The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 473: The Village of Tranquillity

The morning sun spilled across the fields of Lindholm, casting long shadows of trees over the rolling hills. Kael Aurenhart tightened his grip on the wooden hoe, leaning his weight into the task of tilling the stubborn earth. Each stroke of the hoe sent small clumps of soil scattering, the resistance of the dry ground a reminder of the long summer past. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping down his temple, and clinging to the collar of his shirt as he worked. Around him, the rhythmic chirping of birds mingled with the rustling of the wind through the tall grass, a symphony of life that made the arduous labor feel marginally lighter.

"Kael! Are you daydreaming again?" A sharp, teasing voice called out from the edge of the field, cutting through the tranquil melody of nature.

Kael paused mid-swing, glancing up to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. Standing at the edge of the field, Garrick, the village’s wiry hunter and occasional taskmaster, had his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in mock impatience. The older man’s expression, a mixture of amusement and disapproval, made Kael chuckle under his breath.

"If you’re gonna finish before the sun sets, you’d better focus. These crops don’t plant themselves," Garrick added, motioning with his head toward the unworked rows.

Kael wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, flashing a faint grin. "I wasn’t daydreaming," he muttered, though his mind had indeed been wandering, as it often did, to far-off places he’d only heard about in stories.

"Sure you weren’t," Garrick replied with a smirk, before heading off toward the village, his figure soon swallowed by the rolling hills.

Kael turned back to his task, digging into the soil with renewed determination. Yet, despite his best efforts to focus, his thoughts continued to drift, carried by the wind to places beyond the horizon. Places where adventure and purpose awaited—at least, that’s what the stories told him. The village of Lindholm, picturesque with its thatched-roof cottages and dense forest bordering the farmland, was a sanctuary for many. But to Kael, it was starting to feel like a gilded cage, one he longed to escape.

A sudden laugh rang out behind him. "Kael! There you are! Don’t tell me you’re still stuck out here in the fields like a proper farmhand."

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Kael turned, his lips tugging into a genuine smile as Amy, his childhood friend, strode toward him. Her fiery red hair gleamed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the simple earth tones of her traveling cloak. She carried herself with an energy that seemed to belong to a place far grander than Lindholm. A playful glint sparkled in her green eyes as she approached.

"Not all of us can sit around conjuring sparks and pretending it’s magic practice," Kael shot back, leaning on his hoe.

Amy’s mock indignation was immediate. "Sparks? I’ll have you know my magic’s flame is more than sparks." She extended a hand dramatically, and a small flicker of fire leapt to life in her palm. It danced for a moment before disappearing with a faint puff. "See?"

"Oh, I’m convinced," Kael said dryly, though the truth was, he was impressed. Amy’s talent had always been evident.

Amy rolled her eyes, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the village square. "Come on. You’ve been out here long enough. Let’s sit under the Oak before Elder Valin spots us and starts another lecture about ’the virtues of hard work.’"

Kael allowed himself to be led, his protests half-hearted. The Sacred Oak loomed large as they entered the square, its gnarled branches reaching skyward, casting intricate patterns of shade over the bustling scene below. Beneath its sprawling canopy, merchants enthusiastically hawked their wares, their voices overlapping in a chaotic yet rhythmic melody. Children darted between market stalls, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes, while a blacksmith’s steady hammer strikes resonated from his nearby forge, each clang a reminder of the village’s steady heartbeat. The air was filled with the mingling scents of fresh bread, cured meats, and the sharp tang of molten metal. It was a lively scene that spoke of life and community, a snapshot of Lindholm’s charm. Yet for Kael, it all felt like a carefully painted backdrop, one that only accentuated the restlessness stirring deep within him.

Amy plopped down on the grass, patting the spot beside her. "Sit, dreamer."

Kael obliged, dropping onto the ground with a sigh. "You’re unusually chipper today. What’s the occasion?"

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"What makes you think there’s an occasion?" Amy’s grin widened, betraying her excitement.

"Because you’re practically buzzing. Spit it out."

She leaned back against the tree trunk, her expression softening. "Father’s taking me to Theron."

Kael blinked. "Theron? Why?"

"To prepare for the Magic Tower University entrance exam when I’m older," Amberine said, her voice brimming with determination. "He says I have a real shot at getting in. And once I’m there, I’ll become a court magician… maybe even one of the kingdom’s top mages. Father said that he’s going to work in a research together with a great family... Was it called Dragon? Darken? I forgot!"

Kael stared at her, a mix of pride and something unnameable twisting in his chest. "That’s… incredible, Amy. Really."

"You don’t sound excited." She nudged him with her foot, her teasing tone masking the flicker of doubt in her eyes. "Don’t tell me you’re jealous."

"Of course not." He laughed, but it sounded hollow to his own ears. "I’m just… going to miss having you around to keep me on my toes."

Her playful expression faltered, replaced by something more sincere. "Kael, you’ll always be my best friend. Even if I’m in Theron or the Magic Tower, you’ll… you’ll always be important to me."

He swallowed hard, nodding. "Same here."

They sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the village fading into the background. Kael tried to imagine Lindholm without Amberine’s fiery presence and found the thought unbearable.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by the arrival of a group of travelers, their clothes dusty and faces grim. The village square shifted, tension rippling through the air as they approached Elder Valin.

Kael and Amy exchanged a glance before standing to join the gathering crowd.

"Orcs," one of the travelers said, his voice hoarse. "A raiding party spotted in the northern woods. They’re not far. Looks like ther owuld be some raids."

"Damn it, goblins are troublesome enough, but now there are an orc colony as well," another one cursed.

The villagers erupted into nervous murmurs. Elder Valin raised a hand, his voice calm but firm. "We must prepare. Garrick, see to the defenses."

