The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Draven kept his focus absolute, his sharp gaze tracking Sharon's every movement, blocking each swing of her blade with the precision of a master. Each of her attacks was fierce, deliberate, aimed to harm. Her hatred and fury were palpable—an intensity that felt almost unnatural, beyond anything he would have expected from her. Her eyes glowed with that eerie red light, her movements frantic but calculated, each strike carrying a force that could only come from a deeply rooted grudge.

His mind worked quickly, analyzing the situation even as he parried her attacks. There was something about her, something unnatural in the way she moved—like a puppet being controlled by invisible strings. Draven's brows furrowed as he deflected another heavy blow, his eyes narrowing, trying to discern what had taken hold of her. It wasn't just a mere enchantment; it was something far more insidious, something that altered her very essence.

Reluctantly, Draven made his decision. If he wanted to understand this spell, he would have to use a technique he hadn't needed in a long time. A skill that demanded more mana and concentration than he would have liked to spend in a battlefield such as this. But he had no choice.

"[Comprehension]," Draven whispered under his breath, his voice lost amidst the clashing of swords and the shouts of battle. He hadn't used this in years—not because he couldn't, but because he seldom needed to. His understanding had long surpassed the need for such a direct approach. But this was different.

With a deep breath, Draven began to channel his mana, a blue glow beginning to emanate from his eyes as the world around him shifted. Everything around him slowed slightly, the ambient mana in the air becoming visible, the flows and currents clear as day. He could see the threads of magic woven into Sharon, twisting into her very being, warping her thoughts, her emotions.

There, within her, was a series of complex magic circles, carved deeply, intricately. They were far more advanced than anything he had expected—layered, each one feeding into the next, amplifying the hatred and fury within her. He could see it clearly now. The magic took her memories of him, twisted them, magnified every slight, every wrong, and turned it into fuel for her rage.

Draven gritted his teeth, his gaze never wavering as he deflected another blow. He could dismantle it—he knew he could. He had the skills, the knowledge to break the enchantment and set her free. But the complexity of the spell was beyond anything he had encountered in recent times. It would take time, and more importantly, focus. And in this battlefield, time and focus were luxuries he could hardly afford. If he lost concentration for even a moment, Sharon might be struck down by the enemies that still surrounded them.

He had to find another way.

Another blow from Sharon, another twist of her body as she lunged forward, her blade aiming for his chest. Draven moved swiftly, his body twisting to avoid the strike, his eyes narrowing as he parried her attack. He was buying time, holding her off, trying to come up with a solution. The longer he looked at the magic circles within her, the more he realized that there was something familiar about them.

Suddenly, it clicked. The Orb of Emotions. His students, Amberine Maris and Elara, had been researching the concept—a way to link emotions with magic, to enhance spells through the power of emotion. This was similar, though far more sinister. The enchantment amplified Sharon's hatred, her anger, turning it into power. It wasn't just controlling her; it was feeding on her emotions, using them to sustain itself. Explore new worlds at My Virtual Library Empire

Draven's gaze sharpened. He knew what he had to do. He couldn't dismantle the circles directly, not yet. But he could weaken them, reduce their power by weakening the emotions that fueled them. He needed to buy time, to keep her occupied until he could find a way to break the spell completely.

Draven took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Sharon's. He let his guard down—just enough. Her blade found purchase, slicing across his arm, the pain sharp and immediate. Blood flowed freely, staining his robes, dripping to the ground. Sharon's eyes widened for a moment, her movements faltering slightly as she saw the blood, her gaze flickering with something—something beyond the hatred that had consumed her.

Good, Draven thought, his gaze never wavering. He had to show her the impact of her actions, to make her see, to make her feel. He allowed her to strike again, this time her blade cutting across his side, the pain radiating through him, his mana flaring in response. He kept his focus, his eyes locked onto her, his expression calm, calculated. He needed her to see—to understand, even if it was only for a moment.

Amidst Sharon's relentless attacks, Draven continued to fend off the enemies that approached them. His Psychokinesis Pen darted through the air, striking down attackers with deadly precision, while his Fire Pen released bursts of flame, keeping their foes at bay. The Water Elven Pen moved gracefully, creating barriers, deflecting incoming spells. It was a chaotic dance of survival, each movement deliberate, each action calculated.

Sharon's attacks grew less focused, her strikes becoming less forceful. Draven could see the magic circles within her mind beginning to shrink, their power waning as her emotions began to waver. It was working, but he needed more time. He needed to weaken the enchantment further, to create an opening, a chance to dismantle it completely.

The Devil Pen floated beside him, its dark aura pulsating with power. Draven knew what he had to do. He channeled his mana, his gaze shifting to the bandaged man in the distance—the one who had orchestrated this. The Devil Pen moved, manipulating Draven's own blood, forming small but powerful magic circles within the crimson liquid. The circles moved, embedding themselves around the battlefield, focusing on the bandaged man.

Draven endured Sharon's attacks, his body moving with precision, each movement calculated to minimize the damage while keeping her occupied. The magic circles formed a web, binding the bandaged man, restricting his movements. It was a

Death Ritual

, a powerful spell using blood magic, constructed amidst the chaos of battle.

"I won't let you do it easily, of course!" the bandaged man shouted, his voice filled with mocking laughter. He raised his hand, dark energy gathering around him, preparing to unleash a powerful attack on Draven. But Draven's gaze flickered to him, his eyes cold, unwavering.

"Who said I didn't know?" Draven replied, his voice carrying a chilling finality.

Suddenly, the bandaged man found himself unable to move. His body froze, dark tendrils of magic binding him in place, preventing him from completing his spell. His eyes widened in shock as he looked down, seeing the faint glow of blood-red magic circles at his feet.

"As you were saving her... you constructed a spell to dispel my immortality?" the bandaged man whispered, disbelief etched in his voice. Draven didn't spare him a glance, his focus entirely on Sharon, his eyes narrowing as he saw the magic circles within her beginning to weaken further.

Draven knew the Death Ritual wasn't perfect. He had constructed it amidst combat, and it didn't completely remove the bandaged man's immortality. But it was enough. The spell targeted the core of his immortality, specifically the part within his chest, making him vulnerable. The Psychokinesis Pen moved, darting forward, striking through the bandaged man's chest, piercing the heart that had now become vulnerable.

The bandaged man's eyes widened, his body jerking as the magic circles tightened, the curse of undying within his chest dispelled. His mocking laughter ceased, replaced by silence as his body crumpled to the ground. Draven didn't spare him another glance, his focus entirely on Sharon.

With the immediate threat gone, Draven focused all his energy on Sharon. His hands moved with purpose, his gaze intense as he channeled mana into the Water Elven Pen, the soothing blue light enveloping her. The magic circles within Sharon's mind continued to shrink, each layer peeled away by Draven's relentless focus.

He muttered an incantation, his voice resonating with authority, each word carrying the weight of his intent. The magic circles shattered, the spell dissipating as Sharon's eyes began to clear. The red glow faded, her gaze becoming her own once more.

Sharon blinked, her vision returning to normal. She felt disoriented, her body weak, her mind struggling to make sense of what had just happened. She looked up at Draven, her eyes widening as she took in his state—his robes torn, his body bloodied, yet he still stood tall, his expression calm and unwavering.

"What... what just happened?" she managed, her voice shaky.

Draven looked at her, his gaze cold, yet there was a hint of relief beneath the surface. He spoke, his voice steady, commanding. "Now return, Sharon."