The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"Will they come back?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kael opened his mouth, then closed it. The truth was, he didn't know. He didn't want to lie. He glanced at Liora, but for once, the rogue wasn't smirking, wasn't teasing him with an easy answer. He simply watched.

Kael's throat felt tight. He thought of the way Seyrik had vanished into thin air, of the way the creatures had unraveled like shadows given form. He thought of the symbols burned into the forest floor, of the unnatural hum that still clung to his skin, like a presence that refused to fade.

He didn't know.

Liora crouched, meeting the child's gaze with an expression that, for once, wasn't distant amusement or sharp-edged sarcasm. His voice was quiet but firm.

"If they do," Liora said, "you'll be ready next time. And if you aren't, you run. Got it?"

The child hesitated, her small hands tightening at her sides. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Liora nodded back, standing. The moment passed, but Kael saw it—the way Liora's fingers twitched slightly as he turned away. The way he exhaled a fraction too slowly, as if trying to rid himself of something unwanted.

The elder stepped forward, breaking the silence.

"You have done more for us than we could have asked," he said, voice thick with something Kael couldn't quite name. Gratitude, perhaps, though it was weighed down by something heavier. "We cannot repay you for what you've done."

Kael shook his head. "You don't have to."

The elder studied him for a long moment, then pressed something into Kael's palm. A small, wooden carving—etched with protective sigils, its edges worn smooth by time and touch. It was light in his hand, yet it felt solid, grounding.

"A gift," the elder said. "For luck."

Kael stared at the token, turning it between his fingers. The wood was warm, almost as if it carried the touch of the hands that had carved it, the hope of those who had given it.

The wind stirred, carrying the faint scent of burning wood. Somewhere in the distance, the villagers had already begun lighting the remains of the corrupted creatures aflame, ensuring that nothing unnatural remained. Smoke curled into the sky, dark and heavy, a final exorcism of what had plagued their home.

Behind him, Liora was silent.

Kael could feel his presence—steady, unshaken. And yet, something in the way he stood, in the way his gaze flicked toward the forest edge, told Kael that his mind was still elsewhere. Not here. Not now.

He was thinking of what came next.

Kael exhaled through his nose, his fingers tightening around the wooden token.

He didn't believe in luck.

But he took it anyway.

_____

The road back to Theron's Rest stretched long beneath the weight of unspoken words. The dirt path twisted through the darkened forest, lined with towering trees that swayed gently in the evening breeze. The sky above had faded from deep blue to an inky black, the stars peeking through the scattered clouds like distant, watching eyes. Crickets chirped in sporadic intervals, filling the silence with their rhythmic hum, but even that natural noise felt too thin, too fragile.

Kael's boots crunched against the dirt with each step, his breath steady despite the ache in his limbs. The weight of the battle still clung to him, the memory of Seyrik's wild grin, the twisted creatures, and the dark pulse of magic lingering in his bones like a phantom pain. His mind spun with too many thoughts, too many questions that clawed at him, refusing to let him settle.

Liora walked beside him, moving with his usual unhurried grace, but there was something different this time. His steps were too measured, his shoulders more rigid than usual. He hadn't spoken since they left the village. That alone set Kael on edge.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, until Kael couldn't take it anymore.

"How did you know Seyrik?" His voice cut through the quiet, firmer than he expected. He wasn't in the mood for vague half-answers.

Liora let out a slow sigh, tilting his head up to the sky as if debating whether or not to answer. "You ask too many questions."

Kael shot him a dry look. "You dodge too many answers."

A chuckle. Short. Amused, but hollow. "Fair," Liora admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. His gaze flickered toward the treeline, sharp and distant. "Seyrik was a researcher. One of those types who get too curious for their own good."

Kael frowned. "And you?"

Liora smirked, but it was tired. "I was the fool sent to clean up after people like him."

Something in Liora's voice struck Kael as off. Too casual, too dismissive. He had spent enough time around him to know when he was deflecting. This wasn't just another job for Liora, wasn't just another rogue mage stirring up trouble.

"You knew this wouldn't be a simple hunt," Kael said carefully, watching for any reaction.

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Liora didn't answer right away. His fingers idly drummed against the hilt of his dagger, his pace not slowing but his eyes shifting, scanning the darkened road ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"Nothing ever is."

Kael studied him. There was something in the way Liora carried himself, the way his sharp confidence slipped into something heavier, something unspoken. He had seen it before, back in the mines, when they first encountered the runes. He saw it again in the way Liora moved during the fight—precise, but not surprised. Like he had expected something worse. Like he had already fought worse.

