The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Sharon moved with purpose, each swing of her sword accompanied by the sound of metal clashing or the heavy thud of an enemy body hitting the ground. The battlefield was chaos. The cloaked enemies surged forward in relentless waves, their movements well-coordinated, as though they shared a single mind, each advance more precise than the last. The air buzzed with the crackle of magic and the shouts of combat, creating a deafening symphony of destruction.

Sharon gritted her teeth as another wave rushed them. Her body moved automatically, blocking an incoming blade and pivoting to drive her enhanced sword into the next attacker. Each strike felt heavier, each dodge a little slower. The armor and weapon Draven had enhanced for her were doing their job, making her stronger, faster. But the enemies were endless, and her strength wasn't.

Just a little longer, she told herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had to hold on a little longer. Draven was still beside her, his presence a reassuring force amidst the chaos. His pens floated around him like a constellation, each one moving with deadly precision. The

Fire Pen

flicked back and forth, releasing bursts of searing flame that consumed their foes, while the

Water Elven Pen

weaved intricate barriers to deflect incoming spells. His

Psychokinesis Pen

shot through the air, piercing enemies as it moved at lightning speed, leaving Sharon awestruck at how efficiently he wielded it.

But even with Draven by her side, Sharon could feel herself faltering. Her movements were growing sluggish, her muscles aching from the constant exertion. She forced herself to keep moving, her blade deflecting an incoming strike, her eyes narrowing in concentration. Another cloaked figure came at her, and she barely managed to dodge the blade aimed at her neck. The enhanced armor absorbed part of the impact, but Sharon could feel the toll it was taking on her body. Her vision blurred momentarily, her head feeling heavy.

"This is getting ridiculous," she muttered under her breath, her voice strained. She swung her blade once more, her arm feeling like lead as she struck down another enemy. How many were left? It felt like they had been fighting for hours, but there seemed to be no end in sight.

Draven, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing down. His sharp eyes assessed the battlefield with precision, taking in every movement, every threat, as if calculating a solution to a complex equation. He moved with a grace that was almost frightening, his rocky sword slicing through enemies while his pens hovered around him like extensions of his body. Sharon couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at how effortlessly he moved, how calm he remained even in the midst of chaos.

"Keep your guard up," Draven said, his voice cold and detached as his gaze flickered to her for a split second. Sharon gritted her teeth, nodding. She knew he was right, but the exhaustion was creeping in, making her reactions slower, her strikes weaker.

Draven noticed the change in her almost immediately. He shifted his focus, adapting his fighting style to protect her more effectively. His

Psychokinesis Pen

moved more aggressively, striking down enemies that came too close to Sharon, while his own swordsmanship became more defensive, intercepting blows that were aimed at her. Sharon could feel his presence, the way he positioned himself between her and the advancing enemies, his movements calculated to shield her without hindering her own ability to fight.

"You need to recover," Draven said, his tone matter-of-fact as he deflected another blow. "You're no use to me if you collapse." Sharon scowled at his words, but there was no denying the truth behind them. She could feel her body betraying her, the fatigue setting in, making it harder to keep up.

Draven's mind worked quickly, analyzing the battlefield. The situation was growing more difficult. The cloaked enemies were too numerous, and Sharon's exhaustion was becoming more apparent with each passing moment. He needed to buy her time to recover, but the enemies weren't giving them any room to breathe.

"Focus on defense," Draven instructed, his gaze never leaving the advancing enemies. Sharon nodded, adjusting her stance, her movements more guarded as she focused on deflecting attacks rather than striking out. Draven stepped forward, his pens moving in a coordinated dance, releasing spells that cut through the enemy ranks, creating a momentary gap.

But just as Sharon thought they might have a chance to regroup, a strange sensation washed over her. It was heavy, disorienting, like a wave crashing against her mind. Her vision blurred, her surroundings twisting and distorting. She stumbled, her grip on her sword loosening as she tried to shake off the feeling.

"What... what is this...?" she muttered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. She blinked, her eyes narrowing in confusion as she tried to focus. But the sensation only grew stronger, pulling her away from reality, drawing her into a dreamlike state.

Her body felt distant, as if she were no longer in control, her actions no longer her own. Her vision darkened, and she could see herself—her own body, moving as though she were watching from a third-person perspective. Memories began to flood her mind, images flashing before her eyes—Lady Sophie and Draven, scenes from their past, moments she had either witnessed firsthand or heard about.

