The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The road to Halewick stretched ahead, slick with the mist that clung to the damp earth. The wind carried the scent of an oncoming storm, heavy and thick, the kind that lingered in your lungs and made the air feel charged, expectant. Kael adjusted the strap of his pack, his fingers brushing against the worn leather of his dagger sheath. The weight of the weapon was comforting, but the unease in his gut remained.

Liora walked beside him, silent but unusually tense. His sharp eyes never stopped moving, flicking from shadowed tree lines to the distant figures on the road ahead. He wasn't just alert—he was expecting something. That was never a good sign.

"You're scanning too much," Kael muttered, keeping his voice low. "Expecting trouble?"

Liora's smirk was absent, replaced by something colder. "Coincidences don't survive in this business."

The words settled between them, heavier than the damp air pressing against their skin. Kael exhaled through his nose, adjusting the strap of his pack as he stepped over a shallow puddle in the road. He had asked if the pattern of magical disturbances could really be random, hoping for some reassurance. Instead, he got confirmation that they were walking straight into something deliberate.

The road stretched long before them, winding through a corridor of skeletal trees. A storm brewed in the distance, thick clouds rolling over the sky like ink spilling across a canvas. The air carried the scent of rain, mingling with the damp earth beneath their boots. Wind whispered through the branches, but it wasn't enough to break the uneasy silence that clung to the landscape. Even the usual sounds of wildlife had faded, as if nature itself was holding its breath.

Liora moved with his usual grace, but Kael could see the difference. His movements were sharper, his gaze flicking too often to the trees, the ridges, the shifting mist curling along the roadside. It wasn't paranoia—it was the caution of someone who had seen too many bad things happen to believe in luck.

The silence stretched until Kael couldn't take it anymore. "You think this was always the plan?" he asked, keeping his voice measured. "Seyrik, the mines, Briarhollow, and now Halewick—someone leading us along?"

Liora let out a quiet breath that wasn't quite a sigh. "Plans are a funny thing," he said, his tone unreadable. "You make them, you break them. But the ones who know how to adapt? They're the ones who win."

Kael frowned. "So you think we're walking into a trap."

Liora tilted his head slightly. "A trap implies someone's waiting for us to fall in. What we're dealing with?" He glanced at Kael, something dark in his gaze. "Feels more like a hunting ground."

A chill ran down Kael's spine, but he didn't let it show.

They pressed on, the crunch of gravel and wet leaves beneath their boots the only sound. The sky darkened further, the storm creeping closer, the first distant rumble of thunder rolling across the hills.

Then, up ahead, movement.

A group of travelers moving in the opposite direction. A ragged band—families, traders, a few armed men who didn't carry themselves like soldiers but kept their hands close to their weapons. Their faces were drawn, shoulders hunched, exhaustion weighing down their steps. Not just the kind that came from travel.

It was the kind that came from fear.

As they drew near, Kael caught the way one of the men gripped his daughter's hand a little tighter, his knuckles white. The girl, no older than ten, clutched a frayed blanket, her wide eyes darting toward the trees as if she expected something to emerge from the darkness.

The middle-aged man at the front raised a hand in warning. "Turn back," he said, voice rough from too many sleepless nights. "Something unnatural stirs near Halewick."

Kael stopped. "What happened?"

The man shook his head, glancing over his shoulder as if afraid of what might be following them. "We were in the city for trade. The people there—they act like nothing's wrong, but it is. You can feel it in the streets. The way the guards patrol like they're expecting something to strike. The way people don't go out after dark. And then…" He hesitated, looking at his daughter. "Then the disappearances started."

Kael's stomach tightened. "Disappearances?"

"A merchant. A pair of servants. A noble's son." The man swallowed, rubbing a rough hand over his face. "All gone without a trace. No bodies, no blood. Just gone."

Liora's gaze was unreadable, but Kael could see the calculation behind his eyes. The travelers weren't lying—whatever was happening in Halewick wasn't just whispers in the wind.

The man exhaled, shoulders slumping. "We left before it could get worse. Maybe we were cowards for it, but I won't risk my family."

Kael couldn't blame him.

