The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Tiamat.

The name itself carries weight—a primordial force that predates understanding, a being of utter chaos.

Her legend is old, older than time itself, and her roots extend into the deepest corners of both mythology and the human psyche.

In Earth's ancient myths, Tiamat is often depicted as a chaos deity, a dragon of the seas whose existence embodies the formless abyss from which all things arise.

She is both the beginning and the end, the primeval source of existence, but also the embodiment of destruction.

In our modern understanding, she's not just a dragon.

She's a symbol of what lies beyond comprehension, of the dark truths that exist behind the neat curtains of civilization.

Tiamat represents that which cannot be controlled, the unruly and unpredictable nature of creation itself.

The untamed wilds of nature, the fierce storms, and the depths of the oceans that hold secrets too dark and too vast for the human mind to grasp—all of it is Tiamat.

Philosophically, Tiamat is entropy.

She is the force that defies order, that cannot be made to fit within human-made boxes of understanding and explanation.

We as humans strive for knowledge, for power, for control over our environments, but Tiamat is the reminder of our limitations.

She exists as the proof that there are forces in this universe that do not yield, that cannot be bargained with.

She is the embodiment of the chaos that lurks behind the fragile semblance of order—the reminder that for all our efforts, the abyss is always there, waiting.

Just like Goetia—who sought to eradicate humanity in favor of a more 'worthy' species—Tiamat embodies the chaos that humans inherently fear, but also rely on.

Because from chaos comes evolution.

From darkness comes light.

Humanity's triumphs have always been born from the crucible of chaos, but unlike Goetia, Tiamat is not seeking an alternative to humanity—she is indifferent, a cosmic force that has no moral compass.

She simply is.

The world exists, life evolves, and in the end, everything returns to her, the abyss that waits patiently to reclaim it all.

Standing before her now, I couldn't help but marvel at her terrible majesty.

Her massive, serpentine body twisted and coiled as though she was the embodiment of the storm itself.

The moonlight, cast in sickly hues by the four moons above, shimmered across her dark scales, which appeared almost liquid in the glow—constantly shifting, constantly changing, like a living night sky.

Her eyes, each as large as a grown man, bore into us—there was no mercy in them, no recognition.

Only emptiness.

Eight wings unfurled from her back, stretching into the sky like colossal, grotesque banners.

Each wing was lined with writhing tentacles, tipped with sharp hooks that gleamed with some kind of corrosive substance that sizzled as it dripped onto the barren earth below.

Her maw opened, revealing rows upon rows of teeth that looked more like jagged mountains than anything belonging to a living creature.

The sheer size of her was staggering—even the largest of buildings would seem dwarfed by her presence.

This was a being not meant for the human world. She belonged to something older, something darker.

The ground seemed to tremble beneath us, the sheer weight of her presence pushing down on everything around. It felt like the air itself was bending, kneeling in submission before her.

This was Tiamat—not just a being of chaos, but the embodiment of a force that defied understanding.

There was no reasoning with something like this.

No negotiation.

Only survival—if that was even possible.

Aurelia and Anastasia were still unconscious, their bodies encased in the shimmering, purple barrier that Lyan had conjured.

I glanced briefly at them, my mind racing.

The sight of them, vulnerable and helpless, sent a cold fury through me.

I had to protect them—no matter what.

With a flick of my wrist, I summoned two skeletal figures.

The magic surged through me effortlessly, dark and cold as always.

The skeletons emerged from the ground, their empty eye sockets glowing faintly as they moved to obey my unspoken command.

They lifted the barrier, which had transformed into a physical, crystalline sphere, and began to carry it away. I didn't know where they would take it—just somewhere far, far away from the monstrosity before us. Anywhere would be safer than here.

Lyan watched, his eyes widening slightly as he took in what I'd done.

"You... you modified my magic in a glimpse?" he said, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

I didn't respond immediately.

There wasn't time for explanations or for pride.

I had analyzed the spell, altered it, and done what needed to be done.

The efficiency was all that mattered.

