The Villain Professor's Second Chance

I adjusted my grip on my swords, feeling the familiar weight settle in my hands. Both blades gleamed under the dim light, one angled slightly forward, the other held defensively at my side. Lyan's stance was different—his weapon rested almost casually across his shoulder, but I could see the subtle flex of his fingers, the readiness in his stance. He wasn't underestimating me. Good.

I wouldn't tolerate a half-hearted fight.

We moved at the same time, our blades colliding in a ringing clash of steel that echoed through the chamber. I met his strike head-on, the force of the impact vibrating up my arms, but I barely registered it. I was already calculating his next move, shifting my weight to exploit the brief opening in his guard.

I feinted low, aiming for his right leg. As expected, Lyan reacted instantly, blocking with a swift movement of his foot. But instead of simply evading, he used the momentum to pivot, his tail whipping through the air in a sharp arc. I jerked back just in time, the tip of his tail grazing the air in front of my face.

His movements were fluid, almost animalistic, but there was a strategy behind it—a deliberate chaos.

I pressed the attack, my swords moving in rapid succession, each strike aimed at testing his defenses. I slashed upward, aiming for his left shoulder, but he deflected the blow with the flat of his blade, his eyes narrowing as he anticipated my next move.

I twisted my body, bringing my other sword down in a sharp arc, but Lyan countered with a swift block, the force of our clash sending a ripple of energy through the floor beneath us.

He was fast—faster than I expected. But speed alone wouldn't save him.

I reinforced my strikes with dark magic, letting the energy course through my body, enhancing my strength without the need for outward displays. I could feel the familiar coldness settle into my bones, sharpening my senses, tightening my control. My next strike came faster, harder, the blade aimed directly for his torso.

Lyan blocked again, but this time, he was forced back a step. His eyes flashed with something dangerous—amusement, maybe? It was hard to tell. He responded with a sudden burst of speed, his sword flashing toward my side. I sidestepped, barely avoiding the slash, and retaliated with a quick series of strikes aimed at his midsection.

He parried them all, his tail flicking in and out of his movements like a third limb, keeping me on edge. The sharp crack of our blades meeting filled the room, punctuated only by the faint hiss of demonic energy that pulsed from his weapon. I recognized the technique—demonic fire magic, contained and controlled, just beneath the surface of his strikes.

I pushed him harder, my swords a blur of motion as I attacked from every angle. Left, right, high, low—I was looking for any weakness, any slight hesitation I could exploit. But Lyan wasn't giving me anything. His counters were clean, efficient, almost lazy in their precision. It was as if he enjoyed the fight, the thrill of matching his skill against mine.

I saw an opening—just a fraction of a second where his balance shifted too far forward. I moved in, my blade cutting toward his exposed side, but before I could land the blow, his tail snapped toward me again. I blocked it with my off-hand sword, but the force of the impact sent a jolt up my arm.

He grinned, a sharp, predatory smile, and spun with the momentum, his sword coming at me from the opposite direction.

I met it with my own blade, sparks flying as the weapons collided. I twisted my wrist, angling my sword to slide his weapon away, and drove forward with a quick thrust. He deflected it at the last second, but I could tell the move surprised him. I was gaining ground, pushing him back, forcing him to adjust.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Behind us, I could hear Aurelia's amused voice. "Dravis is better," she called, her tone dripping with confidence. "He's always focused when he's about to win."

I didn't let her words distract me, but I could hear the edge of pride in her voice. It wasn't often that I fought for an audience, but I knew Aurelia well enough to understand that she enjoyed watching me work.

The platinum-blonde princess, however, wasn't so easily impressed. "Lyan's stronger," she countered lightly, though there was a teasing lilt to her voice. "Let's see who lasts longer."

I could feel Lyan's gaze sharpen at her words, a subtle shift in his posture. He wasn't unaffected by her presence, and for a brief moment, I saw a flicker of something in his expression—determination, or maybe something more. He wanted to prove something.

The fight escalated.

I flicked my sword toward his shoulder, a quick feint, before disappearing into the shadows. My body flickered, phasing in and out of sight as I moved to his blind spot. It was a technique I'd perfected over years of practice, using shadow magic to blur the line between visibility and invisibility. Most opponents would falter, if only for a second.

But not Lyan.

The moment I reappeared, his blade was already moving, a burst of dark fire erupting from the ground beneath me. I leapt back, barely avoiding the flames as they licked at my boots. The ground where I had stood moments ago was scorched black, a clear reminder of the power he wielded.

"You're not bad," I said, my voice even, controlled. I wasn't trying to flatter him. It was an observation, nothing more. Lyan's strength was undeniable, but I had faced worse.

He smirked, that same dangerous glint in his eyes. "Neither are you."

We moved again, our swords clashing with even more force this time. The floor beneath us cracked under the weight of our strikes, and the walls trembled as bursts of dark energy collided. Each of us pushed harder, faster, our movements becoming more aggressive as the tension in the room grew thicker.

I could feel the dark magic coursing through my veins, strengthening my every move, while Lyan's demonic energy pulsed in response, crackling around him like an aura of destruction.

It wasn't long before the entire room seemed to warp under the pressure of our combined power.

I slashed at his legs, aiming to knock him off balance, but he blocked with a swift kick, his shoe deflecting the blade with a metallic clang. Without missing a beat, he spun, his tail whipping toward my face in a blur of motion. I ducked, my instincts kicking in, and countered with a horizontal slash aimed at his torso.

He twisted, narrowly avoiding the blade, and retaliated with a downward strike that I barely managed to parry.

The room was alive with the sound of our battle, the clash of metal against metal, the hiss of demonic flames, the crackle of shadow magic. The energy between us was electric, volatile, as if the very air had turned against us. Continue your journey on empire

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the platinum-blonde princess watching us with that same amused expression. "I wonder which of them will tire first," she said softly, as if the outcome of the fight was nothing more than an idle curiosity.

Aurelia, on the other hand, looked almost gleeful. "I've never seen Dravis so focused," she muttered, her red eyes gleaming with excitement. "This bastard might actually give him a challenge."

I ignored the commentary, focusing on the fight at hand. My body was moving on instinct now, each strike, each movement calculated to exploit any opening. But Lyan wasn't giving me much. His demonic energy flared with every step, sending bursts of dark fire across the floor, forcing me to stay on the defensive.

I flickered in and out of the shadows, using the darkness to my advantage, but every time I reappeared, Lyan was already there, his blade waiting for me. He was fast, and more than that, he was relentless. His strikes were heavy, each one designed to crush, to overwhelm. But I was faster, more precise. Where his movements were brute strength, mine were calculated efficiency.

Our blades clashed again, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the room. I gritted my teeth, pushing back against the weight of his sword. For a moment, we were locked in place, our faces inches apart, the heat of his demonic energy mixing with the cold chill of my dark magic.

"I don't like you," Lyan said suddenly, his voice low, a growl rumbling beneath his words.

The feeling was mutual. "I don't like you either," I replied, my voice flat, unbothered by his hostility.

Our swords pressed harder against each other, neither of us willing to back down. This fight was far from over.