The man glanced at Liora, as if sensing the sharper danger in him. "You're adventurers?"

Kael nodded.

The man's jaw tightened. "Then take my advice and turn back."

Kael exchanged a glance with Liora, who only gave a lazy shrug that didn't reach his eyes. They weren't turning back.

The travelers moved past, their footsteps blending into the rising wind, their whispers swallowed by the distant rumble of thunder.

Kael exhaled, adjusting his grip on the strap of his pack. "Well. That's comforting."

Liora's smirk was empty. "People run when they don't want to see what's coming."

They continued forward, the road stretching endlessly ahead, winding toward Halewick like a path leading to something inevitable.

Then, Kael felt it.

A presence.

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He stiffened slightly, eyes flicking to the right—to the gnarled branches of an old oak, its twisted limbs stretching toward the sky like skeletal fingers. A lone raven perched there, its feathers slick and dark as ink. At first glance, it looked like any other bird, just another shadow in the gathering dusk.

But then it moved.

It tilted its head, watching, waiting. And its eyes—

They flickered.

Not with reflected light.

Not with the pale glow of the storm-heavy sky.

But with something unnatural. Something Kael had seen before.

Briarhollow.

The sigils. The creatures.

His breath hitched.@@novelbin@@

The raven blinked.

And then it was gone.

No sound of wings. No rustling of feathers. No movement.

Just empty space where it had been.

Kael's fingers twitched at his side, curling slightly. His throat was dry, his pulse unsteady.

For a moment, he thought about telling Liora. About pointing to the branch, to the empty air, to the weight of something unseen pressing against the edge of his senses.

But then he stopped.

He didn't tell Liora.

____

Halewick was not the thriving city it was once rumored to be. The moment they passed through its gates, Kael felt it—a tension that clung to the air like the scent of rain before a storm. The streets were alive, but not in the way a city should be. The movement was too controlled, too forced, as though every person walking the cobbled roads was performing a rehearsed act. The merchants peddled their wares, voices raised in routine calls, but their words lacked the luster of real persuasion. Their hands moved with the habit of trade, but their eyes flicked over their shoulders, watching, waiting.

A city that feared its own shadows.

Guards patrolled in pairs, their uniforms crisp, but their movements stiff with caution. Their hands rested on the hilts of their weapons, their eyes scanning every alleyway, every shifting figure. It wasn't the presence of law that made the people wary—it was the knowledge that law alone wouldn't protect them.

"This place reeks of bad memories," Liora muttered.

Kael nodded, his gaze drifting toward the outskirts of the market. There, a woman tugged her child away from the mouth of an alley, her grip tight enough to make the boy wince. She didn't glance back, didn't pause, just quickened her pace as if even looking at the darkened space would invite something out of it.

It wasn't just fear.

It was anticipation.

Kael could see it in the way people moved, in the way they kept to the center of the streets, away from the shadows that clung to the buildings like something alive. It was the way voices dipped when nightfall was mentioned, the way shopkeepers counted their coin twice, as if ensuring they had everything in order before the sun dipped too low.

Something had left a scar here. And the wound had never fully healed.

They pressed on toward Lord Alvane's estate, following the winding main road lined with tall buildings that bore the weight of time and neglect. Some structures stood proud, their facades well-kept, but others slouched inward, their rooftops sagging like weary shoulders. More than once, Kael caught a glimpse of boarded-up windows, of homes that had been abandoned but not yet forgotten.

The estate loomed at the edge of the noble district, its high walls pristine, yet offering no real sense of security. The guards at the entrance stood rigid, their armor polished but worn, their expressions unreadable.

Not ordinary men. These were soldiers, trained and tested. And yet their eyes carried the same haunted look as the rest of the city.

One of them stepped forward, blocking their path. "State your business."

"The Guild sent us," Kael said, producing the sealed letter of introduction.

The guard hesitated before nodding toward another, who disappeared through the gate. They were kept waiting in silence, the air heavy between them. Kael studied the men—battle-ready, professional, but stretched thin. They weren't just guarding a noble's house. They were bracing for something.

Moments later, the gate swung open.

"The lord will see you."