The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The flickering embers of the dying fire cast faint, wavering shadows across the clearing. Kael tightened his grip on his sword, the worn leather of the hilt reassuring against his palm. The glowing eyes circling him in the dark reflected the dim firelight, unblinking and predatory. A low growl rippled through the night air, deep and resonant. It wasn't a challenge—it was a warning.

The wolves weren't in any hurry. They didn't need to be.

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Kael's legs ached from maintaining a low, defensive stance. His muscles burned from the tension, but he didn't dare relax. He shifted his weight slightly, trying to ease the pressure on his knees without making too much noise. The wolves would notice anything. Every growl, every rustle in the bushes, gnawed at his nerves, but he kept his breathing steady. Garrick's voice echoed in his memory: "Predators are patient. They'll wait until you're vulnerable." He swallowed hard, trying to banish the knot forming in his stomach.

They're waiting for me to make a mistake, he thought. Or to tire. They can see it coming. Hell, I can feel it coming.

He could make out their shapes now as they circled closer, their fur blending seamlessly with the shadows of the forest. The fire's light only reached so far, and beyond it was darkness, thick and impenetrable. He wasn't sure how many there were. Three, maybe four. Their glowing eyes and low growls seemed to move, weaving and crisscrossing, keeping him guessing.

Kael tightened his grip on the sword. The blade felt heavier than it had that morning. His shoulders ached, his arm muscles burning with the effort of holding it ready for so long. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back, cold and clammy in the chill of the night.@@novelbin@@

His jaw clenched, and he whispered to himself, "Stay calm. Think." The sound of his own voice was almost foreign in the oppressive silence, but it kept him grounded.

A growl, closer this time, broke his train of thought. His gaze snapped to the source, and for a fleeting moment, he locked eyes with one of the wolves. Its stare was unnervingly intelligent, a challenge and a promise all at once. He took a step back, his boot brushing against the edge of the fire's circle. The wolf's ears twitched, and it froze, its posture poised to pounce. The others shifted in response, their movements fluid and deliberate.

Kael's heart hammered in his chest, but he forced himself to stay steady. He couldn't afford to panic.

He glanced at the fire. The embers offered little deterrent now, their faint glow barely illuminating the clearing. Stoking the flames would mean turning his back on the wolves, even if only for a moment. He dismissed the thought. It was too dangerous. But leaving the fire as it was meant his already small advantage would vanish entirely.

His mind raced through his options. Fight now? Risk injury or worse against a pack that knew how to work together better than he ever could. Wait? Hope they lost interest? But wolves weren't known for giving up easily. Once they'd marked prey, they rarely stopped until they'd claimed it.

His chest tightened.

Courage isn't recklessness, Elder Valin's voice echoed in his thoughts.

It's finding strength in calculated risks.

Kael's grip on his sword loosened slightly as he adjusted his stance. He needed a middle ground—something that gave him a chance to control the fight on his terms. Slowly, carefully, he shifted toward the edge of the clearing. The wolves watched, their glowing eyes narrowing, their movements mirroring his. They could see what he was doing, and they didn't like it.

His hand brushed against a pile of sticks he'd collected earlier for the fire. He crouched, his sword still in hand, and grabbed as many as he could without breaking his line of sight with the wolves. His movements were deliberate, careful not to jolt or startle them into attacking. The sticks felt rough and splintered in his grip, but they were dry enough to burn. He just needed to hope they'd catch quickly.

Kael backed toward the fire, inching closer with agonizing slowness. The wolves paced him, their growls deepening. One of them let out a sharp bark, and Kael froze, his breath catching in his throat. The pack shifted, their movements becoming more erratic, more aggressive. He could feel their frustration building, like a storm about to break.

The moment stretched on, unbearable and taut. Then Kael made his move. He dropped the sticks onto the embers and struck the flint and steel he'd shoved into his belt. Sparks flew, and for a heart-stopping second, nothing happened. Then the fire roared to life, flames licking upward hungrily, casting the clearing in sudden, searing light.

The wolves flinched, retreating a few paces, their growls turning to uncertain whines. Kael didn't waste the opportunity. He repositioned himself with his back to a thick tree, limiting the angles from which they could attack. The firelight didn't reach far, but it was enough to keep the wolves from charging immediately. For now.

Kael tightened his grip on the sword, every muscle in his body straining against the mounting pressure. His breathing came in shallow, controlled bursts as he scanned the shadows, each flicker of movement making his pulse quicken. The wolves weren't gone, only delayed, their glowing eyes reflecting the dim firelight like twin beacons of menace. They moved just beyond the circle of light, their silhouettes merging with the darkness, pacing and restless. Each step they took was deliberate, their patience unnerving. Kael could feel the weight of their predatory focus pressing down on him, waiting for the tiniest misstep.

One of the wolves—a larger one with thick, matted fur—paused and turned its head toward the firelight, its ears twitching. The low growl that rumbled from its throat was almost a vibration, deep and resonant. Kael's grip on his sword tightened further, the worn leather hilt digging into his palm. He could see the glint of sharp teeth as the wolf's lips curled back, its intent crystal clear.

The pack moved like shadows come to life, their movements coordinated and fluid. Kael felt the tension rising in the air, a palpable charge that threatened to snap at any moment. They were waiting for him to falter again—to stumble, to show weakness. The thought gnawed at his resolve, but he pushed it aside. He knew the game they were playing: they wanted him exhausted, unsure, and most of all, vulnerable.