"Focus, Lyan," I said coldly, my eyes never leaving Tiamat.

"There's no time for awe."

He nodded, his expression hardening as we both turned our attention back to the being before us.

Tiamat had spread her massive wings, her gaze locked onto us. Her presence was overwhelming—like a shadow that swallowed all light, all hope. I could feel my instincts screaming at me to run, to flee. But there was nowhere to run to, no place that would be safe from her.

Lyan and I exchanged a glance.

In that moment, no words were needed.

We both knew what this meant.

We both knew what we faced.

This was likely the end—the biggest trial we had ever faced, perhaps the final one.

I gave him a small, humorless smile. "Looks like we drew the short straws," I said, my voice barely audible over the howling wind.

He snorted, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips. "Seems that way," he replied. There was a tightness in his expression, a determination that mirrored my own. We had faced death before—but this was different. This was beyond anything we had faced, beyond any calculation, any plan. And yet, here we were.

Before either of us could make a move, a sound filled the air—a voice, deep and resonant.

It wasn't in our minds.

It was external, vibrating through the air, through the earth, through our very bones.

The voice of Tiamat.

"Who... are you?"

The question was simple, almost innocuous, but the effect was immediate. It felt as if the words had pierced straight into my soul, tearing through the carefully constructed barriers I had spent my life building.

I froze, my mind suddenly flooded with memories, images flashing before my eyes.

I saw myself—back on Earth. A mechanical engineering professor, efficient, perfect, devoid of passion. I saw the cold, sterile classroom, the blank faces of students who barely listened, the papers I graded with mechanical precision. There was no fire, no drive.

I had been perfect—perfectly hollow.

Then, I saw my life as Draven.

The battles, the research, the lectures I had given at the Magic Tower University. The power I had accumulated, the enemies I had made.

The people who hated me still hated me.

And for what?

What had I accomplished?

Who was I?

The question echoed in my mind, relentless.

.

.

Who am I?

But then, I heard a voice beside me. Lyan—his voice steady, unwavering.

"My name is Lyan," he said, his gaze fixed on Tiamat, his eyes blazing with determination.

"I was a bookkeeper, back on Earth. I'm here to protect the world, no... to protect my niece from danger. And to avenge the purpose me and my fallen comrades have been striving for ever since we stepped into this hellish quest."

I turned to look at him, my eyes widening slightly.

There it was—the answer.

His reason for being here, his purpose.

It was so simple, so clear.

A flame that burned within him, something that drove him forward even in the face of this monstrosity.

I realized then—that was what I lacked.

I had power, I had knowledge, but I had no reason, no purpose.

I had been drifting, directionless, my actions driven by nothing more than a cold, mechanical desire to grow stronger.

Under the guise of saving the world?

But strength without purpose was meaningless.

And now, faced with Tiamat, that truth was laid bare.

Tiamat's gaze shifted, her eyes locking onto me.

Her voice echoed once more, the question reverberating through my very soul.

"Who... are you?"

Memories flooded my mind again, scenes of my life—of Dravis Granger, the man who had once existed in the modern world and now entered this body, and of Draven, the man I had become.

The owner of this body.

Who was I now?

Am I Dravis?

Or am I Draven?

Or was I something else entirely?

I look again towards Lyan and remember a word.

"A Bookkeeper,"

Ah...

I see...

The answer came to me, slowly at first, then with growing clarity.

It didn't need to be a name.

It didn't need to be a title.

What mattered was what I chose to be, what I chose to do with the power I had.

I felt a smile tug at my lips, a low chuckle escaping me.

The assassin's attire I wore began to shift somehow, the shadows peeling away, replaced by the familiar black robes of a professor.

My posture straightened, my eyes narrowing with renewed focus.

The cold, ruthless air that had always defined me returned, the weight of uncertainty lifting from my shoulders.

I looked up at Tiamat, my voice clear, unwavering.

"I am a professor," I said, the words carrying across the barren landscape. "That is me, Draven Arcanum Drakhan,"

"And I'm here to protect the Queen—and kill you."