The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Amberine's boots pounded against the cobblestones as she raced after the beggar, her fiery temper flaring up with every step.

"Hey, you thief! Give it back!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the buildings. Her eyes were narrowed, fixed on the figure that darted through the shadows just ahead of her. Her face was flushed, both from anger and exertion, as she tried to keep up with the man who had supposedly stolen her wallet. The tight, winding alleys twisted unpredictably, and Amberine barely registered her surroundings. She was too focused on her pursuit, her Ifrit spirit's warmth flaring beneath her robes in response to her frustration.

Maris followed closely behind, her breath coming out in quick puffs, her feet barely making a sound as they hit the ground. She knew Amberine's temperament all too well—if her friend got worked up enough, there was no telling what she might do. She couldn't leave Amberine alone, especially not here in the slums, where danger lurked in every darkened corner. Maris struggled to keep her illusion magic in check—in her anxiousness, her fingers itched to create a distraction, something to slow Amberine down before they got in over their heads. But there was no time; Amberine was too far ahead, her figure almost disappearing in the dimming light.

The deeper they went, the more the atmosphere around them seemed to change. The bustling life of the marketplace was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness that made Maris's stomach twist in discomfort. The buildings here were old, their facades cracked, the windows shattered and empty like soulless eyes watching them. The narrow paths became a labyrinth of tight turns, some alleys so tight that Amberine had to shoulder her way through. Maris stumbled slightly, her eyes darting from side to side. The tension in the air was thick, an oppressive feeling that seemed to seep through the walls and cling to her skin.

"Amberine, wait!" Maris called out, her voice barely a gasp as she tried to catch her breath. "We should think this through… we don't even know if he has your wallet!"

Amberine didn't seem to hear her. She rounded another corner, her body tense and her eyes ablaze. She was stubborn, and when she was angry, it was like trying to reason with a fire—once ignited, it consumed everything in its path. Maris's heart pounded in her chest, her instincts telling her that something wasn't right. This place was different from the usual areas of the city—it was too quiet, too desolate, and every instinct told her to turn around. But there was no way she was leaving Amberine alone.

The beggar ahead of them slipped through a narrow doorway of an old, decrepit building. Without a moment of hesitation, Amberine shoved the door open, the rusted hinges creaking loudly as she forced her way inside. Maris winced at the noise, quickly following her friend into the darkness beyond.

The air inside the building was stale, the light almost non-existent save for a few dim rays filtering through the cracks in the wall. Dust particles floated in the air, dancing in the thin beams of light as Amberine's boots crunched over the wooden floor. The place smelled of mildew and decay, and the temperature seemed to drop the moment they stepped inside. Maris's skin prickled with unease, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dimness as she tried to take in their surroundings.

"Where did he go?" Amberine muttered, her voice low but still edged with frustration. She moved deeper into the room, her eyes scanning for any sign of the beggar. Her wallet was important, but for Maris, the thought of getting caught in a trap in this abandoned place was far more concerning.

"I don't know," Maris said, her own voice barely a whisper. She glanced around, noting the broken furniture scattered across the floor, the cobwebs hanging in thick clusters from the ceiling. Everything looked untouched, as though no one had set foot in this place for years. It was hard to imagine anyone wanting to hide here—even the shadows felt heavy, the silence unnerving.

Suddenly, a sound echoed from somewhere deeper within the house—a soft scuffle, followed by a faint creak. Amberine's head snapped around, her eyes narrowing. "There!" she hissed, already moving toward the source of the noise.

Maris followed, her senses on high alert. They passed through a narrow hallway, the floorboards groaning beneath their weight, and entered a larger room. Against one wall stood a fireplace, its stone darkened by years of soot and grime. The beggar was there, his back turned to them, his movements hurried as he crouched by the hearth.

Amberine's eyes flashed. "Hey! Stop right there!" she shouted, charging forward.

The beggar's head snapped up, and for a split second, Maris caught a glimpse of his face—wild eyes, his features twisted with fear. Before they could react, the beggar leaped into the fireplace, disappearing into the dark opening as if swallowed by the shadows. Amberine skidded to a stop, her eyes widening in shock.@@novelbin@@

"Did he just…?" Maris began, her voice trailing off in disbelief. Amberine didn't wait for her to finish. Without a moment's hesitation, she rushed toward the fireplace, her determination outweighing any sense of caution.

