The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"Why did you do it?" I asked, my voice low and calm, almost a whisper.

Ramia flinched at the question, her eyes darting to the floor as if the answer would somehow be written in the cracks of the stone beneath her feet. She didn't respond, just shook her head, her lips trembling.

"I didn't know. I didn't… I don't…" she stammered, her voice breaking with every word.

Another step closer. I was now within arm's reach, watching every twitch, every subtle movement. "You didn't know?" I repeated, my tone still calm, but carrying a weight that suffocated her excuses.

"I didn't!" Her voice rose, panicked, her fingers tightening into fists. "I was told to—"

I cut her off. "You were told to do what? Trigger the dungeonification? Summon demons to tear through your classmates? To sit there and pretend you're just a victim?"

Her eyes widened, and she backed up instinctively, her breath coming in shallow bursts. "I don't know what you mean—"

"You don't know?" I interrupted again, taking another step forward. "You didn't notice the slight hesitation in your own movements when you cast that first spell, the way you channeled your mana, too precise for a novice. You don't know why your robes, while torn, don't have the same burn marks as the others caught in the crossfire?"

Ramia froze, her mouth opening, then closing, as if the words she wanted to speak were lodged in her throat.

I leaned in just slightly, just enough to make her feel trapped without ever touching her. "Your hands, Ramia. I've been watching them this entire time. They're too steady for someone who's supposedly caught in a magical storm. And then there's the way you positioned yourself before the battle started. Too perfect of a spot, right out of the path of the major damage zones."

Her eyes darted back to me, wide and terrified.

"You've trained your mana flow. It's not something you could've learned in a mere few weeks or months. No. That kind of precision comes from years of practice, doesn't it? And your reactions—every time someone neared you, you flinched as if you were afraid they'd discover something. You weren't afraid of the battle, or the professors, or even the monsters.

You were afraid of being found out. And that is why you kept your distance."

"I— I didn't—" she stammered, but I pressed on, my voice gaining momentum as I spoke, breaking down every defense she tried to put up.

"Then there's your magic. I sensed it before I even walked into the room. You were controlling the demonic energy, weaving it into the natural mana currents of the tower. Not just using it, but manipulating it. That takes skill, control. More than any novice should have.

And then…" I took a final step toward her, my voice dropping to barely a whisper, but with a sharp edge. "You keep reaching for your pocket. What are you hiding, Ramia?"

Her hand instinctively moved to her pocket, a small movement, but it was enough. Her eyes flashed with panic, and in that moment, she knew she had been caught.

"It was Professor Armandra, wasn't it?" I asked quietly, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Ramia froze, her entire body stiffening.

"Armandra. She's the one who told you to do this." I leaned closer, watching her squirm under the weight of her guilt. "The precision, the control, the subtlety of your magic—it all points to her. She's been teaching you in secret, hasn't she? Guiding you. And now you're here, her little pawn, caught in the middle of something you barely understand."

Ramia's composure broke. Tears welled in her eyes as she slumped to the floor, her body trembling violently. "I… I didn't… I didn't want to… she made me. She said I had no choice."

Her voice cracked as the truth spilled from her, the weight of her fear crashing down on her all at once. Read the latest on M-V-L

"Professor Armandra promised me power, protection. She said if I did this, if I helped her, she would make sure I was safe. She said there was no way to survive without her. She—she lied to me."

I straightened, my cold gaze fixed on her. "Of course she lied to you. That's what manipulators do."

Amberine, Elara, and Maris watched in stunned silence as Ramia's confession unfolded before them. Amberine's eyes burned with fury, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Elara's gaze, cold and calculating, flicked to me, then back to Ramia.

"We should have dealt with you back then," Elara said, her voice as cold as the air that surrounded her. There was no emotion in her words, just the stark clarity of her realization. "You were never trustworthy."

Amberine, on the other hand, was visibly shaking with rage. "We fought for you," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "We defended you."

But I said nothing. I watched as the emotions roiled within Amberine and Elara, as they wrestled with their own feelings of betrayal and anger. Ramia's involvement with Armandra was a betrayal not only to me but to them as well. They had trusted her. Defended her. And now, they were left with the bitter taste of her deception.

My attention shifted as I felt a faint, familiar pulse in the air. The subtle hum of mana signatures—scattered, weak, but present. I closed my eyes briefly, reaching out with my mana detection to trace the source.

It didn't take long. In one of the nearby chambers—the Magic Combat Club room, just a short distance from here—there were several students. Their mana was faint, but alive. Injured, exhausted, but alive.

Amberine, Elara, and Maris had done well in defending them. The battle with the three professors had taken its toll, but the students they had fought for were still breathing, still clinging to life.

"Knights," I ordered, my voice cutting through the silence. "Secure the students in the Magic Combat Club room."

Garren gave a sharp nod, immediately directing his men to follow the command. The Drakhan knights moved with disciplined efficiency, securing the area and ensuring the injured students would be safe.

As they did, I observed the remains of the battle—scattered monster corpses, shattered walls, and the faint glimmer of mana stones lying around the wreckage. I could piece together the events easily enough. The Magic Combat Club had been overwhelmed by the monsters that had poured into the tower, fighting valiantly to defend themselves.

But they had exhausted themselves in the process, and the professors had ambushed them at their weakest.

They had been fending off the monsters while the professors struck. The magic stones that littered the floor told the story well enough—each one a remnant of the monsters they had slain. But there were too many for the students to have held them all off. They had fought until they could fight no more, and it was in that moment of vulnerability that the professors had chosen to strike.

It was a calculated move, a tactical ambush. One I would've expected from them. But the students had held on long enough for Amberine and the others to intervene. Well done.

"Secure everything," I ordered the knights, my voice sharp and precise. "Take the students. Leave nothing behind."

They responded with swift action, securing the injured and the remnants of the battle. The tower, though still reeling from the chaos of the dungeonification, was slowly returning to a semblance of order.

But there was something more. Something lurking just beneath the surface of all this. My mana detection picked up the faintest trace of something—something elusive, hidden within the upper floors of the tower. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable.

Mana detection was a skill every mage of moderate caliber should possess. The ability to sense the flow of mana around you, to feel the presence of other magic users, was a basic requirement of any magician worth their salt. With it, you could detect the presence of others nearby—whether they were enemies or allies, mages or monsters.

But there was more to it than that. For a mage of my caliber, mana detection wasn't just a tool. It was a weapon. With enough control and precision, you could feel not only the presence of others but their very essence—their strength, their power, their intentions. You could read the subtle fluctuations in their mana flow, understanding the intricacies of their magic before they even cast a spell.

In this tower, where mana had been scattered and distorted by the dungeonification, most mages would struggle to detect anything beyond the immediate area. The chaotic flow of energy made it difficult to sense anything with clarity. But for me, it was no challenge. I had honed my control over magic and mana to such a degree that the turbulence barely registered.

I could feel everything. Every fluctuation of mana, every trace of energy that moved through the tower. And above us, something was waiting. Something powerful.

I opened my eyes, the trace of a smile playing at my lips. "Oh. So you've been watching as well,"