The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 436: He’s Here!

Amberine’s heart pounded in her chest, her ears filled with a dull roar as she struggled to make sense of what was happening. The floor beneath her feet had trembled, and that chilling voice had echoed through her mind—a voice she thought she would never hear again. The world around her felt like it was closing in, the shadows stretching longer, the air growing colder. She stood paralyzed with fear, her mind caught between the past and present, unable to decide what to do.

"Amberine!" Ifrit’s voice broke through her paralysis. It wasn’t his usual calm or teasing tone; it was raw, urgent, filled with a desperation that shook her to the core. "Amberine, we need to run! Find the safest place you can think of!"

His words hit her like a splash of cold water. A jolt ran through her body, and she forced herself to take a shaky breath. Despite the chaos and fear constricting her chest, she had to act. She had to think. Her gaze darted around the small chamber, and she realized that standing here would do nothing but lead her into the clutches of whatever was coming. Her fingers trembled, and her throat tightened as she tried to come up with a plan. She felt the weight of Ifrit pressing against her side, his warmth grounding her as her mind raced.

"Think, Amberine," she whispered to herself, her voice quivering. "Think." The safest place... where could she go?

The voice—that haunting, chilling voice—had belonged to one of the Devil Coffin’s members. She was certain of it. They had found her, and now they were after her again. She couldn’t stay in Aetherion—not without knowing who was on her side and who wasn’t. The council was divided over Draven’s fate; she couldn’t trust anyone.

Ifrit’s warmth pulsed against her side, his small form shifting beneath her robe. "Amberine, now!" he urged, his voice like a slap that snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.

Her breath caught, and then she was moving. She didn’t know where she was going, but her body took over, propelling her forward. She pushed through the chamber door, stumbling into the hallway beyond. The sudden brightness of the corridor made her blink, the light almost blinding after the dim chamber.

"Where are we going?" Ifrit asked, his voice laced with worry.

"I don’t know," Amberine muttered, her voice shaky. "Somewhere safe. Anywhere safe."

The halls of Aetherion were usually places of learning and discussion, filled with scholars, knights, and students bustling about. Today, they seemed to loom over her, the walls echoing with the footsteps of people who had no idea what was happening beneath the surface. Amberine stumbled forward, her vision blurring as she tried to find a direction—any direction—that would take her away from the looming danger.

She was almost to the end of the corridor when she felt it—an unnatural chill creeping along her skin, pricking at her senses. Amberine turned, and her heart dropped.

From the far end of the hallway, a dark green fog was creeping, curling around the stone like it was alive, spreading with an almost sentient awareness. It twisted and undulated, reaching out, and Amberine knew that it wasn’t something natural. She didn’t need Ifrit to tell her—she just knew.

"Run, Amberine!" Ifrit’s voice was filled with an urgency she had never heard before.

Without a second thought, she spun around, her feet carrying her as fast as she could move. The sound of her shoes echoing on the stone floor mixed with her harsh breaths, and she burst into the main hall of Aetherion. The symposium was still in full swing—students, scholars, knights, all gathered in clusters, discussing their work and exchanging ideas. To them, this was just another day.

Amberine weaved through the people, her heart pounding so hard she felt it might burst. The crowd seemed thicker than usual, and her progress was slow. She shoved her way past a group of students, mumbling hurried apologies, her eyes darting around. She had no idea if the fog was still following her, but she couldn’t risk stopping to find out.

The feeling of being watched hadn’t left her. Even though she could see nothing behind her but people—laughing, talking, oblivious—she felt something unnatural, a presence that stalked her even here.

"Ifrit, do you see it?" Amberine whispered, her voice trembling.

Ifrit’s small form peeked from her robe. "No fog," he replied, "but I feel it, Amberine. It’s still here, watching us."

Her pulse quickened, her eyes flicking from one side to the other. The whispers of conversation, the laughter, it all seemed wrong, out of place compared to the chaos within her. She felt like she was moving in a different world, one that no one else could see or hear—a world filled with fear and shadow, with green fog curling toward her from every corner.

Suddenly, a hand tapped her shoulder, and Amberine’s heart jumped into her throat. She spun around, her eyes wide, her breath caught, expecting the worst.

Instead, she found herself staring at a young woman—a fellow researcher, her face alight with a wide, eager smile. "Hey! You’re Amberine Polime, aren’t you?" the woman asked, her eyes shining. "I heard your presentation about the Orb of Emotions earlier. It was incredible!"

For a moment, Amberine could only blink, her heart still hammering, her senses on edge. The normalcy of the situation was almost disorienting, like she had been pulled back into a reality she could barely recognize. She forced a smile, her voice shaky as she responded. "Th-thank you," she said, her mind struggling to catch up. "I’m… I’m glad you liked it."

The woman beamed, oblivious to Amberine’s internal struggle. "Oh, I did! The way you explained the emotional convergence—it was so fascinating! I’ve always been interested in that kind of research, but you made it feel so accessible."

Amberine nodded, her thoughts still racing, but the young woman’s enthusiasm was infectious. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to get lost in the conversation, to pretend that she wasn’t running from a dark, creeping fog—to pretend that everything was okay.

