The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The northern front had been a proving ground, not just for the soldiers and mages under my command, but for my plans as well. The goblins had been more organized than anticipated, their ferocity greater than we expected. Yet, as I stood on the battlefield, directing my forces, there was a part of me that relished the challenge.

The soldiers of the Drakhan house had risen to the occasion, their resolve unshaken even in the face of overwhelming odds. They had fought like the warriors they were trained to be, and their victory had been decisive.

But the battle was only the beginning. The real work was just beginning.

"Master Draven," Alfred's voice broke through my thoughts as the carriage came to a halt. "We've arrived at the mansion." Your adventure continues at m v|l-e'm,p| y- r

I nodded, stepping out into the crisp night air. The familiar sight of the Drakhan mansion, with its towering spires and dark stone walls, greeted me like an old friend. The soldiers who had accompanied me disembarked from their own carriages, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. They had earned their rest, but there was still work to be done.

"Everything is ready, I assume?" I asked, turning to Alfred as he fell into step beside me.

"Yes, Master," Alfred replied, his tone as composed as ever. "The crates have been prepared as you instructed. The magic circles you designed have been etched into each one, ensuring that the corpses remain perfectly preserved."

"Good," I said, feeling a sense of satisfaction. "Have them taken to the chamber beneath the study. I'll begin the experiments immediately."

Alfred gave a curt nod and motioned to the soldiers, who began unloading the crates from the carriages. The air was thick with the cold, but I paid it no mind as I watched the crates being carried inside. Each one was a testimony to our victory, filled with the frozen corpses of the goblins we had slain.

I had ensured that they were preserved with the utmost care, using a combination of ice magic and a complex spell to create a makeshift freezer within each crate. It was a task that had taken time and precision, but it was necessary for what was to come.

As the soldiers moved the crates, a few of them exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease. They were no doubt wondering what I intended to do with the goblin corpses, but none dared to ask.

The Drakhan family had long been granted the freedom to experiment with magic by the royal family, and while necromancy was a sensitive subject, I had no qualms about pushing the boundaries of what was considered acceptable. My aptitude for necromancy, according to my status, was only at a (C) level—not particularly impressive.

But with my intellect and analytical skills, I was confident that I could make something of it.

"Alfred," I called, breaking the silence as we made our way through the mansion's dimly lit corridors. "What do you make of necromancy?"

Alfred's response was measured, as always. "It is a field of magic that requires a delicate balance of power and control, Master. Few can master it without losing themselves to the darkness it often brings."

"True," I mused, my thoughts drifting to the experiments I had planned. "But it is also a tool, one that can be used to great effect if wielded properly."

We reached the study, and I pushed open the heavy door. The room was as I had left it, lined with bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and manuscripts. A large desk sat in the center, covered in parchment and magical artifacts. But it was the trapdoor in the corner that held my attention. I crossed the room and knelt to open it, revealing a stone staircase leading down into the darkness.

"Bring the crates down," I ordered, my voice echoing off the stone walls as I descended into the chamber below. The air grew colder as we moved deeper underground, the faint hum of magical energy growing stronger. This chamber had been designed specifically for experimentation, a place where I could work in peace, free from prying eyes.

The soldiers followed, carrying the crates with practiced ease. Alfred lit the torches lining the walls, casting a flickering light over the room. It was a large, circular space, the walls lined with intricate carvings and magical symbols. At the center of the chamber was a raised platform, surrounded by a series of concentric circles etched into the stone floor.

"Place them here," I instructed, motioning to the platform. The soldiers did as they were told, arranging the crates in a neat row. I could feel the anticipation building within me as I watched them work. This was it—the culmination of my efforts, the moment where theory would be put to the test.

Once the crates were in place, I dismissed the soldiers with a nod. They left without a word, leaving only Alfred and me in the chamber. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint crackle of the torches.

"Alfred, seal the chamber," I said, my voice low. "I don't want any interruptions."

Alfred moved to the entrance, placing his hand on the stone door. A pulse of magic flowed from his fingertips, sealing the chamber with a barrier that would prevent any sound or magical energy from escaping. It was a precaution, but a necessary one.

"Thank you," I said, turning my attention back to the crates. "Now, let's see what we can do."

I began by inspecting the first crate, running my hand over the smooth wood. The magic circle etched into its surface glowed faintly, a sign that the preservation spell was still active. Satisfied, I opened the crate, revealing the frozen corpses of several goblins. Their lifeless eyes stared up at me, their bodies stiff and cold.

To most, they would be nothing more than trophies of a hard-fought battle. But to me, they were potential.

I reached out with my magic, drawing upon the power of necromancy that had been lying dormant within me. It was a strange sensation—cold, yet not entirely unpleasant. I could feel the magic flowing through me, responding to my will as I focused on the first corpse. The circle of necromancy, as I remembered it from my studies, was simple enough.

It required a specific arrangement of symbols and a chant to bind the soul to the body. But I was not interested in simply reanimating these corpses. I wanted control, precision. I wanted to push the limits of what this magic could do.

The first attempt was clumsy. The symbols I etched into the air glowed with an unstable light, and the chant felt disjointed as it left my lips. The goblin's corpse twitched, its limbs jerking awkwardly as the magic took hold. But the connection was weak, and the spell failed before it could fully animate the body. I frowned, analyzing the process in my mind.

The problem, I realized, was in the binding. The circle needed to be more precise, the symbols more refined.

I tried again, this time adjusting the arrangement of the symbols. The chant came more easily now, the words flowing smoothly as I focused on the goblin's corpse. This time, the magic took hold, and the goblin's eyes flickered with a faint light as it rose to its feet. It was a crude form of animation, but it was a start.

"Interesting," I muttered, watching as the goblin stood there, swaying slightly. The control was there, but it was rudimentary at best. I could feel the strain of maintaining the connection, the magic requiring constant attention to keep the corpse from collapsing.

I dismissed the spell, letting the goblin fall back into the crate. There was potential here, but it needed refinement. The necromancy I was attempting required more than just brute force—it required finesse, an understanding of the delicate balance between life and death. And that was something I intended to master.

I spent the next several hours experimenting with different variations of the circle, adjusting the symbols, and refining the chant. Each attempt brought me closer to the level of control I desired. The goblins rose and fell, their movements becoming more fluid, their responses more precise. But there was still a limit to what I could achieve with my current aptitude.

I paused, wiping the sweat from my brow as I stepped back to examine my work. Fifty goblins now stood before me, their lifeless eyes glowing with the faint light of necromantic magic. They were crude, imperfect creations, but they were mine to command.

"Not bad for a first attempt," I mused, a small smile playing at the corners of my lips. "But this is only the beginning."

I turned my attention to the largest crate—the one that held the goblin king. It had been the most difficult to preserve, its massive body requiring a more complex spell to maintain its frozen state. But it was also the key to my next experiment.

"Alfred," I called, my voice echoing in the chamber. "Prepare the platform. We're going to see if we can take this a step further."