The Villain Professor's Second Chance

I did as he said, focusing all of my remaining strength on the sorcerer. The ancient magic flowed through me, combining with Aurelia's power, forming a surge of energy that rippled across the battlefield. The sorcerer's form flickered, his duplicates dissolving as our magic tore through them.

For a brief moment, as the sorcerer's fractured form began to dissipate, my mind raced to piece together what had just happened. The logic behind it, the sheer mechanics of magic that had allowed us to disrupt his control over time—it wasn't just brute force. It was far more intricate.

Time magic, as I had learned through my years of study, was fundamentally different from most other forms of magic. Unlike elemental magic, which manipulated the natural forces of fire, water, earth, or air, time magic operated on an entirely different plane. It was a manipulation of reality itself, twisting the threads of existence to alter events, slow moments, or loop occurrences.

It wasn't just casting a spell—it was altering the very essence of how the world functioned.

But time magic had its weaknesses, like all things. The sorcerer had wielded it with terrifying skill, yes, but it was not without its vulnerabilities.

Time, by its nature, is linear. Even when magic allows for the bending or stretching of that line, there is still a sequence to it—a flow. The sorcerer had been using the distortions to his advantage, pulling alternate versions of himself from different timelines, creating duplicates that existed outside the normal flow of reality.

These duplicates were fragments, bits of possibility that he had forced into being through sheer will.

But the moment we introduced Elendorr's magic into the equation, something shifted. The ancient elven magic wasn't just powerful—it was rooted in stability, a kind of magic that tied deeply into the natural order of the world. The elves, in their essence, were bound to time through their long lives and connection to nature. Their magic didn't bend time, it upheld it.

And that was key.

By channeling Elendorr's magic through me, we had anchored the battlefield to a single timeline—a single reality. It was as though we had pulled everything into focus, forcing the sorcerer's chaotic manipulation of time into one stream. His duplicates, which had existed across multiple timelines, were now bound to the same flow as everything else, and thatrobbed them of their advantage.

They couldn't exist in a singular timeline, not without unraveling.

Aurelia's power, tied to her ancient bloodline, amplified that effect. Her royal lineage wasn't just a political title—it was a source of ancient magic that connected her to the origins of both human and elven kingdoms. Her magic wasn't just fire and swordplay—it was woven into the fabric of reality itself.

When she combined her power with mine, the fire of her ancient bloodline intertwined with the shadows of my dark magic, creating a force strong enough to hold the threads of time in place.

The sorcerer's grip on the battlefield weakened not because we overwhelmed him in raw power, but because we countered his very approach. Time magic relied on distortion, on fragmenting reality into splinters and bending those splinters to one's will. By binding the battlefield to a single, coherent timeline, we eliminated the distortions.

His ability to manipulate alternate versions of himself collapsed, like a house of cards.

In essence, we didn't just destroy the sorcerer. We removed the foundation on which his power had been built.

This was the difference between wielding magic with raw force and understanding its fundamental rules. The sorcerer had relied on the chaos of time distortion to overpower us, but he never anticipated that we could restore the balance, that we could force reality to reject his manipulations.

It was a complex, delicate balance of forces: Elendorr's magic stabilizing the timeline, Aurelia's royal power amplifying that stability, and my own dark magic serving as the counterweight to the chaos. Together, we had locked the sorcerer into a reality where his powers no longer functioned as intended. He had become trapped in the very flow of time he had sought to control.

And once he was trapped, once his grip on the battlefield weakened, we could finally strike. The ancient magic, the royal bloodline, and the dark energy combined into a singular force—enough to shatter his hold on existence.

As his form flickered and faded, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and rage, I understood that we had done more than simply defeat him. We had undone the very magic that had given him power. Time itself had rejected him, and in that rejection, he was erased.

The echoes of the sorcerer's defeat still lingered in the air, but the battlefield had fallen into an eerie silence. My body felt heavy, each step a reminder of the toll that battle had taken. We had won—there was no doubt about that—but the weight of it still clung to me, like a shadow that refused to dissipate. Your journey continues on m v|l-e'm,p y r

My thoughts kept circling back to what had just transpired, the intricacies of magic that had allowed us to defeat the time sorcerer. I couldn't help but feel as if something was missing.

A tap on my shoulder jolted me out of my thoughts.