Kael nodded, stepping forward to follow Garrick. "What do you need me to do?"

"Help me reinforce the barricades," Garrick said, his tone brisk. "If those orcs make it here, we’ll need every second we can buy."

As Kael worked alongside the hunter, his eyes often drifted toward Amy, who stood near the perimeter with Elder Valin. Her fiery hair caught the fading light, a vivid beacon against the backdrop of the forest. She raised her hands, her expression a mixture of determination and focus, as arcs of flame danced in the air around her. The shimmering heat warped the view behind her, the barriers she conjured crackling with raw energy. Under Valin’s guidance, she adjusted the flow of her magic, the elder’s calm voice instructing her to widen the protective spells. Kael couldn’t help but feel a swell of admiration as he watched her; the firelight reflected in her eyes seemed to magnify the determination in her expression. Even as the tension thickened in the air, she moved with unwavering confidence, her talent shining through with each spell.

Among the travelers, a cloaked figure stood apart, their posture exuding an unsettling calm amidst the tense atmosphere. The villagers’ hurried preparations seemed to ripple around them, unnoticed. Their gaze, sharp and deliberate, locked onto Kael, and they began to move forward with an unnerving grace.

Kael felt the weight of their presence before they spoke, an inexplicable pull that made him pause mid-task. The figure stopped a few steps away, their face obscured by the deep shadows of their hood. A faint aura of something—powerful and ancient—seemed to emanate from them, raising the hairs on Kael’s arms.

"You," the figure intoned, their voice low and resonant, like distant thunder. It was calm but carried an edge of authority that brooked no argument. "Your strength will shape more than this village’s fate. Protect what you hold dear, but be ready to leave it behind."

Kael froze, his fingers tightening instinctively around the tool in his hand. The words struck him like a physical blow, heavy with meaning yet shrouded in ambiguity. "Who are you?" he managed, his voice barely above a whisper, but the figure offered no answer.

Instead, they tilted their head slightly, as if weighing Kael’s reaction, before turning away. The long folds of their cloak swayed with their movements, and within moments, they had melted into the crowd, vanishing as suddenly as they had appeared. Kael stood rooted in place, his mind reeling. The cryptic words lingered, an unwelcome echo that seemed to etch itself into his thoughts.

He scanned the crowd for any trace of the mysterious figure but found nothing. Around him, the villagers continued their frantic preparations, oblivious to the encounter. Kael’s heart thudded in his chest, a strange mix of unease and curiosity building within him. The figure’s voice replayed in his mind, each word carrying a weight he could not yet comprehend.

"Just what was that...?"

____

The orc threat passed with barely a ripple, their solitary raider spotted by the village scouts veering away from Lindholm without engaging. For days, the villagers buzzed with cautious optimism, their relief palpable as they dismantled hastily built barricades and returned to their routines. Garrick, always pragmatic, dismissed the lone orc’s appearance as a fluke, but a faint unease lingered in the village.

Kael, however, found himself more distracted than relieved. The stranger’s cryptic words echoed in his mind, growing heavier with each passing day. He replayed the encounter in his thoughts, the weight of their gaze and the authority in their tone settling like a stone in his chest. While others moved forward, focusing on the safety that had been preserved, Kael grappled with the unshakable feeling that something far larger loomed on the horizon.

As the days stretched on, the village began to settle back into its tranquil rhythm. The fields once again became Kael’s daily battleground, though his mind strayed from the soil beneath his hands to the horizon beyond it. Amy, too, was preoccupied, helping her father prepare their wagon for departure. Their laughter, once so natural, grew tinged with a bittersweet edge, as if both were bracing for the inevitable goodbye.

"Kael, stop brooding," Amy teased one afternoon, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness. They stood near the Sacred Oak, its sprawling branches casting shifting shadows over the village square. "You’re acting like I’m leaving forever."

"You’re not exactly coming back tomorrow," Kael retorted, though he managed a faint grin. His eyes lingered on her face, memorizing the spark in her eyes and the defiant set of her jaw.

"Theron’s not that far," Amy said, trying to sound casual, though the hitch in her voice betrayed her own uncertainty. "I’ll write. And when I’m a famous magician, you’ll have an excuse to visit the capital."

"Famous?" Kael quipped, his grin growing. "You mean infamous."

Amy punched his arm lightly, though the laughter that followed felt more like a defense against the silence threatening to engulf them. The days blurred together after that, each one carrying them closer to the moment Kael dreaded most.

On the morning of her departure, Lindholm seemed quieter than usual. The wagon was packed, the wheels creaking under the weight of their belongings. Villagers gathered to offer farewells, their voices subdued as if to preserve the solemnity of the moment. Amy stood by the wagon, her usual bravado muted as she glanced between Kael and her family.

"Don’t forget me," she said softly, her fingers toying with the hem of her cloak. For once, her fiery confidence wavered, and Kael saw the vulnerable girl beneath the aspiring magician.

Kael stepped forward, holding out a small wooden charm he’d carved. The figure was simple but carefully crafted, its curves polished smooth from hours of work. "For luck," he said, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. "Not that you’ll need it."

Amy’s lips curved into a tremulous smile as she took the charm, her fingers brushing his for a fleeting moment. "Thanks, Kael. You really are the best. I’ll write—I promise."

As the wagon rolled away, Kael stood rooted beneath the Sacred Oak, watching until it disappeared from view. Around him, the village began to stir again, life resuming its familiar cadence. Yet for Kael, the silence left in Amy’s absence felt deafening, a hollow ache that settled deep within. Even as days turned into weeks, the stranger’s words and Amy’s departure fueled a growing restlessness in him, a quiet determination beginning to take root in the void she left behind.

"Now I’m alone, huh...?"