"Amberine, wait!" Maris shouted, but it was too late. Amberine threw herself into the fireplace, disappearing into the darkness. Maris's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She hesitated, fear clawing at her insides. But leaving Amberine alone in whatever lay beyond was not an option. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before leaping in after her friend.

The darkness enveloped her, and for a moment, there was nothing but a weightless, empty void. Then she landed with a thud, her knees buckling as she hit solid ground. The air was different here—thicker, heavier, as if it carried some unseen weight. Maris took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she looked around.

The room they had landed in was similar to the one they had just left—old, decrepit, with broken furniture scattered across the floor. But something about it felt wrong. The air was thick with an unnatural chill, and the shadows seemed to shift and move, as if alive. Maris's stomach twisted in unease as she pushed herself to her feet, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of Amberine.

Amberine was already standing, her eyes wide as she looked around. Her wallet was clutched tightly in her hands, her knuckles white as she stared at it in confusion. "Maris…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "My wallet… it's here. It's still full. Everything's still inside."

Maris frowned, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. Amberine's wallet, which they had chased the beggar for, was indeed intact—as if it had never been taken at all. Maris's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what was happening. She opened her mouth to speak, but then she heard it—a voice, low and muffled, coming from somewhere beyond the walls.

"Quiet," Maris hissed, pressing a finger to her lips as she moved closer to Amberine. She covered her own mouth with her hand, signaling for silence. Amberine's eyes widened, and she nodded, her breath hitching as she followed Maris's lead.

The voices grew louder, their words now barely audible through the thick stone walls. Maris strained to listen, her heart pounding as she tried to make out what they were saying.

"The symposium… perfect opportunity… bring chaos and mayhem… instill fear…" one voice said, the words sending a chill down Maris's spine. She turned to look at Amberine, her eyes wide with fear.

"Sacrifices have been gathered… enough to begin the ritual…"

Maris's blood ran cold. Her eyes darted to the walls, and that was when she saw them—strange symbols, carved into the stone, glowing faintly in the dim light. She recognized them, but they shouldn't have been here. The markings were similar to those used by the Deadly Hollows, the very group that she and Draven had fought against, the group she thought they had eradicated. But there was something different about these symbols—they were darker, more complex.

"No…" Maris whispered, her breath catching in her throat. "This isn't the Deadly Hollows…" Her eyes widened as realization struck her, the name forming in her mind like a dark whisper. "The Devil Coffin… one of the deadliest demon-worshipping organizations on the continent…"

Amberine looked at her, her face pale. "What do we do?" she mouthed, her voice barely a whisper.

Maris's mind raced, her thoughts a blur. She wanted to gather more information, to understand what they were planning. The symposium—it was a gathering of the most powerful mages in the kingdom. If the Devil Coffin was planning something, it could be catastrophic. She took a step closer to the wall, straining to hear more of the conversation.

But then, suddenly, the voices stopped. The silence was deafening, and Maris felt her heart skip a beat. She looked at Amberine, her eyes wide with fear. They had been noticed.

The air in the room shifted, a heavy pressure bearing down on them, making it difficult to breathe. Maris's eyes darted around, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel it—someone was watching them, their gaze like a physical weight pressing down on her.

Then, without warning, Ifrit's voice echoed from beneath Amberine's robe, his tone urgent. "Amberine! Run!"

Maris didn't need any more prompting. She grabbed Amberine's arm, her wand already in her other hand. With a quick flick of her wrist, she slammed the wand to the ground, a burst of purple smoke erupting around them. The room filled with the thick, choking smoke, obscuring their figures as Maris pulled Amberine toward the nearest window.

"Go!" Maris shouted, her voice muffled by the smoke as she pushed Amberine forward. Amberine didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arms around Maris, her magic flaring to life as flames erupted beneath them, propelling them upward. They burst through the window, the glass shattering around them as they landed on the roof of an old, uninhabited wagon parked below.

The impact jarred them both, but there was no time to dwell on the pain. They scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide as they looked around. The air was thick with menace, and Maris's heart pounded in her chest as she sensed it—dark, fog-like presences moving toward them, their shapes barely visible in the shadows.

"Run!" Maris shouted, her voice filled with urgency as she grabbed Amberine's hand, pulling her forward. They sprinted down the narrow alley, their footsteps echoing off the walls as they ran, the dark fog pursuing them, growing closer with every step.