The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Panting heavily, I could feel the pain searing through every fiber of my body. My left arm—gone again. I could barely grip the sword in my right hand, the blade heavy as lead, even with [Herculean Physique]. Where was my other sword? Did it get lost in the explosion or corroded by Tiamat's miasma? I couldn't tell. It wasn't important. None of it was important.

The biggest question: Did we win?

I struggled to open my eyes, my lids weighed down by exhaustion. Slowly, the world came into focus, my vision gathering clarity bit by bit. And there she was—the towering, colossal figure of Tiamat, the Dragon God of Chaos. Standing tall, if anything, she looked even more formidable now—like her power had somehow grown. A humorless laugh escaped my lips, a sound that felt entirely out of character.

Was it because I had reached my limit? Or because of how laughably hopeless this situation seemed?

I shifted my gaze to where Lyan stood, still holding himself up.

He had used [Limit Break] twice, if my observations were correct. Incubi weren't naturally strong; their magic was their strength. But his Limit Break was a dangerous gamble, using illusion magic to deceive his body into surpassing its limits—muscles, mana absorption, every aspect of his being pushed beyond its natural capacity. His body was beginning to crumble, the signs unmistakable. Parts of his flesh had turned to dust, slowly drifting away. He was fading. His resolve was admirable, but his condition spoke of inevitable doom.

This guy… I couldn't help but question in my mind.

What was his real purpose here?

Defeating Tiamat—that much was obvious—but how could he think he could do it alone?

There was no one else here for him, no comrades to rely on.

Could he really hope to win?

Before he met us...

How could he have come this far?

My thoughts halted abruptly when I met his gaze—a gaze unwavering and determined, filled with a strength that came from somewhere I couldn't understand. Despite the state he was in, the agony he must have felt, there was no fear, no hesitation. Just conviction. It struck a chord deep inside me—something that made me want to scoff, but also made me want to stand again.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp protests of my body, forcing my legs to bear my weight. It took everything I had, but I managed to stand, to find my stance once more.

"Hah…" I let out a breath, the air feeling heavy in my lungs. I assessed my mana reserves, tapping into the depths within. Surprisingly, I still had fire and water magic at my disposal—unused.

That was good.

A stroke of luck amidst this nightmare. The magic pens hovered around me—the psychokinesis, devil, water, and fire pens—each flickering dimly, the mana within them nearly depleted. But they were still here, and that meant we still had a chance.

I focused on Lyan, reaching out with my right hand. Water gathered around him, forming an orb that enveloped his body, and for a moment he looked startled. The orb shimmered, and I saw his wounds begin to close, the corrosion slowly reversing, as if time itself had turned back. Lyan's eyes widened, his gaze meeting mine as understanding dawned.

"Healing," he murmured. Then, with a flick of his wrist, I felt a rush of energy, a purplish aura wrapping around me. It wasn't healing magic—no, it was more like an illusion—a trick to fool my nervous system into believing I was uninjured, that I was recovering. Combined with [Herculean Physique], it worked wonders.

A smirk tugged at my lips.

Our styles complemented each other, didn't they?

His illusions, my control—a strange but effective match.

As strength returned to me, Lyan dashed to my side, his body flickering for a moment before appearing solid again.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of a grin.

I glanced at him, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Do I look fine?"

He chuckled, the sound strained but genuine. "Fair enough. So, what's next?"

I hesitated for a moment, considering our options. Then I asked, "What do you think prevented her from killing us outright?" I glanced at Tiamat. "We lost consciousness, didn't we? For who knows how long. My undead army… all gone, either killed or consumed by her. And yet, here we are."

Lyan frowned, thinking for a moment. Then realization dawned, and I could see it mirrored in his eyes at the same time it struck me.

"A test," we both said, almost in unison.

Tiamat—she was testing us. Challenging us. Not just trying to kill us, but asking… could we defeat her?

Could we stand before her again after all this?

The thought was like a knife to my pride, twisting painfully. My jaw clenched, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Then, as if hearing our thoughts, her voice echoed through the battlefield—a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through the earth, through my very soul.

"You are correct."

The voice made my entire body tense, my heart pounding against my ribs. I glanced at Lyan, his expression just as grim as mine, but neither of us wavered. We had heard it before. We could endure it now.

Tiamat continued, her eyes boring into us. "You, who are the representatives of humanity—the children of hypocrisy. The breed of order and chaos. Show me… how meaningless your struggle is."

As she spoke, a massive orb of chaotic energy began to manifest above her—the same kind of orb that had blasted us into our current, pitiful state. The sheer power radiating from it made the ground tremble, the air vibrate.

So that's not something that she could use just once?

But she could unelash it consecutively?

What a monstrosity.

Lyan glanced at me, a weary smile on his lips. "Looks like we're being challenged."

"Indeed," I replied, my voice cold. Fear had no place here, not anymore. We exchanged a look—the kind of look that spoke of understanding, of unspoken plans. There was only one thing left for us to try, something we hadn't dared before.

We took a deep breath, inhaling as one, and then exhaled.

"[Limit Break]!" Lyan shouted, his voice carrying over the battlefield. I saw him bite down on his lip, drawing blood as he fought against the pain.

