The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Lancefroz Avron von Icevern.

I took in the details meticulously, my eyes sweeping over his form. His face, though stern, had a certain nobility to it. Sharp, chiseled features marked him as a man of discipline. A scar ran from his left temple down to his jaw, a relic of a past encounter that he had clearly survived through sheer willpower. His eyes were a piercing blue, the kind that seemed to see right through a person.

But behind that penetrating gaze, I noticed a glimmer of weariness, perhaps a hint of the burden he carried as one of the kingdom's strongest knights.

His stance was impeccable—feet shoulder-width apart, back straight, hands resting casually but alertly by his sides. Everything about him screamed readiness and control. Observing him, I couldn't help but utter under my breath, "As expected of the one rumored to be the strongest knight on the continent."

But this man before me wasn't Sophie's father. He was her elder brother, the true Earl of Icevern. The realization added another layer to my understanding of the political landscape. I needed to tread carefully.

As I finished my observations, a voice interjected from beside me, dripping with sarcastic amusement. "Well, well, if it isn't the magic professor famous for his ruthlessness."

I turned to see Count Valen, a man with slick blonde hair and an air of arrogance that could fill the grand hall. His reputation as a cunning and influential noble preceded him, known as much for his sharp wit as his political maneuvering. He was also the father of Elara, the child prodigy in magic. My eyes scanned him just as I had Earl Icevern.

Valen's immaculate appearance was almost comical against the small inconsistencies that betrayed his morning. There was a slight smear of jam near the corner of his mouth, his vest was buttoned incorrectly, and a faint bruise on his knee suggested a recent slip. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't completely mask his humanity.

"Valen," I said, my tone neutral but my words pointed. "At least eat your breakfast properly and try entering your carriage without slipping before attempting sarcasm."

Valen's face flushed crimson, his composure cracking momentarily as he struggled to contain his anger. "You—" he began, his voice shaking with indignation.

But I shrugged him off, uninterested in further provoking him. His anger was a tool, one that I could use or ignore as I saw fit. "Save your breath, Valen," I added, turning away from him dismissively. "We have more important matters to attend to."

Before the tension could escalate further, three more individuals approached from different directions, each introducing themselves with the characteristic arrogance of the great families of Regaria despite not the head attending. Lady Mirabelle of House Blackthorn moved with an air of icy elegance, her every step calculated and precise.

Her sharp intellect was evident in her piercing gaze and the faint smirk that played on her lips.

"Lord Draven," Mirabelle began, her voice smooth as silk and laced with subtle mockery. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Nor did I," I replied, scanning their expressions and body language. They all had their guards up, masks firmly in place. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, each word a potential weapon in the verbal sparring that was to come.

Next was Lord Aric of House Falken, his rugged appearance betraying his reputation as a formidable magic warrior. His presence was imposing, a stark contrast to the delicate elegance of Mirabelle. "It seems the great families of Regaria have been summoned for this gathering," I observed aloud, earning a few knowing glances.

"Indeed," Aric said, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through the hall. "It's rare for all of us to be in one place."

Baroness Isolde of House Windmere joined us last, her eyes glinting with amusement and cunning. Known for her political acumen and subtle strategies, she was a force to be reckoned with in the shadows of the court. "A rare occasion, indeed," she echoed, a sly smile on her lips. "Perhaps we should make the most of it."

The banter was sharp, each word a carefully measured weapon. "I trust the journey here was uneventful?" I asked, my tone polite but distant. A purposeful sarcasm.

Mirabelle tilted her head slightly, studying me. "It was... enlightening," she replied, her voice dripping with hidden meanings.

Aric chuckled, a low sound that hinted at danger. "Enlightening, yes. The roads are treacherous these days, wouldn't you agree, Lord Draven?"

I met his gaze evenly. "The roads are what they always have been," I replied. "Unpredictable and full of surprises."

Isolde's smile widened, sensing the underlying currents in our exchange. "Indeed, much like the political landscape we navigate."

I see.

It's clear.

It's not just one person that sent assassins on my way.

It's all of them.

As we continued our exchange, I assessed my situation with a growing sense of clarity. The concentration of magical mana and pressure in this room was surreal. Each of these individuals possessed strength far beyond my current capabilities. It was a gathering of monsters in the guise of nobles.

Normal people might have their legs trembling, eyes darting back and forth, or even end up vomiting in the face of the pressure emitted by these people. But I guess it's not surprising.

In the game, they are part of the main plot and play crucial roles, but some of them need to get their strength properly controlled.

The original Draven's supreme mental strength had been his only shield against such overwhelming power. Without it, he would have been devoured by these predators long ago.

Annoyance, despise, and other negative emotions boiled within me, remnants of the original Draven's feelings. I forced myself to remain calm, reminding myself of a truth I had come to embrace:

'The strongest person is the one who can control and maintain their composure, regardless of the situation.'

Yes.

Even if it's anger and hatred towards the person who killed your family.

Calmness is key.

Earl Icevern's voice cut through the air, bringing the informal conversations to a halt. "We are not here to discuss trivial matters," he began, his tone commanding. "A new threat has emerged—the Deadly Hollows. Reports indicate that there may be more to come in the future. I hope none of you have a hand in these incidents."

The room fell silent, each noble carefully considering their response. I noticed there was no mention of the engagement, confirming my suspicion that it had been a ruse, possibly orchestrated by Valen to draw me here. I let out a quiet sigh, resigning myself to focus on the more pressing discussion.

Valen, never one to miss an opportunity to provoke, spoke up. "It's rather convenient for some," he said, glancing at me, "to use the threat of the Deadly Hollows as a distraction from their own shortcomings."

Mirabelle followed his lead, her voice laced with mockery. "Lord Draven, didn't you once boast about a groundbreaking magical research? We've seen little of it so far."

Aric joined in, his tone derisive. "Yes, I recall. Something about revolutionizing magic, wasn't it? How's that coming along?"

The original Draven's rage bubbled up within me, but I forced a smile, maintaining my calm exterior. "Patience," I replied smoothly. "The results you're waiting for will be ready in two months. I assure you, it will be worth the wait."

Their mocking expressions faltered slightly, my calm confidence catching them off guard. The conversation shifted back to the threat of the Deadly Hollows, but I could feel their eyes on me, their curiosity piqued by my claim.

As the discussion continued, I maintained my silence, focusing on absorbing the details and planning my next moves. The political landscape was treacherous, filled with hidden traps and veiled threats. But I was determined to navigate it successfully, no matter the challenges ahead.

The meeting ended without any definitive conclusions, the nobles dispersing with a mix of concern and suspicion. I remained behind, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. The Deadly Hollows were a serious threat, and the political machinations of the great families added another layer of complexity to an already precarious situation.

As I left the grand hall, Alfred joined me, his expression thoughtful. "Master Draven, are you alright?"

I nodded, a faint smile on my lips. "Yes, Alfred. It seems we have much to prepare for in the coming months."

I guess I need to finish whatever research the original Draven was having his hands on, but there is plenty of time.

Let's focus on what's more important right now.

But as I was about to leave, a voice appeared from behind me.

The very voice of the person that welcomed me to come here when I arrived.

"Draven," A very soft voice belongs to the person greatly loved by the original Draven.