The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The streets of Halewick lay in eerie silence, a hollow emptiness stretching through the ruined city. Not a single guard. No alarms. No hushed whispers of survivors exchanging frantic accounts of the chaos. It was as if the entire place had collectively agreed to forget what had transpired, to ignore the smoldering mark left behind on the scorched wall. The sigil still pulsed faintly, its heat distorting the air in thin, wavering lines. A warning. Or perhaps, a promise.

The wind carried the acrid scent of burnt stone and something more pungent—something unnatural. It wasn't just the destruction left in the wake of the fire, nor the remnants of bodies turned to dust. It was the absence of reaction, the way the city remained still, as if the people within had locked their doors and sealed their windows, hoping ignorance would keep them safe.

Kael adjusted the strap on his shoulder, his hand unconsciously brushing the hilt of his dagger. A small comfort, but not enough to shake the unease coiling in his gut. His eyes swept the empty streets, searching for any sign of life, but there was nothing. Not even the flicker of candlelight in the windows, no hushed voices from the alleys. Just silence.

It felt like a graveyard.

Liora stood beside him, his gaze shifting between the buildings, watching for movement. His stance was relaxed, but Kael knew him well enough to see through the facade. There was a tension in his shoulders, the subtle flex of his fingers near his belt where his daggers rested. He felt it too.

Something was off.

Kael exhaled sharply, watching his breath curl into the cold night air. "This isn't right."

Liora didn't respond immediately. He tilted his head slightly, listening. The silence stretched, pressing down on them like a weight. Then, finally, he said, "They knew this would happen."

Kael frowned. "Who?"

Liora gestured vaguely at the empty streets. "Whoever's pulling the strings. Seyrik, or maybe someone else. This city should be reacting. Guards should be swarming this place, people should be talking, whispering, panicking. But they're not." His voice was quiet, but edged with something cold. "That means they already knew."

Kael didn't like the way that sounded. He rolled his shoulders, trying to push off the tightness building in his chest. "And if they knew, that means they're already ahead of us."

Liora smirked, though there was no amusement in it. "When aren't they?"

Kael didn't reply, because he didn't have an answer.

Instead, his gaze flicked to the archway they had passed through earlier—the ruined structure, blackened from the fire, standing like a skeletal reminder of what had been lost here. And on top of it, perched like a sentry, was the raven.

It had not left. Explore stories on My Virtual Library Empire

Its sleek, ink-black feathers barely moved in the breeze, but its glowing eyes remained locked onto them, unwavering, watching. It tilted its head slightly, as if assessing them, waiting.

Kael narrowed his eyes at it. "You again."

The raven did not respond, of course. It only watched.

Liora followed his gaze, then let out a breath. "Hah. Guess we have our answer."

Kael's lips pressed into a thin line. The last time they had followed the bird, it had led them straight into a death trap. Or, perhaps, to the truth. The two were starting to feel indistinguishable.

"You're seriously suggesting we follow it again?" Kael asked.

Liora's smirk deepened. "Well, it hasn't killed us yet."

Kael shot him a look. "That's not exactly reassuring."

Liora shrugged. "You have a better lead?"

Kael hesitated. He didn't. Not really. Rellios had disappeared, their last solid clue had turned to dust—quite literally—and whoever was orchestrating this was always two steps ahead.

And yet, something about this didn't sit right. The bird wasn't just watching. It was waiting.

As if it knew something they didn't.

Kael exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. He had seen a lot of strange things, but he wasn't about to start trusting a damn bird. And yet…

The raven shifted on its perch, then, with a sudden rustle of wings, took flight. It didn't flee. It didn't vanish into the night like any normal creature might. Instead, it flew ahead, circling once above them before veering north, toward the outskirts of the city.

It wanted them to follow.

Kael muttered a curse under his breath. "I hate this."

Liora scoffed. "You have a better lead?" He kept his voice light, but there was a sharpness beneath it. "Besides, I don't think it's asking."

As if in agreement, the raven took flight, gliding ahead before circling back. Not leaving them. Guiding them.