My pens moved, creating countless magic circles beneath us, the symbols forming almost instinctively, their glow brightening with every second.

Precision. Focus. Despite everything, despite the exhaustion that clung to us, we moved in sync. There was no need for words—just action. Our mana reserves were depleted, our bodies battered, but there was something left to give—our life force.

It was a dangerous gamble, but against a being like Tiamat, it wasn't a question of whether we should sacrifice our lives. It was the only path forward.

And deep down, I knew—this would work. My grand scheme of magic, combined with Lyan's illusions—the power to maintain order, amplified by the illusion magic that could shape reality itself. With our life force as the catalyst, we could forge something powerful enough to stand against Tiamat.

Tiamat's voice echoed again, a hint of amusement in her tone.

"How interesting. Struggle as you see fit, humans. Let me see the extent of your will."

The magic circles beneath us flared to life, the miasma swirling around, drawn into the circles as if being consumed. Lyan poured every ounce of his mana into the circle before him, his face a mask of concentration. Slowly, a grand magic circle took shape, its glow intensifying with every passing moment.

It was magnificent—a testament to the indomitable spirit of humanity. The circle spanned the battlefield, its intricate layers pulsating with raw energy. Each segment depicted scenes of struggle and triumph—of people reaching out, supporting each other in times of need, of battles fought against impossible odds. Symbols of hope and resilience glowed with radiant light, their luminescence unwavering.

The outermost ring rotated, alive with a soft yet powerful light, a reminder of the hope that never faded, no matter the darkness. It was a masterpiece of magic, a visual embodiment of our refusal to bow to chaos.

"This… this is what we are," I whispered, the words almost lost amidst the roar of power.

"Yeah," Lyan replied, his voice strained but resolute. "This is everything we have."

The energy gathered, the ground trembling beneath us, the magic circle flaring brighter and brighter. And then—the power of both sides clashed.

BOOM———————!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tiamat unleashed her orb of chaos, a massive, swirling mass of destructive energy that shot towards us, its sheer force distorting the air around it. The grand magic circle responded, its light surging upward, meeting the orb head-on. The impact was cataclysmic—a blinding explosion that seemed to consume everything in its path.

For a moment, there was nothing but light and sound—a deafening roar that drowned out all thought, all feeling. The ground split beneath me, the shockwave sending me sprawling, my vision going white as the force of the clash overwhelmed my senses.

And then… nothing.

Blackness.

_

___

I don't know how long I was unconscious, but when I finally came to, pain was the first thing I felt—a dull, aching pain that seemed to fill every part of me. My left arm… gone again, and the rest of my body felt like it had been torn apart and hastily put back together.

I blinked, trying to focus, and the first thing I saw was Aurelia—the Queen, her face streaked with blood, her eyes wide with tears. She was holding me, her grip tight, her voice breaking as she spoke. "You bastard… don't you dare die on me, you fucking bastard."

In the corner of my vision, I saw Anastasia—she was holding Lyan, her face buried in his chest as she cried, her shoulders shaking. He was still unconscious, his body limp, his face pale.

I tried to speak, my voice barely a croak. "Your majesty… did we…" But then I saw it—the sight that made my heart sink.

Above us, Tiamat loomed, her mouth open, energy gathering for a final, devastating breath. My eyes widened in terror. No… I had to protect Aurelia. I had to—

Aurelia's arms tightened around me, her voice cutting through my panic. "Stop it." Her hair, once platinum blonde that turned into fiery red due to her magic trainign with me, now glowed with a majestic, reddish-gold hue. She looked at me, her eyes fierce.

"You saved me too many times. It's my turn now."

Your... Turn...?

But… something inside me resisted.

No—not like this. I wouldn't let her die. Not here. Not now.

Without thinking, I moved. My right hand gripped the sword—the only weapon I had left—and I thrust it into my own chest.

Blood dripped furiously but I have no time to feel pain.

Aurelia's eyes widened, her voice a horrified scream. "What are you—?!"

"Return!" I shouted, my voice echoing across the battlefield. "Return!" The word tore itself from my throat, each repetition growing more desperate, the agony clawing at me. My chest burned with an otherworldly pain, as if my very soul was being ripped from my body. It felt like my existence was unraveling—every nerve, every inch of my being screaming in anguish, the sensation akin to having my spirit peeled away layer by layer, leaving nothing but raw, searing emptiness.

Aurelia's voice broke through, panicked and furious. "Stop! Stop, you bastard! Stop it!" Her hands clung to me, her grip fierce, trying to pull me away from my own blade. Her eyes, usually so defiant, were wide with fear—a fear I had never seen before.

"No," I whispered, my gaze meeting hers, unyielding. "This... is something I must do." I forced the blade deeper, the edges biting, tearing through flesh. The world around me blurred, Aurelia's cries dimming, her face contorting in desperation. This was my resolve—my purpose. Even if it meant this agony, this sacrifice, I would not let her fall. This was my burden to bear, and nothing, not even her pleas, would sway me.

"RETURN————!!!!" I screamed, one last time, my voice breaking as darkness swallowed me whole.