Sweat trickled down his temple, cold despite the fire's heat. His back ached from the strain of holding his defensive stance, and his legs felt as though they might give out at any moment. But he refused to show it. Every growl, every rustle of leaves, tested his focus, but Kael forced himself to remain steady. He wouldn't give them what they wanted. Not yet.

The first attack came without warning. One of the wolves darted into the clearing, its teeth bared in a snarl. Kael sidestepped, bringing his sword down in a swift arc. The blade bit into the wolf's flank, and it yelped, skidding away. Blood splattered onto the ground, dark and glistening in the firelight.

The pack howled in unison, a chilling sound that sent a shiver down Kael's spine. It was a signal. A rallying cry.

They came at him together. Kael swung his sword with desperate precision, his movements guided more by instinct than thought. One wolf lunged at his side, and he barely managed to bring his blade up in time, the impact jarring his arm. Another darted in from behind, its teeth snapping at his leg. Kael kicked out, connecting with its jaw, but the movement left him open. Sharp pain seared through his arm as a third wolf's teeth sank into his flesh.

He gritted his teeth, twisting violently as the wolf's jaws dug deeper into his arm. Pain flared, sharp and searing, but he refused to let it overwhelm him. "Get off!" he snarled, driving the hilt of his sword into the wolf's skull with all the strength he could muster. The crack of impact reverberated through his hand, and the wolf let out a pained yelp, releasing him and staggering back. Blood soaked through his sleeve, warm and sticky, running down his arm in rivulets. Kael barely had time to register the injury before another wolf launched itself at him, its eyes wild and teeth bared.

"Damn it!" Kael shouted, swinging his sword upward in a desperate arc. The blade caught the wolf mid-air, piercing through its chest with a sickening crunch. The creature let out a pitiful whimper, its momentum carrying it forward until it crumpled at his feet. Kael staggered back, his breath ragged as the coppery scent of blood filled the clearing. He wiped sweat and blood from his brow with a trembling hand, his grip on the sword tightening despite the burning in his arms.

"You want more?" he growled, his voice raw. His gaze flicked to the remaining wolves, their yellow eyes glowing with a mixture of hunger and hesitation. "Come on, then! Let's finish this!" The words felt bold, but the tremor in his legs betrayed his exhaustion. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. Still, he raised his sword again, daring them to make their move.

Kael staggered back, his chest heaving. The remaining wolves hesitated, their eyes flicking between him and their fallen packmates. He could see their hunger warring with their caution. They weren't giving up, not yet.

The next attack was sloppier, more desperate. Kael used his surroundings, kicking up dirt to blind one wolf before slashing at another. His satchel swung wildly as he moved, and he grabbed it, hurling it at the nearest wolf. The unexpected projectile startled the animal, giving him just enough time to drive his blade into its side.

The pack's resolve finally broke. The last two wolves lingered at the edge of the clearing, their growls quieter now, their confidence shaken. Kael didn't wait for them to regroup. He advanced, bloodied and battered, his sword held steady despite the tremor in his hands.

"Go," he growled, his voice hoarse.

One wolf bolted, disappearing into the trees. The other hesitated, its gaze locked on him. Kael took another step forward, his expression unwavering. The wolf let out a low whine before retreating into the shadows.

The clearing fell silent except for the crackling fire and Kael's ragged breaths. He dropped to his knees, the sword slipping from his grasp to rest in the blood-soaked dirt. His arms hung limply at his sides, every muscle in his body screaming in protest.

The scent of blood was thick in the air, metallic and sharp. Kael's gaze fell on the bodies of the fallen wolves, their lifeless forms a stark reminder of how close he'd come to death. He knew the smell would attract more predators if he stayed.

Gritting his teeth, Kael forced himself to move. He doused the fire with handfuls of dirt, choking out the flames until only smoke remained. The clearing plunged into darkness, and Kael had to rely on the faint light of the moon to guide him as he stumbled away.

His steps were uneven, his legs dragging as exhaustion threatened to overtake him. The forest seemed alive with movement, every rustle and snap of a branch setting his nerves on edge. He clutched his wounded arm, the makeshift bandage he'd tied earlier already soaked through.

"Just keep moving," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. The sound of his own words was a fragile comfort, a reminder that he was still alive.

The night felt endless. Time lost all meaning as Kael trudged through the forest, his body running on sheer willpower. When the first light of dawn broke through the trees, it was like a lifeline. The golden hues painted the forest in warmth, banishing the oppressive shadows of the night.

Kael stumbled into a secluded glade, its stillness a stark contrast to the chaos he'd endured. A small stream meandered through the center, its clear water glinting in the morning light. He collapsed by the edge, dipping his hands into the cold water and splashing it onto his face. The sting of the chill brought clarity, and he drank deeply, the liquid soothing his parched throat.

He peeled off his makeshift bandage, grimacing at the jagged wound beneath. It wasn't deep enough to be life-threatening, but it throbbed with every movement. He washed it carefully, the water running red as it carried away the blood.

Using fallen branches and his cloak, Kael constructed a crude shelter. It wasn't much, but it offered a sense of security. He sat beneath it, pulling out the last of his rations. The charred bread was dry and bitter, but he forced it down, knowing he needed the energy.

As he rested, the events of the night replayed in his mind. The harsh reality of traveling alone weighed heavily on him. He'd underestimated the dangers, the toll it would take on his body and mind.

But despite everything, he'd survived.

Kael leaned back against the branches of his shelter, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. As sleep claimed him, one thought lingered, clear and resolute.

If this is the start, I need to be smarter, faster, and stronger. For them. For me.