The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Kael's hand brushed instinctively against the pouch at his side, only to meet the bare leather strap dangling loosely. His breath caught, a wave of realization crashing over him. He spun on his heel, scanning the bustling marketplace with wild eyes. Among the vibrant chaos of vendors and their colorful stalls, a small figure darted between the throng, moving faster than the crowd's natural flow. The faint jingle of coins gave them away.

"Thief!" Kael's voice cut through the noise, sharp and desperate. Heads turned, but no one moved to help. A few curious glances followed the fleeing figure, but the marketplace had its own rhythm, and disruptions like this were just part of its melody. Kael bolted forward, weaving through the mass of bodies, his heart pounding in his chest.

The thief was small and quick, darting through narrow gaps between vendors and carts with the agility of someone who had done this countless times before. Kael's larger frame worked against him, his boots striking the cobblestones with loud, deliberate thuds as he struggled to match the thief's pace. Each step sent jolts of determination through him, but his efforts seemed clumsy in comparison to the thief's fluid movements. As he shoved through the crowd, a startled merchant shouted, his hand shooting out to steady a precariously balanced display of clay pots. One pot teetered on the edge before shattering on the ground with a sharp crack.

"Watch it, idiot!" the merchant bellowed, his voice tinged with outrage, but Kael barely registered the words. His focus was singular, locked onto the fleeting figure ahead as it disappeared behind a brightly colored fruit stall.

Kael's mind raced alongside his body, noting the quick, calculated movements of the thief. "They know this market too well," he thought, his breath coming in sharp bursts. His eyes darted to the fruit stall where the thief had vanished, scanning for a flash of movement. A jingle of coins reached his ears, faint but unmistakable, spurring him forward. He barreled through a tight cluster of shoppers, their startled cries trailing behind him like the wake of a storm.

Ahead, the thief veered left, slipping between two vendors haggling over their wares. Kael tried to follow, his shoulder grazing a hanging rack of cured meats and sending sausages tumbling to the ground. He heard the curses of the vendor but didn't dare look back. "Too slow," his thoughts taunted him. "You'll lose them if you don't move faster."

A cart suddenly blocked his path, laden high with wooden crates precariously stacked. The vendor pulling it paused, startled by the commotion, but Kael didn't have time to wait. Summoning a burst of energy, he leapt over the edge of the cart. His boot clipped a corner crate, and it crashed to the ground with a splintering sound, scattering its contents of dried herbs across the cobblestones. He landed awkwardly, pain jolting through his knee, but momentum carried him forward.

"Sorry!" Kael shouted over his shoulder, the apology more reflexive than sincere. The thief glanced back, their hood shifting just enough to reveal the sharp line of a young jaw before they ducked into a narrow alley. Kael cursed under his breath, pushing harder despite the burn in his lungs and the ache in his legs.

The alley was damp and dimly lit, the walls close enough to brush his shoulders. The thief's smaller frame allowed them to slip through effortlessly, while Kael's bulk slowed him down. His boots skidded on the slick ground, forcing him to throw out a hand to steady himself against the cold stone wall. Ahead, the thief knocked over a stack of crates, their contents spilling into the narrow path. Kael vaulted over them, his movements less graceful but effective enough to maintain the chase. Enjoy exclusive adventures from My Virtual Library Empire

"Not this time," he growled under his breath, his eyes narrowing with renewed determination.

Ahead, the thief turned sharply, knocking over a small stack of crates in their wake. Kael cursed, leaping over them with less grace than he'd hoped. The crates wobbled beneath his weight, and one toppled over as he landed, sending a cascade of rotting vegetables spilling across the alley floor. He stumbled but didn't fall.

The alley opened up into a quieter part of the market, and Kael's heart leapt as he spotted the thief scrambling up a pile of crates stacked against a building. They reached the rooftop with practiced ease, vanishing over the edge.

Kael hesitated for only a moment before following. The crates groaned under his weight, one slipping slightly as he climbed. His fingers gripped the rough edge of the rooftop, and with a grunt, he hauled himself up. His chest heaved as he stood, his boots shifting on the uneven tiles.

The rooftops of Theron's Rest were a patchwork of overlapping shingles and precarious ledges. The thief was already several strides ahead, moving with a confidence that made Kael feel painfully out of his depth. He forced himself forward, his eyes locked on the small figure.

"Get back here!" he yelled, though his voice was hoarse with exertion.

The thief didn't respond, instead leaping effortlessly to the next rooftop. The gap between the buildings was wide, and Kael's stomach turned as he approached it. He hesitated, his legs trembling slightly as he judged the distance. The thief glanced back briefly, their hood slipping just enough to reveal a glimpse of a young face before they disappeared.

Kael swallowed hard, bracing himself. With a burst of adrenaline, he sprinted forward and jumped. His boots struck the edge of the opposing rooftop, but his footing faltered. He dropped to one knee, his palms scraping against the rough tiles to steady himself. Pain flared in his knee, but he pushed it aside, forcing himself to his feet.

The thief had gained ground, their figure growing smaller as they darted across the rooftops. Kael gritted his teeth, his determination outweighing the exhaustion clawing at his muscles. He chased them to the edge of another building, but as he reached it, the thief disappeared into the shadows of an alley below.

Kael skidded to a halt, his chest heaving. He scanned the alley, but the thief was gone. Frustration boiled over, and he let out a growl, his fists clenching at his sides. He dropped down into the alley, landing heavily and nearly buckling as his legs gave out. Leaning against the cold stone wall, he tried to catch his breath, his vision blurring slightly from the effort.

"Damn it," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the distant noise of the marketplace. "Damn it all."

