The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Amberine\'s smile faltered slightly, but she quickly forced it back into place, not wanting Maris to see the conflict swirling inside her. "It was… informative," she said, her tone deliberately vague. She didn\'t want to talk about Draven, not now, not when she still felt the sting of his earlier criticism, even if part of her recognized that he was right.

Maris grinned. "Informative? Amberine, you\'re practically glowing. I think you might actually be enjoying these lessons."

Amberine gave a short laugh, but her mind was elsewhere. She glanced across the room, watching as Elara quietly gathered her things. The other girl had always been unflappable, her emotions kept tightly under control, but Amberine had seen the tiniest flicker of frustration in her eyes when Draven had effortlessly deflected her most powerful spell.

Elara had pushed herself harder than anyone in the class, and yet even she had been left with nothing to show for it.

Draven, of course, had noticed everything. He never missed a detail, and as the students slowly filed out of the classroom, he remained at the front, silently observing them. His gaze was sharp, assessing, and it didn\'t take long for Amberine to feel the weight of his attention on her once more.

"You performed better than most," Draven said as Amberine approached the door, his voice low but carrying easily across the room. It wasn\'t praise, exactly—his tone was as cold and distant as ever—but it was more acknowledgment than he usually gave.

Amberine paused, feeling the heat rise in her chest again. She turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a steady determination. "Better isn\'t good enough," she replied, her voice even, though her heart pounded in her chest. "I won\'t stop until I\'m strong enough to break through that barrier."

Draven\'s eyes flickered, a faint glint of something unreadable passing through them. "We\'ll see," he said, his tone betraying nothing.

Amberine clenched her fists, resisting the urge to snap back with something more heated. Instead, she gave a curt nod and turned on her heel, making her way out of the classroom and into the bustling corridor of the Magic Tower University. She needed space, air—anything to clear her head from the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

As she walked through the halls, her thoughts kept returning to Draven\'s barrier. The way it had effortlessly absorbed every attack, how it had felt like an impenetrable wall of magic. No matter how much power they had thrown at it, he had barely even acknowledged their efforts. It wasn\'t just the strength of the barrier—it was the control, the precision. Amberine had never seen anything like it.

She could feel Ifrit stirring beneath her robe, his warmth a constant, reassuring presence. "You\'ll get there," his voice whispered in her mind, soft and encouraging. "You\'re not far off. You just need to refine it."

"I know," Amberine muttered under her breath, her frustration simmering. "But how? How do I get to that level?"

"You\'ll figure it out," Ifrit said, his tone as calm as ever. "Knowing your ownself would help, let\'s take our time,"

Amberine sighed, her pace slowing as she approached the courtyard. The warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves of the tall trees that lined the university grounds, casting dappled shadows across the stone pathways. Students were scattered throughout the courtyard, some sitting in small groups, others practicing their magic in quiet corners.

It was a peaceful scene, but Amberine felt anything but calm.

She made her way to a secluded bench near the edge of the courtyard and sat down heavily, letting out a long breath. She needed to focus, to clear her mind, but the knot of anger and frustration that had settled in her chest refused to loosen.

"Elara didn\'t crack his barrier either," she muttered to herself, her fingers drumming restlessly on the cover of her notebook. "So why do I feel like I\'ve failed?"

"You\'re pushing yourself too hard," Ifrit\'s voice chimed in again, his presence warm and steady. "It\'s not a competition. You don\'t need to prove anything to him."

Amberine closed her eyes, leaning back against the bench. "It feels like I do. He—he always looks at me like I\'m nothing. Like none of us are worth his time."

"Because he\'s Draven," Ifrit replied, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "He looks at everyone like that. You know that better than anyone." Experience new tales on empire

Amberine opened her eyes, staring up at the sky through the branches of the trees. "Yeah, but it still doesn\'t make it any easier."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the university fading into the background as Amberine\'s mind wandered. She thought about her father, about the man he had been, the lessons he had taught her about magic, about life. He had always been so calm, so patient, and so different from Draven\'s cold, unyielding demeanor.

Her chest tightened as the familiar ache of loss washed over her. She had been so close to her father, had looked up to him for everything, and then—just like that—he had been taken from her. And Draven had been the one to admit it, so casually, so cruelly, as if her father\'s death had meant nothing.

