The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Back at the university, after Draven disappeared to the toilet, a certain figure—a woman—strolled around in his guise.

"That vile man. He broke our promise," the woman muttered.

As she walked, her white, silky hair flowed perfectly with each step. She was clad in knight attire that clearly showed her rank above a normal knight: a polished silver breastplate adorned with intricate gold filigree, a flowing blue cape fastened with an ornate brooch, and high leather boots that clicked with each step.

Her armor, though practical, was designed with elegance, highlighting her status and authority within the knightly order.

"Just where is he? Is he at his office?" she wondered aloud, searching for the man who had caused her so much hardship with his obsession.

Draven Arcanum von Drakhan, the false prodigy, a fool with an arrogant mask, the villain professor.

Arriving at his office, she knocked immediately.

"Hello? Draven? It's me, Sophie," she called. There was no response.

Knock! Knock!

Her heart turned cold. With her rising emotion, the temperature around her dropped several degrees as her mana began to stir.

"Hello? If you're avoiding me because you broke our promise, it will only worsen my opinion of you, Draven. Please be—" Before she could finish, a staff member interrupted her.

"U-Um... if you're looking for Professor Draven, he hasn't reached his office yet," he said with a wry smile, the chill from her mana evident on his face.

"Oh... I-I'm sorry. Thank you for the information," she stammered, her face reddening as she turned to leave.

"I-I guess I was wrong. But where did that man go? Returning home this early is so unlike him." She uttered.

"Maybe he did so because he's afraid of facing you, my lady," said the person who had been following her like a shadow.

"He wouldn't. I've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't leave the university until his working hours are finished because of his huge ego," Sophie replied with absolute confidence.

Checking the watch on her wrist, she let out a sigh. "I thought I could visit him after the class. There's something about the lecture that I wanted to ask him, aside from voicing my disappointment. But I guess it's already time for our class. Let's go, Sharon. Unlike him, our class is not just words," she said as she turned and began to walk away.

Suddenly, a deep voice interrupted her. "Lady Icevern. Fancy meeting you here," the voice rumbled, thick with mana that resonated with anyone who practiced its use, whether as a warrior or a mage, indicating the speaker's immense power.

"L-Lord Chancellor," Sophie and her knight immediately bowed respectfully.

It was the Chancellor of the Magic Tower University, the mightiest figure within the institution. He was an imposing figure with long, silver hair flowing down his back, a neatly trimmed beard, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see through everything. His robes were of the deepest blue, adorned with silver runes that glowed faintly with contained power.

A staff, taller than himself and crowned with a crystalline orb, was held loosely in his hand, emanating an aura of ancient magic.

With a raise of his hand, he halted their formalities. "Halt the formalities. I have had enough of them. Hm?" The Chancellor glanced in the direction Sophie had come from and nodded knowingly. "I've seen Draven's lecture, splendid as ever. But today seems different; his words gave me some inspiration as well.

I was about to visit him, but it seems he is not in his office." The Chancellor gave Sophie an understanding look. "Are you here to visit your husband as well, young Icevern?"

Sophie's face twitched at the word 'husband', but she maintained her composure. As a knight, it was essential to show proper formality and courtesy to those of higher rank. "I did. But it seems that he's not here. Since it's near the time for me to give the knight class their first lecture as well, would you please excuse me, sire?"

"Of course, of course. Be well, Young Lady. And stay patient," the Chancellor said, uttering some cryptic words before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

"Phew! Visiting that man has never been a good choice," Sophie said, trying to calm herself. The Chancellor's presence was quite overwhelming. She then looked at her knight. "Are you okay, Sharon?"

"I-I'm fine, my lady," Sharon replied.

"...Let's get a drink before heading to the class," Sophie suggested, seeking a moment to compose herself before continuing her duties.

___

"Come," I uttered. Following my words, several items came to me directly, twirling and rotating with my command, then returning to their positions. "This is good," I muttered to myself, feeling a sense of satisfaction with my progress. For the past three days, my life has been consumed by rigorous experimentation with magic.

