The Villain Professor's Second Chance

I didn't say anything, didn't need to. The weight of what had transpired hung between us, heavy and undeniable. And as we stood there, side by side, watching the flower bloom in the quiet stillness of the dungeon, I couldn't help but feel the lingering weight of everything that had just happened settle over me like a shroud.

The flower swayed gently in the soft breeze that had somehow found its way into the dungeon, its delicate petals catching the faintest traces of light. It was a solemn reminder of what had transpired—a life lost, one full of hatred and pain, but now finally at rest.

Elandris remained silent beside me, her eyes still fixed on the flower. There was something in her expression that I couldn't quite place—an emotion that felt too old, too deep to truly understand. It was a mixture of grief, perhaps, but also acceptance, as though she had seen this ending far too many times before.

"How many more times will you do this?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence that had stretched on between us.

Elandris didn't answer right away. She let the question hang in the air for a long moment, her gaze still focused on the flower as if searching for an answer that wasn't there. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I've sent off so many of my brethren—watched them turn into the very nature they loved. But each time, it feels a little different. A little heavier." She paused, her fingers brushing against the hilt of the blade at her side. "But it's always necessary, isn't it? To keep moving forward.

To let them go."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I entirely understood. Elandris had lived longer than I could ever hope to, seen more death and loss than I could imagine. The weight of immortality was one I didn't envy, and in that moment, I realized how much she had carried with her all this time.

"You were right about her," I said after a while, my voice low. "She would've never stopped. No matter what we did, Armandra was too far gone."

Elandris gave a small nod, but there was no triumph in her expression. "Hatred like hers… it doesn't burn out easily. Once it takes root, it grows, consumes everything. That's what happened to her. She let it fester for too long."

She looked at me then, her eyes meeting mine with a quiet intensity. "But that's not all she was, Draven. At one point, she was more than just this… this monster. She was an elf, with dreams, with people she loved. Somewhere along the way, that was lost. But for a time, she had something good.

Something that gave her purpose."

I didn't know what to say to that. The Armandra I had known—the one from the academy, the one who had manipulated and betrayed—seemed too far removed from what Elandris described. But perhaps, in her long life, Elandris had learned to see people in shades of gray, where I only saw black and white.

"Do you really believe that?" I asked quietly. "That there was something good in her?"

Elandris didn't hesitate. "I believe that once, a long time ago, there was. But good or evil… it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? We're all just trying to survive."

I turned my gaze back to the flower. It was beautiful in its fragility, a stark contrast to the chaos and violence that had filled the dungeon not so long ago. And in that moment, I wondered if maybe Elandris was right. Perhaps, in the end, survival was all that really mattered.

We could dress it up with ideas of good and evil, of justice and revenge, but at its core, life was just a series of moments strung together by the will to keep going.

But even then, I couldn't shake the cold truth that lingered at the edge of my mind—some people, no matter what they had once been, were too dangerous to let live. Armandra had proven that.

"Stop for a moment," Elandris whispered, her voice cutting through my thoughts as I stared at the blooming flower. I watched as she knelt down once more, her hands brushing gently against the delicate petals of the strange plant that had once been Armandra. Her fingers traced the edges of a single bloom, and with a deft, careful motion, she plucked a petal and slipped it into her pocket.

I raised an eyebrow, watching her. "What are you doing?" I asked, the question hanging in the quiet air.

Elandris didn't answer immediately. Instead, she reached for one of the small branches that had sprouted from the base of the plant, snapping it off with practiced precision. The way she handled it, there was a clear sense of reverence, as if she understood something about this process that I couldn't. Then, without a word, she turned to me, her hand outstretched.

"Give me your water magic pen," she said, her voice soft but steady.

I hesitated for a moment, but I trusted her. Despite everything, Elandris had never led me astray. I handed the pen to her, watching closely as she held it in her palm, her other hand still gripping the branch she had just taken. There was a moment of stillness, a quiet anticipation, and then I saw it.

The pen began to glow faintly, the runes that had been etched into its surface flickering with a soft light. At first, it was subtle—barely more than a shimmer—but then it began to grow stronger, the runes shifting and transforming as new symbols started to appear.

The faint blue light around the pen deepened, becoming richer, more vibrant, as if the pen itself was absorbing the essence of the plant.

Elandris's eyes were closed, her face serene, focused. She murmured something under her breath, words too ancient and soft for me to catch. The branch she held crumbled into dust, its essence seeping into the pen, and the transformation intensified. The water magic pen, once simple and utilitarian, now took on a more elaborate form.

The runes glowed brighter, twisting into more intricate patterns, and the once smooth surface of the pen now bore subtle engravings that mimicked the veins of the plant's leaves.

The pen pulsed with energy, the water within it shifting into a deep, cerulean hue, as if infused with something far older and more powerful than before. As I watched, I realized that it wasn't just magic—it was the essence of life itself, the very nature of the elves, woven into the pen's core.

"How did you—" I started to ask, the words barely leaving my lips before Elandris suddenly swayed. Her body, so full of energy moments ago, slumped forward, and I barely caught her in time as she collapsed against me.

"Elandris!" I exclaimed, kneeling down and cradling her in my arms. She was unconscious, her breathing shallow, her body completely limp. I checked for signs of life—her pulse was faint, but steady. She had exhausted all of her mana. Every bit of it.

"This girl..." I muttered under my breath, realizing that she had used the last of her strength to complete whatever magic she had just performed on the pen. I could feel the weight of her, far lighter than I would have expected.

As I held her, I realized the discomfort I was feeling. We're too dirty.

With a wave of my hand, with my psychokinesis magic, I lift off all of the dust, the dirt, and everything lingering and itching to both our body and our clothes.

Good.

It's more comfortable to be clena.

Then as I prepared to lift her once again. Suddenly, something caught my eye.

A faint glow appeared near Armandra's corpse.

Normally, I would have leaped back, created distance, and readied myself for whatever dark trick might have been lurking in the remains. But this… this was different. The magic I felt was familiar, almost warm in its presence. It wasn't the oppressive darkness of Armandra's corrupted mana. No, this was something else. Something ancient, yet comforting.

The glow intensified, growing into a soft, golden light that surrounded the remains of Armandra, that now just a scattering of petals and roots. And then, from within that light, a voice—gentle, regal, and filled with the weight of centuries—echoed through the chamber.

Those long ears, beautiful silverish long hair, and language filled with ancient accents.

It's the person I met a long time ago.

"It has been a long time, Dravis."