The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 456: Returning to MTU

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The hum of the magical wheels melded with the rhythmic flap of the carriage’s enchanted wings as it glided along the paved road. The scenery outside shifted from the dense greenery of lush forests to the rolling serenity of hills bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Yet Amberine barely noticed the changing vistas. Her gaze was fixed on the patterned floor of the carriage, her hands gripping the edges of her seat so tightly that her knuckles whitened.

The memory of the Devil Coffin’s attack clung to her like a shadow, seeping into her every thought. The suffocating chains, the endless void of the prison dimension, and the visceral realization that she had been targeted still weighed heavily on her mind. Every creak of the carriage wheels, every shift in its movement, sent her nerves on edge. Her heart raced, her breaths shallow and uneven.

Nestled within her robes, Ifrit stirred. The small fire spirit, usually brimming with confidence and warmth, seemed subdued, his glow dim as if reflecting Amberine’s turmoil. "It’s fine, Amberine," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper against the chaos in her mind. "You’re safe now. We’re safe."

Amberine’s lips twitched, almost forming a reply, but the words caught in her throat. Her gaze drifted to the faint flicker of light emanating from Ifrit’s body. For a fleeting moment, she felt comforted by his presence. Yet the absence of Professor Draven gnawed at her. He had been the one to pull her from the abyss, his cold, calculating actions decisive in ensuring her survival. Now, without him, she felt exposed—like a thread dangling precariously over an open flame.

"He’ll be fine," Ifrit continued, as though sensing her thoughts. "He’s… different, Amberine. Strong in ways most people aren’t. You know that."

Amberine nodded faintly but couldn’t summon the conviction to believe it. The professor’s sharp eyes, his calm demeanor even in the face of overwhelming odds, haunted her thoughts. She hated admitting it, but his presence had been a stabilizing force. Now, with him confined to the whims of the Continental Magic Council, she felt adrift.

Her hands unclenched slightly as the carriage’s gentle movements lulled her into a brief moment of calm. But the peace was fragile, easily shattered by the memories that played on a loop in her mind. Chains tightening around her, the chilling laughter of her captors, the suffocating darkness—it was all too vivid, too real.

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves. "It’s over," she whispered, more to herself than to Ifrit. Yet the words carried little weight. The scars of her ordeal felt too fresh, the fear too deeply rooted to be dispelled so easily.

The hum of the wheels grew louder as the carriage rose slightly, the magical wings adjusting their flight path. Amberine closed her eyes, hoping to find solace in the rhythmic sound. Instead, she found herself reflecting on the professor’s actions.

Draven had been ruthless, his methods efficient and unyielding. He had saved her, yes, but there was no warmth in his approach. No reassurance. It was all calculated precision, every decision driven by logic rather than emotion. And yet… he had saved her. The realization brought a small flicker of satisfaction. Finally, the man who had defiled her father’s name had faced consequences. Draven Arcanum von Drakhan was now under the scrutiny of the council, his actions questioned, his authority diminished.

Amberine’s satisfaction felt fleeting, hollow even. She stared out of the carriage window, her reflection faint against the dimming sky. Was this truly what she wanted? To see him punished? To have him stripped of his power and influence? The thought unsettled her. Her hatred for him had been a cornerstone of her anger for so long, but now it felt misplaced, tangled with gratitude she didn’t want to acknowledge.

"You’re quiet," Ifrit said, his voice softer now. "That’s… unusual for you."

She managed a weak smile, her fingers brushing against the small spirit. "Just thinking," she murmured.

Ifrit’s glow brightened slightly. "About him?"

Amberine’s silence was answer enough.

The journey stretched on, the carriage’s pace steady but unhurried. Amberine’s thoughts spiraled as the magical wheels continued their hum. What would happen to Draven now? Would the council strip him of his title? Would he be exiled, imprisoned? The questions came faster than she could answer them, each one feeding the growing knot of unease in her stomach.

She tried to focus on the more immediate concern: the symposium. Would it still be held after the chaos at Aetherion? And even if it were, what role would she play? Her reputation was already fragile, and now she was a known target of the Devil Coffin. Where would she even stay? The questions churned in her mind, leaving her emotionally drained.