"I hate him," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

"I know," Ifrit said softly. "But hating him won\'t bring your father back."

Amberine swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to breathe. She hated that Ifrit was right, hated that she still felt so powerless despite everything she had accomplished. But more than anything, she hated that Draven seemed so untouchable, so far beyond her reach.

"I\'ll make him see me," she thought to herself, her resolve hardening. "I\'ll make him recognize that I\'m not just another student to be dismissed."

Before she could dwell too long on her thoughts, a shadow fell over her. Amberine looked up to see Elara standing in front of her, her calm, golden eyes studying her with that same detached curiosity.

"You\'re thinking too much again," Elara said simply, her voice soft but direct. "It\'s clouding your judgment."

Amberine blinked, surprised by the sudden intrusion. "What do you mean?"

Elara sat down beside her, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "You\'re letting your emotions get in the way. Draven isn\'t going to acknowledge you just because you\'re angry at him."

Amberine frowned, feeling a flicker of irritation. "I\'m not just angry. I—"

"You\'re angry because he\'s better than you," Elara interrupted, her tone matter-of-fact. "And you hate that."

Amberine opened her mouth to argue, but no words came. Elara\'s bluntness was as disarming as it was accurate, and Amberine found herself at a loss for how to respond.

Elara continued, her voice steady. "It\'s not a competition, Amberine. You\'re strong—stronger than most of the students here. But you\'ll never reach his level if you keep letting your emotions dictate your actions."

Amberine\'s fingers tightened around her notebook, her frustration flaring again. "It\'s not just that. It\'s… personal."

"I know," Elara said, her voice softer now. "But that\'s exactly why you need to be careful. If you want to surpass him, you need to be smart about it. Don\'t let your anger blind you."

Amberine stared at her for a long moment, the weight of Elara\'s words sinking in. She hated to admit it, but Elara was right. She had been letting her emotions cloud her judgment, had been too focused on proving herself to Draven instead of focusing on her own growth.

With a heavy sigh, Amberine leaned back against the bench, her gaze drifting up to the sky once more. "You\'re right," she said quietly. "I need to stop letting him get under my skin."

Elara nodded, her expression serene. "Exactly."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the tension between them easing as the sounds of the university carried on around them. Amberine felt a strange sense of calm wash over her, the storm of emotions that had been swirling inside her finally beginning to settle.

"I\'ll get there," Amberine thought to herself, her resolve hardening once more. "I\'ll surpass him—on my terms."

As the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Amberine stood up, her magic notebook tucked securely under her arm. She glanced down at Elara, who remained seated, her gaze distant as if in thought. Amberine felt a renewed sense of determination, her resolve hardening with every passing moment.

She couldn\'t let Draven dictate the course of her growth, nor could she allow her anger to consume her. If she wanted to surpass him, she had to be smarter, more focused, and stronger—not just in terms of magic, but in her ability to control herself.

"Thanks, Elara," Amberine said quietly, her voice more measured now.

Elara looked up, her golden eyes meeting Amberine\'s with a calm, unreadable expression. "You\'re welcome," she replied simply, her tone devoid of emotion. "But remember, this is your journey. No one else\'s."

Amberine nodded, appreciating the advice despite Elara\'s typically cold demeanor. She turned to leave the courtyard, feeling lighter, more centered. Her notebook, filled with Draven\'s teachings, felt like a weapon she could now wield more effectively.

The concepts of control, precision, and adaptability swirled in her mind, and she knew she had to master them if she was going to grow beyond her current limits.

As Amberine made her way back toward the dormitory, she replayed the events of the day in her mind. The brutal reality of Draven\'s barrier had shattered her confidence at first, but now it fueled her determination. His lectures weren\'t just lessons in magic—they were challenges, personal battles that she had to overcome.

Each one was a step toward not just matching Draven\'s power but understanding the deeper intricacies of magic.

On the other hand, Elara looks at Amberine\'s back, secretly hiding her bitterness as well.

She\'s not different from her, the bitterness she felt from getting disgraced in the class is unpleasant.

Her, who is called the prodigy magician, is having difficulties in that man\'s class.

It\'s something that is very unpleasant.