My study had transformed into a chaotic laboratory, littered with books, scrolls, and magical artifacts.

I had a decent grasp of summoning flames and manipulating water, but anything beyond elementary magic was beyond my reach. My mana pool, though considerable, wasn't enough to sustain advanced spells. Each time I tried, I found myself waiting for my mana to replenish, a slow and tedious process that severely hindered my progress.

Realizing that mastering magic outside my specialization—control magic—would take an exorbitant amount of time and effort, I decided to focus solely on what I was meant to excel in: psychokinesis.

Control magic had always been Draven's forte, and I was determined to hone this ability to its fullest. The challenge lay in maintaining and memorizing the intricate magic circles required for psychokinesis. The precision and concentration needed were daunting, and any lapse in focus could lead to failure. As I pondered this, an idea struck me that could potentially simplify my struggle.

Yesterday, after an intense session of spellcasting, I decided to take a shower. The hot water soothed my weary muscles, washing away the grime and fatigue of the day. Stepping out, I stood before the grand mirror in my bathroom, a relic from Draven's opulent lifestyle. As I toweled off, my eyes caught sight of my reflection, and I paused. Something was different about my arms.

According to the game's lore, Draven bore tattoos of curses imprinted on his forearms—intricate and sinister marks that spoke of his dark past and immense power. These tattoos, which had always defined Draven's arms, were gone.

I stared in disbelief at my unblemished skin. The curses that had once marked my arms had vanished, leaving them bare. As I traced my fingers over the smooth skin, an idea began to form. The absence of these tattoos provided an opportunity—a blank canvas.

I had been struggling with the precision needed to maintain and memorize the magic circles for psychokinesis. But what if I could permanently engrave these magic circles onto my body? This would save time and effort, allowing me to access my powers more readily. Determined to pursue this idea, I spent hours drafting the design of the magic circle.

Using various tomes and scrolls for reference, I meticulously crafted the pattern, ensuring its accuracy and effectiveness. Once I was satisfied, I prepared for the ritual to inscribe it onto my left forearm.

The process would be painful, I knew. Engraving a magic circle onto one's body involved binding the spell directly to flesh and blood. However, my [Herculean Physique] would help mitigate the pain, and the potential benefits far outweighed the risks.

Gathering the necessary materials—a fine-tipped stylus imbued with enchantments, a vial of magical ink, and a small blade for the initial cuts—I sat at my desk, rolling up my sleeve. The stylus glowed faintly as I dipped it into the ink and began the delicate work of inscribing the magic circle onto my skin.

The first cut was sharp, a searing pain that shot through my arm. I gritted my teeth and continued, the ink seeping into the wound and merging with my flesh. The pain was intense, but I focused on the task at hand, knowing each line and curve brought me closer to my goal. As I progressed, the [Herculean Physique] dulled the pain, reducing it to a manageable level.

With each stroke, the magic circle took shape, its intricate patterns glowing softly as the ink bonded with my skin. The process was grueling, but after what felt like hours, I finally completed the engraving. I sat back, panting and covered in sweat, but a sense of accomplishment washed over me as I looked at the glowing circle on my forearm.

At first, the pain had been nearly unbearable, but as predicted, the [Herculean Physique] reduced it significantly. Within minutes, the pain had subsided completely, leaving only a faint tingling sensation. The magic circle was now a permanent part of me, a conduit for my psychokinetic abilities.

The following day, I was eager to test the effectiveness of my newly inscribed magic circle. I started with small objects, using my mind to lift and manipulate them with ease. The engraved circle acted as a constant focus, allowing me to channel my powers without the need to constantly redraw or memorize the spell. Encouraged by my success, I decided to push my limits.

In the corner of my study, I had a large metal chest filled with books and supplies. It weighed approximately 200 kilograms—a formidable challenge for any mage. I stood before the chest, focusing on the engraved circle on my arm. Taking a deep breath, I activated the magic circle, feeling the familiar surge of power as it flowed through me.

I extended my hand towards the chest, visualizing it rising into the air.

"Lift," I commanded, my voice steady and filled with intent.