruction dared interfere with my abilities.

Gathering myself, I moved to leave, my mind already on the next steps—a transport spell, a quiet journey to Drakhan. The thought of studying Tiamat's remnants stirred a sense of anticipation in me. Knowledge was power, and there was nothing more intoxicating than holding the power of a god—to understand it, to harness it.

Wait.

It's gone.

_____

Amberine's fingers moved deftly over the orb of emotions, her expression one of deep concentration. The orb sat in the center of the table, glowing faintly, its surface etched with runes and channels that directed the flow of mana. The lab they worked in was brightly lit, every corner filled with alchemical components, half-finished projects, and stacks of research notes. The air buzzed with the excitement of discovery, the promise of breakthrough.

"If we balance the emotional currents here," Amberine said, her eyes focused on the intricate rune she was adjusting, "it should stabilize the negative projections and prevent them from overwhelming the orb."

Elara nodded, her hands hovering over a set of tiny rune-inscribed plates. "Right, it's about finding equilibrium. We need to channel the fear without letting it consume the entire core."

Maris watched them both, her brow furrowed as she studied the orb. "But what if it's not just about equilibrium? What if there's a counterbalance required—a kind of duality?"

Amberine paused, glancing up at Maris, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "You mean like grounding one emotion with another?"

Maris nodded. "Exactly. We need to stabilize fear with something that opposes it, like hope or calmness. Otherwise, the orb will always lean too far into instability."

Elara stepped forward, her expression one of determination. She placed her hand over the orb, her eyes closing as she focused, drawing her mana inward. Slowly, she projected the feeling of fear—an emotion she had learned to harness and direct. The orb reacted immediately, its surface shivering, rippling as though disturbed by an unseen wind. The glow deepened, shifting into a dark blue hue, and for a moment, it stabilized.

"It's holding," Amberine whispered, her voice filled with excitement.

But the test wasn't over. Maris stepped up, her hand replacing Elara's, her expression one of steely concentration. She projected hope, her mana flowing into the orb, a soft golden light beginning to glow within. It seemed to work—the orb glowed with a soft golden hue, the colors mixing, balancing.

And then, without warning, the light flickered, the stability shattering. The glow dimmed, the orb losing its balance, slipping back into chaos. Maris sighed, stepping back, her frustration evident.

"We're missing something," she muttered, her brow furrowing as she looked over the scattered notes. "There's got to be a component we're overlooking."

Amberine frowned, her eyes narrowing as she studied the orb, her mind racing through the possibilities. Then, a thought struck her, a flash of insight. "It's not just about equilibrium," she said, her eyes lighting up. "We need a grounding element—something that ties the opposing emotions together."

They huddled together, their hands moving quickly, adjusting the runes, adding a new channel to ground the energy. Elara projected fear once more, her eyes narrowing in concentration. The orb shivered, then began to stabilize, glowing a deep, consistent blue. Maris projected hope, the golden light returning, mixing with the blue, the orb glowing steadily, maintaining its balance.

"It's working," Elara whispered, her voice filled with awe.

The door to the lab burst open, and Professor Astrid strode in, her presence commanding, her eyes sharp as she looked at the three girls. "Have you girls made any progress?" she asked, her voice carrying across the room even before she took in their success.

Amberine and Maris exchanged knowing smiles, and Amberine gestured towards the orb. Professor Astrid paused, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. She stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the orb, her breath catching as she saw the steady glow, the perfect balance of emotions.

"This…" Astrid breathed, her voice filled with astonishment. She moved quickly, her eyes scanning the runes, the intricate formulae scattered across the table. "This is perfect. How did you…?"
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Amberine shrugged, a hint of a smile on her lips. "We had a bit of inspiration," she said, her voice casual.

Professor Astrid barely heard her, her focus entirely on the orb and the notes. She picked up a piece of parchment, her eyes scanning the calculations, the runes. "All of these are working," she said, her voice filled with awe. "This is a breakthrough."

Maris and Amberine exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. They both knew the truth—that part of their success had been due to Draven's insights, his guidance. But now wasn't the time for that. They had their breakthrough, and that was what mattered.

Professor Astrid looked up at them, her eyes shining with excitement. "With this, girls, we are ready for the Symposium," she said, her voice filled with pride. "You've done it."

The three young women grinned, the exhaustion of their efforts momentarily forgotten in the thrill of success. Amberine felt a surge of pride, her gaze moving to the orb, its steady glow a testament to their hard work, their determination.

"We did it," Elara whispered, her eyes filled with excitement.

Maris nodded, her gaze never leaving the orb. "Yeah," she said softly, her voice filled with wonder. "We really did."