The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The force of the impact sent a powerful shockwave through the room, knocking some of the knights off balance. Sophie felt the vibrations travel through her bones, the sheer power of the clash ringing in her ears. She saw Draven's arms tense, the muscles coiling like steel cables, holding the orc's blade at bay.

For a moment, the orc leaned into him, their faces mere inches apart, a snarl curling on the creature's lips. And then, the orc pushed harder, forcing Draven back a few steps.

But Draven's expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever, even as blood trickled from a gash that now marked his shoulder, staining his armor crimson. His sharp eyes narrowed, a glint of something almost dangerous flickering in them.

Sophie gasped. "Dravis, you're hurt!"

Draven gave her a sidelong glance, the barest hint of annoyance flickering across his face. His voice came out low, calm, and almost scornful. "Focus, Captain. There's no time to coddle."

He parried the orc's next attack with a swift motion, his blades moving with a deadly grace that seemed effortless. It was as if the wound on his shoulder meant nothing, and perhaps to Draven, it truly didn't. He spun out of the way of another incoming swing, the movement fluid, almost too quick for the orc to react.

Another rumble came from the ground, and Sophie looked over her shoulder. Her heart sank as she saw the portal begin to pulse and grow, its dark surface shimmering violently. The dark energy twisted, and she could see more figures moving on the other side—more orcs, their dark eyes glowing, stepping closer.

"Another one..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The portal flared again, its glow illuminating the chamber as it expanded, and for a brief moment, it felt as though the very air was being sucked into it. The orcs were coming through, and this time, they were coming in greater numbers. She had no time to process what was happening—no time to think or plan. They were being overwhelmed.

Draven moved like a blur, his sharp eyes taking in everything. He turned his head slightly, his voice cutting through the chaos with an icy edge. "Everyone, support Sophie. Protect her and keep her focused on the convergence point." His gaze flicked up to Sylvanna. "Sylvanna, stay on overwatch. Keep any of them from getting too close."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

He didn't look back to see if his orders were followed—he didn't need to. He knew they would. His confidence, his cold certainty, was almost palpable. He stepped forward, his blades glowing faintly as he faced the newly emerging orcs.

"Let me cover this time," he said, his voice so calm it was chilling. There was no hesitation, no fear—just a cold, calculated determination.

Sharon's eyes widened, her lips parting as if to argue, but Theo's hand on her shoulder stopped her. He gave her a steady look, his eyes filled with silent understanding. "He's right. We need to trust him now. We've got our orders—let's protect Lady Sophie."

Sharon gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowing as she watched Draven step towards the portal, his swords already raised. She turned her back to him, facing the shadows that still surrounded them. "You heard him! Keep those damn things off my lady!"

The new wave of corrupted orcs began to step through the portal, their hulking frames covered in heavy, twisted armor, their eyes blazing with malevolence. They hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, as they saw Draven standing before them. His stance was relaxed, almost casual, but there was something about the way he stood—something about the cold intensity in his gaze—that gave them pause.

Draven's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. He took a step forward, his blades glinting in the crimson light, and his voice echoed through the chamber, low and filled with a chilling authority. "Come," he said, his eyes locked onto the approaching orcs. "Fear me."

The words hung in the air, carrying with them an aura of menace that seemed to seep into the very stones of the chamber. The corrupted orcs, massive and filled with dark energy, found themselves hesitating, their steps faltering. It was as if they could sense something about this man—something that went beyond the physical, something darker, more terrifying.

And then, in an instant, Draven moved.

He was a blur of darkness and steel, his blades cutting through the air with a deadly precision that was almost beautiful. He stepped into the first orc, his twin blades arcing outwards, one slicing cleanly across the orc's throat while the other plunged into its chest, piercing the dark energy that held it together.

The orc let out a choked roar, its eyes widening in shock before it crumpled to the ground.

Before the others could react, Draven was already moving again, his body twisting as he brought his blades down on the next orc. His strikes were swift, deliberate, each one aimed at the weak points he had already identified—the exposed joints, the gaps in their dark armor, the places where the corrupted energy was most vulnerable.

One of the orcs roared, its massive hand swinging towards Draven, but he sidestepped effortlessly, his blade slicing through the orc's wrist, severing its hand. The creature let out a guttural cry, stumbling back, and Draven followed up with a precise thrust, his blade driving into its chest, extinguishing the dark glow in its eyes.

From above, Sylvanna watched, her bow drawn, her eyes wide. She had always known Draven was skilled, but this—this was something else entirely. There was no hesitation in his movements, no wasted effort. He fought with a cold, calculated efficiency that was almost inhuman. Each strike was deadly, each movement perfectly controlled. It was like watching a force of nature, unstoppable and terrifying.

The corrupted orcs, massive and powerful as they were, began to hesitate, their dark eyes flickering as they took in the sight before them. They had faced knights, warriors, and mages before. They had faced resistance, defiance, but this—this was different.

Draven wasn't just fighting them; he was dismantling them, tearing them apart with an ease that spoke of something far more dangerous than mere skill.

Draven stepped forward, his gaze cold, his blades dripping with the dark essence of the fallen orcs. Another orc charged at him, its roar echoing through the chamber, but Draven didn't even flinch. He met the creature head-on, his body moving like water, flowing around the orc's clumsy strike.

His blades flashed, one slicing through the orc's knee, bringing it down, while the other plunged into its neck, ending its life in an instant.

"Come," he said again, his voice low, almost a whisper, but it carried through the chamber, filled with an authority that seemed to freeze the very air. "Fear me."

The remaining orcs hesitated, their massive forms shuddering as if the darkness within them had suddenly grown cold. They glanced at one another, their eyes filled with uncertainty. They were creatures of darkness, corrupted and twisted, but they understood fear—and Draven was a being that embodied it.

Sophie, still focusing on the convergence point, could barely spare a glance at the battle behind her, but she could hear it. She could hear the roars of the orcs, the clash of metal, and the cold, commanding voice of Draven cutting through it all. She could feel the chill in his words, the authority that made even the corrupted orcs hesitate.

She took a deep breath, her focus returning to the dark energy that pulsed before her. The convergence point was weakening, the tendrils of dark magic flickering as she struck again, her frosted blade glowing brightly. She couldn't let herself be distracted—she had to trust Draven, trust her knights. They all had a role to play, and hers was to sever this connection.

"Push forward!" she shouted, her voice filled with determination. "We're almost there!"

Theo stood beside her, his shield raised, his body a solid wall against the shadows that still tried to surge forward. He glanced at Sophie, his eyes filled with a quiet confidence. "We've got you, Captain. Just keep going."

Sharon was fighting a shadow creature nearby, her broadsword swinging with a fierce power that seemed to shake the very air. She stole a quick glance at Sophie, her heart pounding. "My Lady, we're holding them off! Just do what you need to do!"