"Hey, what are you zoning out for, human?" The voice was filled with arrogance, a typical tone for the elves. But there was something else in it, a hint of excitement, maybe even approval. I turned to see one of the elven warriors grinning at me, his silver armor gleaming in the fading light of the battlefield. "Let's drink! Drink! We need to drink more!"

I blinked, the reality of the situation finally hitting me. The battle was over. The demons were vanquished, the time sorcerer erased from existence. And now, it seemed, the elves were ready to celebrate.

Of course. We've won the battle, after all.

The idea of a celebration felt strange, almost out of place after everything that had happened. But as I looked around, I realized that the elves, too, needed this. The scars of battle still marred the landscape, the smell of blood and smoke thick in the air, but the tension that had gripped the elven forces was slowly dissipating.

Laughter echoed across the clearing, and I could see the soldiers beginning to relax, their weapons lowered as they gathered around makeshift tables for the feast.

I glanced over at Aurelia. She was already at the heart of the celebration, her golden hair catching the flicker of the torchlight. She had a goblet in hand, laughing as she conversed with a group of elven soldiers. Her regal presence seemed to have melted away, replaced by a woman who was enjoying the moment, savoring the victory alongside the people she had fought beside.

She looked free, unburdened by the weight of her title, and it was hard not to smile at the sight.

But something gnawed at the back of my mind. Why are we still here?

The quest had said it was complete. The moment the sorcerer had faded from existence, I had felt the familiar sensation of completion—the sense that we had done what needed to be done. But we hadn't returned to the real world. There had been no fading, no transition back to reality. We were still here, in this place, as if something was holding us.

A voice interrupted my thoughts again, this time softer, more reserved. "You fought bravely, Dravis."

I turned to see Queen Elaitharis standing nearby, her golden eyes studying me with curiosity. The young elven queen was beautiful, regal in a way that made her seem almost ethereal. But there was a quiet strength in her gaze, one that reminded me of Aurelia. She had been through much, and yet she had led her people with grace, even through the chaos of the battle.

"Thank you," I replied, keeping my tone measured.

Elaitharis smiled, though there was something tired in it. "You've done more for us than most would in a lifetime. And yet… you remain a mystery."

I felt the weight of her words, and instinctively, my hand tugged at the edge of my hood, pulling it lower. It had been my habit throughout this entire ordeal to keep my face hidden. The dark magic I wielded, the shadow that seemed to cling to me—it wasn't something I wanted the elves to see, even if they had begun to accept me.

"You're an enigma," she said, a slight sigh in her voice, as if she had resigned herself to not understanding me fully. "But after witnessing your valor on the battlefield, it's clear that you mean no harm. We are in your debt, Dravis."

I nodded, though her words only deepened the unease that had been simmering inside me. We should have left this place by now. The quest was done. So why were we still here? Something was wrong. Something I couldn't quite place.

My gaze drifted back to Aurelia, who was now deep into the celebration. She had always been good at blending in with the soldiers, making them feel at ease around her. Tonight was no different. She had a goblet in one hand and was laughing heartily as she swapped stories with the elven warriors. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the alcohol or the victory, I couldn't tell.

"She seems to be having fun," Queen Elaitharis remarked, her voice soft and amused. "The royal feasts back home were never like this, I imagine?"

"No," I admitted, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "This is new for her."

"Perhaps this is what we all needed," Elaitharis mused, her gaze distant for a moment. "After so much death, so much chaos, sometimes it helps to remember that we are still alive." Her eyes flicked back to me, and I could see the question lingering in them. She wanted to ask more, to understand more, but she respected my silence.

Before she could say anything further, the sound of laughter and shouting grew louder behind me. I turned just in time to see a group of elven soldiers, clearly drunk from the celebration, stumbling toward me. Their faces were flushed, their movements exaggerated, and their eyes gleamed with mischief.

One of them—a tall elven woman with long, flowing auburn hair—slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me toward the group. "You! You fought with us! You saved our skins!" Her words were slurred, but there was a genuine warmth in her voice. "You… you need to drink with us!"

I hesitated, glancing over at Elaitharis, who only raised an eyebrow in amusement. She didn't seem inclined to rescue me from the drunken soldiers.

Before I could protest, another soldier thrust a goblet into my hand. "Drink! Drink! For Elendorr! For victory!"

The name of the ancient general stirred something inside me. His sacrifice had been noble, and yet there was a heaviness in my chest at the thought of him fading away, his magic still lingering in the air. I raised the goblet, nodding in acknowledgment.

"For Elendorr," I murmured, taking a sip.