The Villain Professor's Second Chance

I stepped forward, my eyes narrowing as I approached the magic circle at the heart of the dungeonification. The entire room seemed to pulse with a dark, residual energy—faint, but unmistakable. Even without my [Comprehension] skill, I understood it immediately.

Every stroke, every line of the circle resonated with me, as if the complex nature of the dungeon's mana was something I had already deciphered during the battle with Armandra. The battle had taught me more than I realized.

This was the epicenter—the heart of the transformation that had twisted the Magic Tower University into this grotesque version of itself. And now, it was time to reverse that.

I focused my thoughts, my psychokinesis pen floating beside me, responding to my will without hesitation. The strokes moved in perfect harmony with my thoughts, correcting the intricate lines of the circle, changing the patterns as I silently worked. I didn't need words; the movements were enough. Every stroke was deliberate, precise.

I created a series of mana collection circles, layering them carefully to capture the residue of mana left from our grand battle. It was still potent, swirling in the air like the aftermath of a storm.

With each alteration, the circle grew more elegant, more attuned to my intentions. I crafted a secondary circle beneath me, one that would absorb and redirect the mana I gathered. It was perfect, a dance of mana that flowed around me with purpose.

And then, I began the chant.

"By the strings of fate unbound,

By the echoes of time resound,

Magic's law, no chain, no key,

Restore the world, as it should be.

With light I weave, with power I mold,

Continue your adventure with empire

Return what's lost, both young and old.

Where mana gathers, let it flow,

Where darkness lingers, let it go."

My voice was low, controlled, but it held the force of command. As I spoke, the mana circle beneath me pulsed, and the entire room seemed to breathe with me. The world around me started to change.

The Magic Tower University, once warped and broken by the dungeonification, began to stir. The walls, jagged and cracked, smoothed themselves out, repairing the damage caused by the forces of dark mana. The floors that had buckled and twisted under the strain of demonic corruption shifted back into place, stone by stone, until they resembled their original form.

It was a subtle thing, the way magic could undo the damage time had wrought. Dangerous, yes—but also beautiful. The rules of the world were not broken, merely bent. That was the true nature of magic. Its beauty lay in its danger. It could restore what was lost, heal what was broken, and bring order to chaos—but only if the rules were followed.

If misused, it could tear everything apart.

The air itself shifted, growing cleaner, lighter. I could feel the essence of the tower itself, its heartbeat, as it returned to what it was supposed to be. The lives that had been stolen by the dungeonification—mages, students, creatures trapped in the chaos—all began to settle back into the world, their essence no longer feeding the twisted magic that had consumed them.

I stood in the center of it all, feeling the power surge around me. This was why magic was so dangerous. Those who had gone, those whose essence had been consumed, could be brought back, but only if you knew how to manipulate the rules. Only if you understood the delicate balance. And right now, I was the one holding the strings.

The circle beneath me glowed brighter, a soft hum filling the room as the restoration came to its final stages. The dungeon's mana swirled around me, gathering into the patterns I had designed, collecting in pools of energy. The air was thick with it, and I could feel the weight of the mana pressing down on my body.

I let out a slow breath, feeling the exhaustion in my muscles begin to fade. The pain that had settled into my bones after the battle with Armandra and Malakaroth slowly eased, replaced by a gentle warmth. My body, drained of mana and battered by the fight, was slowly being restored by the circle I had created.

I could feel my strength returning, the soothing magic of the water pen filling me with each breath.

The runes I had etched into the circle matched the ones carved into the magic pen. It was a delicate synchronization, one that required absolute control. But as the mana flowed into me, replenishing what had been lost, I felt that control settle over me like a second skin. The dungeon's mana was now mine to command, and my body responded in kind, soaking up the energy like a dry sponge.

The aches in my muscles faded. The sharp, lingering pain from the cuts and bruises I had sustained dulled, then disappeared altogether. My mana reserves, drained from the battle, filled steadily, as if a reservoir inside me was being replenished.

But even as I felt the comfort of my body healing, my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't help but replay the events of the battle in my head. I had been weak. Armandra, with her twisted magic and hatred, had pushed me to my limits. Elandris, too, was a force of nature I could barely contend with if it had come to a direct confrontation.

If I had faced either of them alone, without the aid of others or without my magic pens, I would have been dead. Easily.

I scowled at the thought, my grip tightening around the pen. The memory of Malakaroth, of how effortlessly Gilgamesh had dealt with the demon king, lingered in my mind like a dark cloud. I wasn't strong enough. Not yet. If I were to face someone on Malakaroth's level alone, I wouldn't survive. I needed more power.

And I already knew how to get it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar chime. I looked up, half-expecting it. The shimmering screen appeared before me, the letters glowing faintly in the dim light of the chamber.

[Quest Completed: The Fallen Elf and The Demon King's Arrogance.

Reward: +100% Mana, +2 Store Currencies]

I smiled. Finally.

The quest had been long, difficult, and riddled with setbacks, but it was done. The rewards were exactly what I needed. More mana, more strength—and more importantly, more currency to spend. I had been waiting for this moment.

With a thought, I brought up the skills menu, the familiar interface appearing before me. My eyes scanned the list of skills I had unlocked, but there was only one I was truly interested in now. One I had been waiting for.

[Skill: True Clones (6 Store Currencies)]

As the screen shimmered before me, my heart raced with anticipation. The words "[Skill: True Clones]" glowed faintly, and without hesitation, I pressed the option. Instantly, a surge of mana coursed through me, more powerful than anything I had ever felt. Perhaps it's activating together with the reward of the quest.

My mana reserves, already replenished, seemed to grow threefold, swelling like a reservoir overflowing with energy.

The room around me crackled with the sheer weight of my magic as I focused my intent, summoning the skill I had coveted for so long. The air shimmered in front of me, and slowly, three figures materialized from the glowing mana circle. They were perfect. Flawless reflections of myself, yet each with subtle differences that reflected the paths I had walked.

The first clone stood tall in my adventurer attire—the assassin attire that I use to take the persona of Dravis Granger the assassin. He looked every bit the rogue adventurer I had once been, the memories of my early days as a wanderer etched into his stance.

His eyes gleamed with the same sharpness I has when I lived by the sword, navigating dangerous roads and bloodied battlefields facing the goblin king.

The second clone wore my current professor attire—sleek, tailored robes that bore the crest of the Magic Tower University. He held himself with a reserved authority, the weight of my knowledge and intellect embodied in his posture. This version of myself was calculating, precise, and ready to command the magical forces that now swirled around us.

But it was the third and fourth clone that caught my attention the most. Cloaked in shadow, his figure was draped in the same dark robes I had worn during my more secretive missions, a black hood obscuring most of his face.

This was the reflection of my hidden self—the identity I had buried deep, the one that operated in the shadows, dealing with enemies before they even knew they were marked for death. Perhaps, this is the spitting image of me, in my former self, Dravis Granger. The outlaw mechanical engineering professor.

I felt a surge of pride. After all the patience, the battles fought, and the restraint to hold back spending my store currencies, I had finally obtained the power I needed. These clones were more than just copies—they were extensions of my very soul. Each one represented a part of my journey, my growth, and my resolve to become the most powerful summoner and strategist this world had ever seen.

With them, I could be everywhere at once. A master of all roles.

I grinned, satisfaction coursing through me as I surveyed my new companions. This was only the beginning.