The weight of failure pressed heavily on him, an almost metallic bitterness settling in the back of his throat as if his own body betrayed the moment's humiliation. He had let them get away. His hard-earned coin, the tangible proof of his fledgling efforts as an adventurer, snatched and gone in an instant. The enormity of it settled in his chest like a stone, his breaths coming shallow and uneven. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the complete collapse of his adrenaline-fueled pursuit. The energy that had driven him forward now ebbed, leaving him hollow, each limb feeling leaden and useless.

Kael leaned heavily against the cold stone wall of the alley, its rough texture biting into his palms as he slid down to sit on the damp ground. The stench of rotting vegetables and damp refuse filled his senses, adding to the sting of his failure. He glanced up at the narrow strip of twilight visible between the buildings, his chest heaving with every labored breath. His mind replayed the chase in excruciating detail—the missteps, the hesitations, the moments he could have pushed harder. His lips moved, shaping silent curses, but his voice was too hoarse to carry them.

For a fleeting moment, his hand brushed instinctively to the empty loop at his belt where his pouch had once hung, as though some magical reversal might restore it. The absence struck him afresh, twisting the knife of frustration deeper into his chest. With a low growl, he slammed his fist against the ground, the dull pain offering a pitiful counterpoint to the fire of anger inside him.

"Damn it," he muttered, his voice hoarse and barely audible in the quiet of the alley. "Damn it all."

He dragged his gaze back down to the cobblestones, their uneven surfaces slick with a mixture of rainwater and grime. Somewhere out there, the thief was probably celebrating their haul, laughing at the hapless rookie adventurer who had been so easy to outmaneuver. The thought burned, and Kael clenched his fists tighter, his nails biting into his palms. The lessons of the day rang clear in his mind: the city was unforgiving, its pace faster and its stakes higher than anything he'd known. He couldn't afford to falter like this again.

By the time Kael made it back to The Rusted Lantern, the sky had turned a deep shade of orange, the sun dipping below the horizon. His clothes were dirty and torn, his boots scuffed and damp. Each step felt heavier than the last as he pushed open the inn's door. Bertram, the innkeeper, gave him a disapproving glance but said nothing. The quiet judgment was almost worse than words.

Kael climbed the stairs to his room, his mind a whirlwind of frustration and self-recrimination. When he pushed the door open, the sight of Liora lounging on the bed greeted him like a slap to the face. The rogue was juggling a small coin pouch absentmindedly, his smirk widening as he noticed Kael's disheveled state.

"Rough day, hero?" Liora drawled, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.

Kael glared at him, his voice tight. "I got robbed."

Liora burst into laughter, leaning back against the headboard. "Oh, that's rich. First day in the city, and you've already lost your shiny new adventurer money."

Kael's jaw tightened, his fists clenching. "It's not funny."

"No, it's hilarious," Liora replied, wiping a tear from his eye. "But don't worry, hero. You'll learn. Eventually."

Kael turned away, his frustration simmering just below the surface. He dropped onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight, and stared at the ceiling, the dim glow from the streetlights filtering through the window casting uneven shadows on the walls. Every muscle in his body ached, his legs heavy and trembling from the chase that had led to nothing but a hollow pit in his chest. His fists curled into the thin blanket beneath him, his knuckles white as he fought the wave of shame and anger threatening to overwhelm him.

The sting of failure lingered, sharp and unrelenting, each moment of the day replaying in his mind with cruel clarity. The thief's darting movements, the way they had slipped effortlessly through the crowded marketplace, and his own clumsy, desperate pursuit—it all felt like a series of missteps leading to this very moment of bitter defeat. His jaw clenched as Liora's laughter echoed in his ears, a sound that gnawed at his patience and pride alike, turning his simmering frustration into a slow boil.

"Damn it," Kael muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the room, the weight of Liora's amusement, and the city's noise beyond the walls. Yet, it only seemed to grow louder, mocking him with its indifference. Even the faint creak of the inn's floorboards as someone moved in a neighboring room seemed amplified, each sound pressing against the quiet of his thoughts like a taunt.

He shifted restlessly, turning onto his side, his gaze settling on the single, flickering candle burning low on the nightstand. Its feeble light swayed with the faint draft, mirroring the unsteady rhythm of his thoughts. Failure was not new to him, but here, in a foreign city where every face was unfamiliar and every interaction felt like a test, it cut deeper than he had expected. This wasn't just about losing coin—it was about losing the fragile sense of control he had barely managed to grasp since leaving Lindholm.

Kael inhaled deeply, forcing the air into his lungs as if it might push the weight from his chest. The mattress beneath him felt thin, the uneven straw poking through the fabric reminding him of how far he was from comfort or safety. Liora's laughter had long since faded, replaced by a heavy silence, but its shadow lingered. The rogue's words, though mocking, carried a truth Kael couldn't ignore: he was out of his depth. Yet, as much as he wanted to wallow in self-pity, a spark of defiance burned within him, faint but persistent. He couldn't afford to be this weak—not here, not now.@@novelbin@@

The ceiling above seemed to blur as Kael's eyes drifted closed, his mind reluctantly pulling him toward a restless sleep. The ache in his body and the sting in his pride might not fade overnight, but tomorrow would come, and with it, another chance to prove himself—if he could summon the strength to take it.

Later that night, long after Kael had fallen into a restless sleep, Liora slipped out of the room. He climbed onto the inn's roof with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before. The city stretched out before him, its flickering lights casting a golden glow against the night sky.

Liora sat cross-legged on the rooftop, his usual grin fading into a contemplative expression. The cool night air brushed against his skin, carrying with it the distant hum of Theron's Rest. He took a deep breath, his sharp eyes scanning the city below.

"Now," he murmured, his tone quiet but charged with excitement. "It's been a while since I got into action on my own."