The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"And yet you suspect that Lisanor's eyes might pierce the shadows eventually." His amusement faded. "She has always had a knack for unraveling mysteries she shouldn't. She's tireless in her research and more ruthless than anyone gives her credit for. Ironically, it's that same ruthlessness that's helped her hide how powerful she's become. She doesn't show off. She doesn't flaunt her strength. She simply acquires it, piece by piece, until one day it's too late to stop her." That steady, methodical climb to power echoed in my mind, resonating uncomfortably with my own approach. We were not so different, Lisanor and I, though our goals were fundamentally opposed. Where she sought to twist necromancy to serve her ambitions of domination, I needed to leverage the knowledge of this world to ensure my own survival, perhaps even shape the future into something less bleak. "Then let's list out her assets," I said, crossing my arms. It was a calculated gesture—authoritative, but not overtly hostile. "She's had ample time to spread her influence across the Council. She must have a network of mages who either directly support her or unknowingly enable her schemes." Kyrion nodded, eyes darkening a fraction. "That's part of what made me move when I did. I've seen how she's turned the Council's complacency against them. A well-placed suggestion here, a generous discovery there, and suddenly she has a circle of people who see her as the next shining star of magical advancement." "A Council Mage specializing in Divination," I murmured, letting my mind race. "They could be feeding her warnings, predictions, glimpses of possible threats." "There's also an Enchanter—high-ranking, with free rein to restricted archives," Kyrion added. "He's the type who values academic breakthroughs above all else. In the right context, he might have willingly shared knowledge without realizing its full implications." I allowed a soft scoff to escape. "Ignorance can be as dangerous as malice." "And then there's a security chief within Aetherion," Kyrion went on, his lips pressing into a tight line. "He's had a habit of making certain 'sensitive' documents disappear before they reach the Council's attention. Anyone investigating Lisanor's true activities runs into dead ends, all thanks to that man's convenient misplacements." The scope of her reach was impressive, though not unexpected given my own recollection of the original scenario. Still, I felt a flicker of grudging admiration for the intricacy of her work. She'd laid a foundation so quietly that no one truly noticed how powerful she had become. "If she succeeds," Kyrion said, voice growing hushed, "she will command necromancy in its purest form. Her supposed 'breakthrough' in necromantic stabilization is nothing more than a stepping stone toward true resurrection." A flicker of discomfort stirred in my chest. True resurrection. Not the reanimation of soulless husks or skeletons, but the actual return of life to the deceased. The lines between living and dead would be erased for those she favored—or those she wished to exploit. I recalled old rumors of her thirst for knowledge, how she'd scoured forbidden texts in search of the final key that might unlock that boundary between death and life. A step beyond conventional healing magic, beyond even the darkest arts known to the Council. I schooled my features, not wanting to show a reaction, yet the gravity of it weighed on me. In that moment, memories of the so-called "original scenario" resonated with startling clarity. A war within the Council, factions tearing at each other's throats, culminating in an apocalyptic conflict that nearly consumed the continent. A necromancer's unchecked power, unstoppable once it reached its apex. And at the edges of that memory, a nameless Necromancer Sage who had offered guidance—or perhaps, in the original narrative, arrived too late to prevent tragedy. Had that Sage been Kyrion all along? Had the original timeline required him to remain hidden until the final moment? If so, then my interference, my knowledge, had thrown a stone into still waters, creating ripples I could no longer predict. The uncertainty gnawed at me. My foreknowledge had always been my trump card, allowing me to shift events to my advantage. Now, with Kyrion's reintroduction, the future was in flux. For the first time in a while, I felt the distinct chill of unpredictability creeping over me. I exhaled, steadying myself. "Then we proceed with caution," I said. My voice sounded calm, cold even, but it concealed a thousand branching pathways I was already mapping in my mind. Kyrion's gaze never left me, his intense stare probing, assessing my reaction. "And what does caution entail for you?" I allowed a thin smile, though it contained little warmth. "Three steps. Subterfuge—erode the Council's confidence in her without direct confrontation. Sabotage—disrupt her experiments before she refines her process. And, if we fail to contain her power in time… elimination. A last resort, but a necessary one." He inclined his head in agreement, a hint of dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "Efficient as ever, Draven." "There's an upcoming Symposium," I continued. "If she's on the verge of unveiling this so-called necromantic stabilization, that would be the ideal setting to expose her. Public humiliation, academic condemnation… if she's careless enough to place her findings on display, we might twist that very stage against her." Kyrion's expression tensed. "She's not arrogant. She won't stand in the light and proclaim her mastery without ensuring she has the Council's backing first. And I suspect she has an unknown benefactor—someone with resources to spare and a vested interest in her success." That unknown was problematic. Anyone with enough influence to sponsor Lisanor from behind the scenes had to be formidable. A hidden mage, perhaps, or an entire faction that saw advantage in necromancy's darkest secrets. Either way, it further underscored the risk we were about to take. Then a faint, almost imperceptible vibration rippled through the leyline-bound crystal, causing its swirling energies to spike momentarily. I cast the subtlest glance in its direction, noting the abrupt shift in its glow. A sign that something had just tested the wards—some presence from the outside, perhaps searching for a signature or a hint of necromantic activity. Kyrion watched the crystal as well. His lips pressed tight, but he said nothing. The air felt heavier, as though we both realized how quickly events might spiral from here. The tension in the chamber redoubled, fraying at the edges of my composure. If Lisanor suspected Kyrion was alive, she might already be making moves to corner him, flush him out, or turn the Council's entire might against him. I wouldn't escape unscathed either. My involvement with a presumed-dead necromancer would place me firmly in her crosshairs. I set my jaw, forcing my voice to remain calm. "We'll have to start moving pieces immediately. Every second we wait is a second closer to exposure." Kyrion paused, then nodded. "That's why I chose to bring you here. I wanted you to see with your own eyes what I have at my disposal. And now that we've come to an understanding, I trust you'll waste no time in planning our next steps." I gave him a direct look. "Don't expect loyalty beyond what our arrangement requires. If I sense any sign of betrayal—" "—I know," he interrupted, a thin smile crossing his lips. "You'll kill me. I'd do the same if our positions were reversed." Those words, delivered with such casual acceptance, lingered between us. It was as though the threat of mutual destruction brought a strange clarity to our alliance. We each knew how far the other would go, and we each understood that crossing the line meant a swift end. In some twisted way, it offered the closest thing to security either of us could hope for. The crystal pulsed once again, its radiance temporarily sputtering, and then stabilizing. I did not let it distract me. My mind was already planning, testing angles of approach, forging contingency plans if Lisanor or her unknown ally caught wind of our maneuvers too soon. Kyrion turned his attention back to me, his gaze fixed yet again on my face, as though trying to read the next hundred moves in the lines of my expression. If he saw anything there, he gave no indication beyond a quiet hum of acknowledgment. In a single breath, I summarized our dire situation in my mind: An alliance built on suspicion. A ruthless opponent gathering strength in the shadows. A future that no longer adhered to the script I had once memorized. Yet I had no choice but to press forward. Hesitation had never served me before, and it would certainly not serve me now. I took one final glance at the swirling darkness inside the crystal, then returned my focus to Kyrion. We were in this together, at least for the moment—brought here by separate paths, bound by the shared necessity of stopping Lisanor before she upended the balance of power in the entire Council. "Then we need to dissect her position—who she controls, what resources she has access to," I repeated, reinforcing the starting point of our plan, my voice echoing quietly in the dark. Kyrion smiled slightly, as if pleased by my immediate pivot to strategy. "She's been subtle, careful. But even caution leaves traces."