The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Vera stiffened at the sound, the temperature in the courtyard seeming to drop with every syllable. The voice was unmistakable—low, commanding, and filled with a dark power that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Draven.

Modric instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, his eyes darting toward Vera. She could see the tension in his posture, the barely restrained anger that simmered beneath the surface. He was ready to fight, but Vera had been in enough situations to know that charging headfirst into a confrontation with Draven would be a grave mistake.

Draven was not a man who needed to raise his voice or his hand to command fear. His very presence was enough to shatter the resolve of most men.

"Lord Draven," Vera called out, her voice firm though she felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. "I am Vera, leader of the Crown Cavaliers. We come under direct orders from Her Majesty, the Queen."

There was a long, heavy pause. The doors of the mansion creaked open wider, revealing nothing but darkness inside. A cold wind swept through the courtyard, making the banners of the Drakhan family flutter violently, like restless spirits.

"You bring the Queen's orders," Draven's voice echoed from the shadowed interior, as though he were speaking from every direction at once. "But do you bring her intentions? Or are you merely the hand of a pawn?"

Modric took a step forward, his sword half-drawn, but Vera shot him a sharp look. "Hold your ground," she hissed. "Do not provoke him."

"Do not provoke him?" Modric muttered under his breath, his voice laced with frustration. "He's playing games with us, Vera."

Before Vera could respond, the ground beneath them trembled, and the air seemed to warp, distorting the courtyard around them. The world tilted slightly, as though reality itself was shifting. Vera's heart raced, her senses screaming that something was terribly wrong.

Then, with a sudden lurch, everything changed.

The Drakhan knights that had surrounded them moments ago were gone, vanished as though they had never been there. The grand mansion and its towering gates dissolved into nothingness, leaving Vera standing alone in a vast, empty field. The golden light of the sun had been replaced by a dark, oppressive sky that seemed to press down on her with a suffocating weight.

She spun around, her eyes wild as she searched for Modric and the other knights. "Modric!" she called, her voice echoing in the eerie silence. But there was no answer. No sound at all. Just her, standing alone in a world that felt wrong—twisted.

Fear clawed at her chest, but she forced herself to breathe, to think. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. "Draven," she whispered, her voice steadying as the realization sank in. "This is an illusion."

"Very perceptive," Draven's voice came again, soft and dangerous, as though he were standing right behind her. "But can you escape it?"

Vera's hands clenched into fists, her heart pounding as she forced herself to focus. This was Draven's magic, a mind game meant to break her resolve, to test her. She closed her eyes, grounding herself in the steady rhythm of her breathing, just as she had been trained to do. Her senses expanded, reaching out for the threads of magic that bound this illusion together.

She had dealt with powerful magic before, but Draven's was on another level—refined, precise, and overwhelming.

Suddenly, she felt something shift in the air. A presence behind her.

Vera's eyes snapped open, and she spun around, only to be met with Modric's terrified face. He was there, standing just a few feet away, his sword drawn and trembling in his hands. But his eyes—his eyes were wide with fear, darting around as if he were trapped in his own nightmare.

"Vera," he whispered, his voice hoarse, barely a breath. "They're gone… all of them…"

"It's not real," Vera said quickly, taking a step toward him. "Modric, listen to me. It's an illusion—Draven is manipulating us."

But Modric's eyes didn't focus on her. They were distant, filled with a panic she had never seen in him before. "I can't… I can't see them, Vera. Where are they? Where did they go?"

"Modric!" Vera shouted, grabbing his arm and shaking him. "Snap out of it! It's a trick!"

Modric's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he looked around wildly. "He took them… He took them all…"

Vera cursed under her breath, realizing that whatever Draven was doing, Modric couldn't break free from it. He was trapped in his own mind, his worst fears playing out in front of him. She had to end this. Now.

"Draven!" Vera shouted, her voice filled with fury. "Enough of these games! Show yourself!"

The world around her rippled, as if the fabric of reality itself was bending to her will. The dark sky above seemed to split, and the ground beneath her feet cracked. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the illusion shattered.

The courtyard of the Drakhan mansion snapped back into place around her, solid and real once more. The Drakhan knights stood where they had been, their cold visors reflecting the sunlight. Modric was at her side, though his sword hand still trembled, his face pale with the remnants of fear. Vera took a slow breath, steadying herself. Draven hadn't moved an inch.

"You have a strong will," Draven's voice drifted toward her, and this time, he appeared from the darkness of the mansion's entrance, stepping into the light with a cold grace. He was as striking as the stories said—his short, neatly combed hair gleaming like black onyx, and his piercing blue eyes seeming to cut through the air like a blade.

Vera's breath caught in her throat despite herself. His presence was overwhelming, not just because of his magic, but because of who he was. The stories hadn't done him justice. He wasn't just dangerous; he was… captivating.

"Impressive," Draven said calmly, his voice smooth and even as he approached her. "Not many can break through my illusions so easily."

"It was unnecessary," Vera shot back, her voice steadier now. "We came to speak, not to be tested."

Draven's lips curled into a faint, almost amused smile. "Tested? No, Lady Vera. I simply needed to ensure you understood the nature of the power you're dealing with." Stay updated through mvl

Modric, still shaken, managed to find his voice. "This… this was all in our minds?" he asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

"Indeed," Draven replied without looking at him. "I haven't lifted a finger. What you experienced was nothing more than a projection of your own fears. A harmless exercise."

Harmless. The word rang in Vera's ears, and she felt the anger rise in her chest again. To him, this was all a game, a display of control. But she couldn't let her emotions cloud her judgment now. They still had a mission to complete.

Vera straightened, regaining her composure, though her heart still raced from the encounter. "We are here under orders from Her Majesty, the Queen," she repeated, her voice cold and formal. "She wishes to express her immediate gratitude for what you have done—both at the royal banquet and in the northern Icevern territory with the Goblin King subjugation."

Draven's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes at the mention of the queen. He nodded once, his demeanor calm, almost indifferent. "The Queen has been most generous with her praise," he said softly, his eyes locking onto Vera's. "I am but a loyal servant to the crown."

Vera wasn't sure what she had expected—resistance, perhaps, or some form of negotiation. But Draven's acceptance of the Queen's summons was almost too calm. Too easy.

"I will prepare for my departure immediately," Draven said, turning toward the looming figure of Alfred, his butler, who had appeared silently behind him. "Alfred, see that the carriage is made ready. We leave for the capital at once."

"Of course, my lord," Alfred said with a bow, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

Vera blinked, her mind spinning. She had braced herself for a battle of wits, for resistance and manipulation, but Draven had simply accepted the Queen's orders without question. It left her feeling… unbalanced, as if there was something she was missing.

"Why… so willing?" she asked, unable to stop the words from slipping out.

Draven turned back to her, his expression as inscrutable as ever. "Her Majesty's gratitude is not something I take lightly," he said, his voice smooth, almost warm. "And I am always at the service of the crown. After all, loyalty is the foundation upon which power is built."

Vera nodded slowly, watching as Draven's piercing blue eyes lingered on her for just a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the mansion, leaving Vera standing in the courtyard, the weight of the encounter still pressing down on her like a cold hand.