The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"Yes," I replied, my voice even. "But perhaps not as flashy."

I glanced at Lyan, his eyes narrowing as he began to recognize the seriousness of my intent.

Perhaps this would be the first time for me to go all out since arriving in this world.

I knew it had to be.

I had faced many challenges, from the dungeonification incident to the trials in the necromantic caverns, but this was different—this was Tiamat, and anything less than my full power would be nothing more than an insult to her terrifying majesty.

"Blood for iron, and iron for will," I began, my voice carrying through the chaos, resonating with power as it filled the air.

"In darkness forged, a fate to fulfill. By bones of earth and breath of fire, I call on forces that chaos inspires. Echoes of void, from shadows deep, Grant me the power that slumbers in sleep. Let all boundaries shatter and break, Upon this ground, the abyss shall wake. Stars be my witness, moons mark the sky, In the name of chaos, I rise, I defy. Unleash the storm, let fury be sworn, To The Chaos's end, a new dawn is born!"

The words flowed from me, a chant that seemed to rise from deep within, reaching out to the ancient forces that bound this world and the abyss beyond. My pens—my tools of creation—glowed brighter with every syllable, each of them resonating with the power I invoked.

Magic circles, symbols etched in blinding light, burst into existence around me. They hovered in the air, overlapping, shifting hues that danced between menacing shades of red, black, deep blue, and shimmering silver. It felt as if reality itself had begun to bend under the weight of the incantation, twisted by the ancient power of the words I spoke. My body became simultaneously lighter and heavier, a strange contradiction as new magic circles seared into my skin, leaving behind intricate tattoos that glowed faintly, pulsating with raw energy.

The ground beneath us quaked violently, and more magic circles appeared, their radiant lines etching themselves deep into the earth. A low, resonant hum filled the air, vibrating with a frequency that seemed to blur the line between life and death. The power within the abyss responded, drawn by the thinning of the barriers that separated our world from the chaotic unknown.

The undead answered my call.

The Goblin King emerged first—a grotesque figure towering above, its once mundane green flesh now imbued with a sinister, oily sheen that shimmered with a dark luster. Its eyes glowed with a deeper malice, a hunger that hadn't been there before. The Goblin Lord Devil Servant followed, the twisted horns on its head elongated, its aura darker and more commanding, emanating a powerful presence that had become something almost regal in its darkness.

The Ascended Minotaur Devil Servant, now standing almost twice its original height, stepped forward, its fur turned pitch black, muscles bulging grotesquely, and its eyes glowed with abyssal fury—a rage that seemed unquenchable, forged in the fires of chaos itself.

And then, there was the Ebon Devourer Devil Servant—a monstrosity from the depths of chaos, its form ever-shifting, growing larger and larger as it absorbed the abundant mana of malice and chaos that filled this cursed place. It loomed even more colossal than when I'd faced it during the dungeonification of the Magic Tower University. Its shadowy form seemed to pulse and writhe with Tiamat's influence, almost as if the very abyss was feeding it.

Good, now the next phase.

Flick!

A flick of my fingers echoed through the vast landscape—a simple gesture, yet it felt as if the entire world reverberated with that sound. The air shimmered, and dozens upon dozens of new magic circles appeared, hovering over the rocky ground, swirling and glowing with power.

My status board hovered before me, the word "Necromancy" glowing brightly:

[Necromancy: S+].

A smirk tugged at my lips. I'd reached a level beyond anything I'd imagined, and I wasn't about to waste it.

The earth cracked and split, and from it, they came—hundreds of undead, each one answering my summons, each one filled with the elements of chaos that surrounded us. Fire goblins, with skin aflame, their hollow eyes glowing with an inner fire. Ice trolls, their massive forms glistening with frost, and golden skeletons clad in tarnished armor that shimmered with the corrupted brilliance of this hellish landscape.

The Goblin King raised his staff and sword high, its crude tip glowing with dark energy, and in response, more of his kind answered. Hundreds—no, thousands—of undead goblins emerged, ranks of shamans, champions, and hobgoblins, a tide of undeath that spread across the landscape like a flood. The skeletal figures of warriors, infused with elements, advanced, their armor clattering as they moved in unison. Each one was a soldier, a pawn, ready to lay down whatever semblance of life they possessed for my command.

Their strength wasn't ordinary. The ambient mana of Tiamat's abyss had enriched them, transformed them into more than just shambling husks. They were faster, stronger—their very forms were reinforced by the same dark energy that threatened to drown us all. And they stood, awaiting my command, an army of the dead ready to face the chaos.

Lyan had been silent, watching as my ritual reached its crescendo, his eyes widening with a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"It might not be as flashy, my ass," he muttered, his voice carrying just enough for me to hear.

I couldn't help the low chuckle that escaped my lips.

"We both have an army now," I remarked coolly, my eyes meeting his. "Let's see if we can make use of it."

Lyan's sword glowed with ethereal light, a deep purple aura that seemed to dance around the blade. He stood tall, his form enveloped in the power he had summoned. He was a different kind of warrior—less inclined to theatrics, but no less dangerous for it. His power was raw, primal, his blade an extension of his will.

My own swords—two curved, wickedly sharp blades—hovered beside me, the pens still swirling in the air, glowing with power. I reached out, feeling the familiar weight of the hilts in my hands, the cold, lethal energy that hummed beneath the surface. It was time.

The battlefield was set—my undead army, infused with elemental powers, flanked by Lyan's illusionary warriors, all poised, all ready. And opposite us, Tiamat—the Dragon God, the embodiment of chaos, her vast form towering over everything, her presence a void that threatened to consume the world itself.

For a moment, there was silence—the kind that falls before a storm, the air thick with tension, every heartbeat like a drumbeat echoing in the void. I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the cold resolve settling over me like an old friend.

The world seemed to hold its breath—my gaze locked on Tiamat, her eyes glinting with a dark, unfathomable intelligence, and I knew, without a doubt, that this was it. Everything we had faced, every struggle, every loss—it had led to this moment. The challenge of a lifetime, the battle against something that should not exist.

ROAR————————!!!!!!!!!!!

Tiamat's roar shattered the silence—a deafening, earth-shaking sound that resonated with the very core of my being. It was the roar of an ancient power, a declaration of battle, a challenge to all who dared stand before her. Her wings spread wide, the grotesque tentacles writhing, and her eyes fixed on us, filled with the promise of destruction.

Beside me, Lyan let out his own roar—a primal, feral sound that spoke of defiance, of the will to fight against even the most impossible of odds. It was the sound of a man who had faced death and refused to bow.

And then, without thinking, without hesitation, I joined him—my voice a cold, calculated battle cry, filled with every ounce of determination I had left. A sound that cut through the roar of chaos, a promise that I would not back down.

The armies moved, the ground trembling beneath the weight of hundreds of undead feet, the clash of metal on metal filling the air. The world erupted into chaos.

And the battle against the Dragon God began.