Kael wanted to press further, to dig beneath the easy smirk and sharp words, but something in Liora's posture warned against it. Instead, he let the silence settle once more.

The trees stretched tall on either side of them, their branches forming skeletal fingers against the star-lit sky. The path twisted, the air growing colder as the night deepened. Kael rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the weight pressing on him, but it refused to leave.

And then, he saw it.

A raven.

It perched on a low branch just ahead, its sleek feathers blending into the darkness. Its head tilted slightly, observing them with an eerie stillness. At first glance, it seemed like any other bird—a creature of the wild, lingering on the edge of their path.@@novelbin@@

But its eyes—

They glowed.

A sickly, faintly luminescent gleam, unnatural against the shadows. Not a reflection, not a trick of the light. It was the same glow he had seen in Seyrik's creatures, the same unholy flicker of something touched by corruption.

Kael's breath hitched, his fingers twitching toward his blade. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.

He blinked.

The branch was empty.

No flutter of wings. No rustling leaves. Just emptiness where the raven had been.

His skin prickled.

He stole a glance at Liora, half-expecting him to have noticed, but the rogue's gaze was still fixed on the path ahead, his sharp features unreadable.

Kael hesitated.

And then, he didn't tell Liora.

____

Theron's Rest was bustling with activity when they arrived, the Adventurer's Guild alive with the usual mix of mercenaries, traders, and warriors nursing drinks that smelled strong enough to burn through steel. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, ale, and damp wood, the din of voices rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. The heavy wooden doors groaned as Kael pushed them open, stepping into the warmth of the hall.

The moment they entered, a few heads turned in their direction. Some out of curiosity, others in recognition. Word traveled fast in places like these, and the fact that they'd gone after Briarhollow's problem and returned in one piece was enough to warrant a few glances. A group of adventurers near the bar muttered amongst themselves, their expressions a mix of skepticism and interest.

Liora didn't spare them a glance. He moved through the room with the ease of someone who belonged, slipping past chairs and tables like a shadow, his posture loose but alert. Kael followed, the exhaustion in his limbs making each step heavier than he liked.

At the back of the guild hall, seated behind a desk stacked with parchment and half-empty bottles of something potent, was Reiner Valos. He was a veteran, a man built like a fortress, with a grizzled beard and sharp eyes that missed nothing. He barely looked up as they approached, flipping a knife between his fingers with an ease that spoke of years in the field.

"You're late," he said, his voice rough as gravel.

Kael dropped the folded report onto the desk with a dull thud. "We're alive. That's more than some can say."

Reiner grunted, taking the report with calloused fingers. He flipped through the pages, his expression impassive as he skimmed over their account. His eyes flicked back and forth over the words, slow and deliberate.

"Shadow creatures, huh?"

Liora leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Not just any. Summoned. Controlled."

Reiner exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. There was no surprise in his reaction, no widening of the eyes or furrow of the brows—just a quiet acceptance, as if he'd expected this.

Kael caught the shift in his demeanor. "Wait—you're not surprised?"

Reiner finally looked up, his sharp gaze meeting Kael's. Then he reached for the large, weathered map pinned to the wall behind him. His fingers traced over a few red-marked locations, small but numerous, scattered across different parts of the region.

"You're not the first to report this kind of thing," Reiner said, voice low but weighted.

Kael stepped closer, his stomach twisting. The markings weren't random; they formed a pattern—like a web spreading outward, each new report another thread in something much larger.

"So this is bigger than Seyrik," Kael murmured.

Reiner nodded, his expression grim. "Something is spreading." He turned back to them, his gaze steady. "And you two?" He reached for a sealed order from the stack on his desk and tossed it onto the table. "You're going deeper."

Kael caught the parchment, breaking the wax seal with his thumb. His eyes skimmed the words inside. A new location. A noble's estate. Similar attacks.

"Halewick," he read aloud, his voice tight.

Liora reached over and plucked the paper from Kael's hands, flipping it between his fingers like it was just another dice roll in a game he wasn't eager to play. His eyes flicked over the words before his lips curled into a smirk, though it lacked any real humor.

"Sounds like a trap," Liora mused.

Reiner smirked, leaning back in his chair, arms resting against the worn wood of the desk.

"Probably," he said.

Then he shrugged. "But you're going anyway."