As the carriage pulled into the grand courtyard of the Continental Magic Council’s embassy in the capital, Amberine’s attention shifted. The towering spires of the embassy cast long shadows across the cobblestone courtyard. A second carriage awaited her, its polished exterior bearing the emblem of the Magic Tower University.

A council representative approached her, their expression polite but distant. "Miss Polime," they said with a slight bow. "This carriage will take you directly to the university. Your safety remains our priority."

Amberine nodded, offering a weak smile. The representative’s formal demeanor left little room for conversation, and she climbed into the new carriage without protest. Ifrit shifted within her robes, his warmth a small comfort against the chill of her anxiety.

The interior of the MTU carriage was luxurious, but Amberine barely noticed the fine upholstery or the enchantments woven into the walls. Her thoughts continued their downward spiral, each mile bringing her closer to the university and the uncertainty it held.

She imagined the stares of her peers, the whispered conversations about her abduction and Draven’s arrest. Her stomach churned at the thought. How could she face them? How could she find a sense of normalcy when everything felt so precarious?

The journey felt interminable. Outside, the city streets gave way to the sprawling countryside, but Amberine remained lost in her thoughts. Ifrit’s occasional reassurances did little to ease her tension. Her fingers twisted the edge of her robes, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to shake.

When the MTU carriage finally arrived at the university gates, Amberine exhaled a shaky breath. The familiar spires of the Magic Tower loomed overhead, their silhouettes imposing against the evening sky. She stepped out of the carriage, her movements stiff and hesitant.

"Thank you," she mumbled to the coachman, her voice barely audible.

As she retrieved her bag, a voice called out from behind her. "Amberine!"

She turned, startled, to see Maris running toward her, her face alight with relief. Behind her, Elara walked at a measured pace, her usual stoic expression unchanged. Professor Astrid followed, her gaze warm but assessing.

Maris reached Amberine first, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug. "I heard the news!" she exclaimed. "I was so worried. You’re always in trouble, aren’t you?"

Amberine stiffened at the contact, her emotions already frayed. Maris pulled back slightly, her smile faltering as she noticed Amberine’s dark expression. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

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Before Amberine could respond, Elara stepped closer. Her tone was as indifferent as ever.

"I heard you did great at Aetherion," she said, not meeting Amberine’s gaze.

"Not surprising."

The words, though casual, struck something deep within Amberine. Her throat tightened, and before she knew it, tears were streaming down her face. A sob escaped her lips, raw and unbidden, as she stumbled forward. She threw her arms around Elara in a sudden burst of emotion, her grip almost desperate, as though holding on to the stoic girl could somehow anchor her amidst the turmoil of her thoughts and feelings. Amberine buried her face in Elara’s shoulder, her tears soaking into the other girl’s robe. "I-I thought…" she began, her voice breaking, "I thought I wouldn’t make it back… I thought…" The rest of her words dissolved into incoherent sobs.

Elara froze, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. "Stop. You’re being ridiculous."

But Amberine couldn’t stop. The weight of everything—the fear, the uncertainty, the relief—crashed over her like a tidal wave. For the first time since her ordeal, she allowed herself to feel it all.

Maris watched with a mix of concern and amusement. "I’ve never seen her cry like this," she said, her voice soft.

Professor Astrid approached, her expression kind but serious. "Let’s get her inside," she suggested. "There’s much to discuss."

Inside the lab, Amberine sat with Maris, Elara, and Astrid. The professor placed a cup of tea in front of her, its steam curling gently in the air. "I’m sorry I wasn’t there," Astrid began, her voice warm but firm. "I had to prepare reports for the university. But we’ve all been worried about you."

Amberine nodded, her fingers wrapping around the cup. The warmth grounded her, easing some of the tension in her chest.

"You’re safe now," Astrid continued. "And you’ve shown incredible resilience. But there’s something we need to know."

Amberine looked up, meeting the professor’s gaze. Astrid’s expression had shifted, her eyes sharp with focus.

"What happened to Professor Draven?" she asked, her voice low but insistent.

Amberine’s grip on the cup tightened as the question hung in the air.