Kael exhaled through his nose and began moving.

Liora followed, his steps light, deliberate, every movement calculated. The road stretched ahead, winding through the outskirts of Halewick, where the mist thickened, curling around their boots like ghostly fingers. The damp earth squelched beneath their steps, the air heavy with the scent of rain-soaked stone and something else—something older, something stale, as if the land itself had held its breath.

The deeper they walked, the quieter it became.

No distant murmur of the city. No wind rustling through the skeletal remains of the trees. Only the faintest sounds of their own breathing, their own footsteps. The silence was unnatural.

Kael cast a glance at Liora.

He had stopped walking.

Liora's hand hovered near the hilt of his blade, his body slightly turned, head tilted as if listening to something Kael couldn't hear. His expression was unreadable, but his stance said everything.

Kael tightened his grip on his own weapon. "What is it?"

Liora's gaze flicked toward the treeline. He didn't answer immediately, just let the silence stretch between them like a wire pulled too tight. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, barely above a whisper.

"We're not alone."

Kael's skin prickled. He didn't see anything—no movement between the trees, no shapes shifting through the mist—but he felt it. The weight of unseen eyes pressing against his back, the subtle change in the air, as if something had shifted just out of sight.

The raven cawed sharply, breaking the stillness.

Then it veered off toward the outskirts.

Kael forced himself to keep walking, to ignore the way his instincts screamed for him to turn back, to be anywhere but here. Liora moved with him, though his posture remained tense, every step placed carefully, ready to react.

The watchtower emerged through the fog like the jagged ribs of a long-dead beast.

It loomed in the distance, skeletal and broken against the pale sky. The wooden beams were splintered, blackened by fire, and the iron gate at its entrance hung crooked on rusted hinges. The stone foundation had cracked in places, thick vines twisting through the fractures like veins. This place had once been a stronghold, a sentry post standing watch over the outer roads of Halewick.

Now, it was barely standing.

Kael hesitated.

Something was wrong here. More than just abandonment, more than just decay. It was in the air, thick and cloying, something that clung to the back of his throat.

Then the smell hit him.

Blood.

Burned flesh.

Something acrid beneath it all, something chemical, metallic. It curled in his nostrils, heavy, lingering. He had smelled battlefields before. This was worse.

Liora exhaled, his nose wrinkling slightly. "Well. That's unpleasant."

Kael ignored him, stepping carefully over the threshold.

Signs of struggle were everywhere.

Blood smeared the walls in jagged streaks, like something—or someone—had been dragged. Torches had burned out in pools of wax, some still flickering weakly, casting long, writhing shadows across the ruined floor. Broken weapons littered the ground, blades chipped and bent. Some of them were still clutched in severed hands.

Kael's stomach tightened.

This wasn't just an attack.

Whoever had done this had taken their time.

Liora crouched near a fallen helmet, running his fingers along its dented surface. "This was recent."

Kael nodded. The blood was dark, congealed, but not entirely dry. Hours old, at most.

Then he heard it.

A faint wheeze.

Barely audible over the oppressive silence, a ragged breath rattling through what sounded like crushed lungs.

Kael turned sharply, scanning the room.

In the farthest corner, barely visible through the debris and shadows, slumped a figure against the wall.

A man.

His armor was torn, caked in dried blood. His breathing was labored, shallow, his chest barely rising with each rasping inhale. One of his legs was twisted at an unnatural angle, a jagged wound running down his side, soaked through with red.

Kael moved without thinking, stepping over the wreckage, kneeling beside him.

The man's fingers twitched slightly. His eyes fluttered open.

He tried to speak, but the words came out in a hoarse rasp, lost between coughs. His lips cracked as he struggled to form the words, his gaze flickering, unfocused.

Kael leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

"Easy. What happened?"

The man gasped, struggling to form words. "Rellios... taken... North." He coughed, a wet, gurgling sound, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His breathing was labored, his body trembling with the effort to speak. "They... knew you'd come."