She saw Draven and Sophie together during their engagement. She saw Draven pursuing Sophie relentlessly, his actions bordering on obsessive. She remembered the whispers, the rumors of his unwanted advances, how he would not take no for an answer. She remembered the way Sophie's eyes would dim whenever Draven's name was mentioned, the way she would force a smile, pretending everything was fine when it wasn't.

The memories shifted, and Sharon found herself standing in the royal court, watching as Draven ended the engagement. She could hear his voice, cold and cutting as he called Sophie a "failure." She could see Sophie's face—her devastated expression, the tears she tried to hide as the court laughed at her, mocked her for being abandoned by Draven. Sharon's heart filled with rage at the memory, her fists clenching as she watched Sophie break, her confidence shattered by Draven's cruelty.

More memories flooded in—Sophie being belittled by the Royal Knights, mocked and ridiculed, her once-strong reputation tarnished because of Draven. Even those who had once been her allies turned against her, abandoning her in her time of need. Sharon could see it all, could feel the helplessness, the anger, the hatred building inside her. It was all because of Draven—because of his arrogance, his callous disregard for the pain he caused.

The hypnotic influence grew stronger, feeding on her emotions, amplifying her hatred for Draven. The more she remembered, the more the hatred consumed her, until it was all she could feel—all she could think of. Her vision darkened, her focus narrowing to a single point—Draven. The enemies around them no longer mattered. The battle, the cloaked figures, the danger—none of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was Draven.

Her eyes glowed a deep, unnatural red, her expression cold and empty. She moved forward, her enhanced sword raised, her attention solely on Draven. The enemy forces around them no longer mattered—her only objective now was to destroy him.

Draven immediately sensed the change. He turned, his sharp eyes narrowing as he saw the unnatural red glow in Sharon's eyes, the vacant expression on her face. He knew instantly what had happened. She was under the influence of a powerful spell—hypnotization, likely meant to turn her against him.

"Damn it," he muttered, his gaze shifting from the enemies around them to Sharon. The challenge had just become twofold. He couldn't afford to harm her, but she was no longer in control of her actions. He needed to find a way to protect her, to break the spell, while also fending off the seemingly endless tide of enemies.

Sharon lunged at him, her strikes powerful and precise, her blade glowing with the enhanced runes. Draven deflected her blows, his rocky sword clashing against hers, the sound of metal echoing across the battlefield. Her attacks were relentless, each strike aimed directly at him, her movements fluid but devoid of emotion.

Draven moved with precision, his eyes calculating each of her attacks, his mind working quickly to anticipate her movements. He couldn't afford to let her land a blow—not with the enhancements he had placed on her weapon and armor. He had made her stronger, faster, and now she was using that power against him.

The enemies around them continued their assault, their attacks aimed at both Sharon and Draven. Sharon, however, seemed to ignore them entirely, her focus solely on Draven. She moved with a single-minded determination, her blade striking out with deadly intent. Draven had to fend off the cloaked figures while simultaneously avoiding harming Sharon, creating a complicated and dangerous dance of magic and steel.

He blocked another strike from Sharon, his rocky sword absorbing the impact. His Psychokinesis Pen darted through the air, striking down an enemy that had gotten too close. The Fire Pen released a burst of flame, incinerating another, while the Water Elven Pen formed a barrier to deflect an incoming spell. Draven's mind was in overdrive, each calculation, each movement precise and deliberate.

"Sharon, snap out of it," he said, his voice cold, but there was a hint of urgency beneath the surface. He knew she couldn't hear him—not in her current state. But he had to try. He needed to reach her, to break through the spell that had taken hold of her.

Sharon's eyes remained vacant, her expression emotionless as she continued her assault. Her strikes were powerful, each one pushing Draven back, forcing him to focus all his attention on defending. He could feel the strain—not just from the enemies surrounding them, but from Sharon's relentless attacks. He couldn't keep this up forever. He needed to end this, and soon.

The bandaged man stood at a distance, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched the scene unfold. He raised his hand, his voice echoing across the battlefield, filled with mockery. "Now what will you do, Draven? Can you fight her and survive?"

Draven's eyes flickered to the bandaged man, his expression hardening. He had no time to respond, his focus shifting back to Sharon as she lunged at him once more, her blade aimed directly at his chest. He twisted his body, the blade missing him by inches, his own sword coming up to deflect her next strike.
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"This is just another equation," he thought, his mind racing. He needed to find the solution