The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"You have all demonstrated varying degrees of emotional control in your spellcasting," Draven began, his voice as cold and unyielding as ever. The words cut through the air, each syllable delivered with icy precision. The lecture hall, already silent, grew even quieter as his gaze lingered on each of the top students—Amberine, Elara, and Maris—before sweeping across the room.

"But let me be clear—true mastery of magic requires complete control over both your emotions and your magic."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Amberine shifted uncomfortably in her seat, Elara's expression remained unreadable, while Maris leaned forward, her eyes locked on Draven. The exhaustion from their sleepless nights spent wrestling with the midterm exam seemed momentarily forgotten as they hung on his every word.

"To become a high-ranking magician," Draven continued, "you must command not just mana but your own heart and mind." His words, though delivered with calm indifference, carried a gravity that made the students sit up straighter in their seats.

Draven raised one hand, and the air around him seemed to hum with raw magical energy. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of mana surrounded him, the sheer force of his power restrained yet palpable in the room. The students watched, transfixed, as the magic gathered around him with minimal effort on his part, a testament to his mastery. "You see, emotions are not weaknesses. They are tools.

But like any tool, if mishandled, they can destroy you."

Amberine's eyes widened slightly. She had always struggled with the volatility of her own emotions, her temper often flaring out of control during spellcasting. Hearing Draven speak of emotions as tools, something to be wielded rather than suppressed, struck a chord in her, though she would never admit it out loud.

"Today," Draven said, his voice dropping just enough to pull the students further into his words, "I will show you how emotions, when controlled, can fuel your magic to its fullest potential."

Draven then extended his right hand, and with a mere flick of his fingers, mana began to gather in the air before him. The psychokinesis pen he often used floated effortlessly, sketching the outline of a complex magic circle in the space between him and the students. The lines of the circle shimmered with power, glowing faintly as Draven poured mana into it.

The number ten appeared at the center of the circle, indicating the final question from the mid-term exam—the question that had pushed each student to the limits of their magical ability.

"This," Draven said, his voice calm but authoritative, "is the projection of emotions when wielded as weapons."

As he spoke, the magic circle came to life, pulsing with energy. He began to infuse the circle with emotion—anger, sadness, fear, frustration—one by one, and with each emotion, the room around them shifted.

First, the air grew thick and stifling as Draven channeled anger into the magic. The students were no longer in the lecture hall. Instead, they found themselves in a desolate wasteland, the sky above them a deep, foreboding red. The ground cracked beneath their feet, and in the distance, the ominous rumble of thunder echoed.

Heat radiated from the earth, oppressive and suffocating, as if the world itself were about to erupt. The students could feel the weight of the anger Draven had projected—raw, untamed, and dangerous. Yet, even in the midst of such overwhelming emotion, there was control.

The anger did not consume; it fueled, and Draven remained at the center of it all, unshaken, untouched by the flames that seemed to lick at the edges of the wasteland.

Amberine's heart pounded in her chest, the intensity of the scene mirroring the inner turmoil she often felt during her own spellcasting. But there was a beauty to it as well—a power that, when controlled, could be harnessed into something extraordinary.

Without warning, the wasteland vanished, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming sadness. The room became an endless ocean, the water dark and deep, stretching as far as the eye could see. The students floated in the water, their bodies buoyed by an unseen force. Above them, the sky was overcast, the clouds heavy with rain that never fell.

The sadness was palpable, a weight that pressed down on their hearts, dragging them deeper into the cold embrace of the ocean. And yet, the sadness was not paralyzing. It was sharp, clear, like the water that surrounded them. It offered clarity—a stillness that allowed for deep reflection.

Elara's expression softened as she felt the coolness of the water around her. Sadness, she realized, was not something to be feared. It could be embraced, understood, and controlled. In this quiet moment, she saw the power that lay in acknowledging emotions rather than suppressing them.

The ocean faded, and in its place came fear. The students found themselves standing on the edge of a vast, bottomless chasm. The air was thick with tension, every breath a struggle against the overwhelming sense of dread that permeated the space. The ground beneath their feet crumbled with every step, threatening to give way and send them plummeting into the darkness below.

The fear was suffocating, paralyzing, and yet… Draven stood tall, unaffected by the terror that gripped the students. The fear, while intense, was under his control, molded to his will.

Maris swallowed hard, her heart racing as she peered into the abyss. But instead of backing away, she forced herself to stand her ground. Draven had shown them that fear, too, was a tool. It could sharpen instincts, push them to act when they otherwise might hesitate.

The chasm disappeared, replaced by the chaotic swirl of frustration. The air crackled with energy, sparks of mana flying in every direction as the students found themselves in a labyrinth of jagged, twisting paths. The walls of the maze shifted constantly, blocking their way, trapping them in dead ends. The frustration was palpable, a heavy weight that made every movement feel like a struggle.

Yet, at the center of it all, Draven remained calm, the chaos around him bending to his will.

Amberine gritted her teeth, feeling the familiar surge of frustration rise within her. She had been here before, metaphorically speaking—trapped in her own emotions, fighting against herself. But watching Draven manipulate the maze with ease, she began to understand. Frustration didn't have to be destructive. It could be channeled into something powerful, something unstoppable.
Experience more on empire

Finally, the maze dissolved, and the students were plunged into despair. The sky above them was dark, the ground beneath their feet cracked and barren. The air was heavy, oppressive, as if the very world was collapsing in on itself. Despair wrapped itself around them like a thick fog, suffocating and unrelenting. Yet, even in the midst of such darkness, there was strength.

Draven stood amidst the ruin, his presence a beacon of unwavering will. Despair, when controlled, could become determination—a force that drove one to survive, to push forward despite everything.

Elara's breath caught in her throat as she watched Draven command the despair around him. She had always viewed emotions as something to be controlled, to be kept at bay. But now, watching him wield them with such precision, she realized they could be so much more.

With a flick of his hand, the projections vanished, and the students found themselves back in the lecture hall. The air was still heavy with the echoes of the emotions Draven had displayed, but the room itself was unchanged. Draven, standing at the front of the class, lowered his hand, deactivating the magic circle with effortless grace.

For a moment, there was silence. The students, still reeling from the intensity of the experience, exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. Even the top students—Amberine, Elara, and Maris—were humbled by the display of Draven's mastery.

Elara, who had always been hailed as the genius child, found herself unable to deny just how far Draven's understanding of magic surpassed her own. But instead of feeling frustrated, as she might have in the past, she felt something else entirely.

As she thought back to the scenes she had just witnessed—the desolate wasteland, the endless ocean, the bottomless chasm—she realized there was only one word to describe what she was feeling.

She was captivated.

Draven, sensing the shift in the room, gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "There will be no supplementary class," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Support your grades through the quizzes and assignments."

He turned his sharp gaze toward the class once more, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. "Class dismissed."

With that, he flicked his hand, and the magic dissipated completely, leaving the students in stunned silence as they slowly gathered their things, their minds still reeling from what they had just witnessed.

Amberine, looking at the mindblowing lecture could only utter a single word.

"Impossible..."