"I’m… really glad it was helpful," Amberine said, her smile a little more genuine this time. The woman’s excitement reminded her why she loved her work—why she loved magic. "It’s… It’s always nice to know that my research means something to others."

They spoke for another few moments, exchanging hurried words about their studies, and for just a little while, Amberine almost forgot the terror that had been gripping her. Almost. But the sense of unease never left her, a shadow that lingered in the corners of her mind, reminding her that this was far from over.

Then, it happened again.

Another tap on her arm. Amberine turned, expecting another researcher, maybe another compliment—but the smile on her face froze as her eyes locked onto the man before her. He wore a hood, his face partially hidden, but she could see his lips curled in a smile she recognized all too well—a smile that haunted her nightmares. Her breath caught, her heart dropping into her stomach.

It was one of them—one of the Devil Coffin.

Panic surged through her, her entire body stiffening as her instincts screamed at her to move. She bolted, her feet pounding against the stone floor, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The world around her blurred, the scholars and students nothing but vague shapes as she pushed her way through the crowd.

"Amberine, wait!" Ifrit called out, his voice barely audible over the roar of her own heartbeat. "He’s not chasing us!"

But Amberine couldn’t stop. She couldn’t think. All she knew was that she had to get away—had to put as much distance between herself and that hooded figure as possible. Her lungs burned, her legs aching as she sprinted through the corridors, her focus narrowing to a single point: escape.

She turned a corner and spotted a door—an unmarked door that seemed to offer a way out. She grabbed the handle, throwing it open and slamming it shut behind her. She leaned against it, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heart pounding in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady herself, her hands trembling.

The room was small, dark, the only light coming from a flickering sconce on the wall. Amberine opened her eyes, trying to catch her breath, but a chill ran down her spine. Something was wrong. She could feel it—the air was too still, too cold.

Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes widening as she saw it—the dark green fog, creeping in through the cracks around the door, curling toward her like it was alive. Her panic surged again, her entire body trembling as she pushed away from the door, her mind racing.

"No, no, no…" she whispered, her voice filled with desperation. She looked around the room, her eyes darting from corner to corner, searching for anything that could help her. Her gaze landed on a fireplace on the far wall, and an idea sparked.

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She ran to it, her breath shaky, her heart pounding as she turned to Ifrit, her voice trembling. "Ifrit," she pleaded, "do you know the spell for fire teleportation used around here? Please, Ifrit, help me!"

Ifrit’s small form glowed with determination, his eyes meeting hers. "You’re asking the right spirit," he said, a hint of his usual humor breaking through despite the danger. "I’m a fire spirit, after all."

He moved to the fireplace, his small body glowing brighter as he began to chant, his voice low and melodic. Amberine watched, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide as she listened. The ancient chant was unfamiliar, complex, but Ifrit’s voice was steady, guiding her.

"It’s an advanced spell," Ifrit said, his voice calm, even as the fog drew closer, "but all you need to do is utter your destination."

Amberine’s eyes widened in recognition. She had heard this chant before—it was similar to the gate spell used by Aetherion at the registration room. She didn’t have time to question it, to admire the magic or Ifrit’s knowledge. The fog was curling closer, its presence suffocating, the chill reaching her skin.

Taking a deep breath, Amberine closed her eyes, her voice trembling as she shouted, "Professor Draven’s room!"

She jumped into the fireplace, the flames turning green, then blue, enveloping her in their searing heat. For a moment, she felt like she was being pulled apart, her body stretched, twisted, and she closed her eyes, praying that it would work.

Behind her, the fog reached the fire, but instead of following her, it ignited, the green-black tendrils burning with an eerie blue flame. The fog writhed, twisting and curling, consumed by the fire until it vanished, leaving nothing behind but a faint wisp of smoke.

Amberine felt herself being pulled through space, her senses overwhelmed by the sensation—heat, cold, movement. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. She was spat out onto a stone floor, the impact jarring, her breath escaping in a shaky gasp.

She opened her eyes, her vision blurry for a moment before it cleared. The room was familiar, the scent of parchment and ink filling her senses. Papers were strewn across the desk, and the dim light cast long shadows on the walls.

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Slowly, Amberine pushed herself up, her breath still shaky, her heart still pounding. She looked around, her eyes landing on the figure sitting at the desk—Professor Draven. He was exactly as she remembered him, as if never changed. His sharp eyes scanning over the papers before him, his expression unreadable. His presence was calm, composed, utterly indifferent to the chaos that had surrounded her mere moments ago. It was as though nothing could shake him, not even the accusations or the danger she had just escaped from.

For a heartbeat, Amberine just stared, her breath caught in her throat. The room was still, the air thick with the scent of ink and parchment, the silence almost deafening. And there he was, Professor Draven, acting as if the world wasn’t crumbling around them.

His gaze shifted, and his dark eyes met hers, as if he had always known she was there. His eyes held no surprise, no curiosity, just an unwavering, cold intensity that made Amberine’s pulse quicken for a reason she couldn’t fully understand.

"You’re back," he said, his voice even, as though her sudden and dramatic arrival were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.