The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The golden figure that appeared before me radiated an aura so powerful that it seemed to warp the very air around him. His presence was undeniable—ancient, commanding, and filled with a cold majesty that made even Malakaroth hesitate. I knew who this was. I'd read enough lore, and I'd seen enough in my own time as Dravis Granger to recognize him immediately.

The one who gave me the magic pens.

This was Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes. The demigod, and king of Uruk.

Back in the game that I constructed, when players reached the questline involving Armandra, the story would take a drastic turn. The objective wasn't just to kill her; it was to retrieve the body of Chancellor Eliandris, and upon doing so, the Demon King Malakaroth would make his appearance. That was when Gilgamesh would arrive, summoned to put an end to the demon king's plans.

The game had always portrayed him as a figure of ultimate power, someone whose mere presence could shift the tides of war.

But this… this was no game. I could feel the reality of it all, the way his golden armor glowed with an inner light that didn't belong to any realm I knew. His eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed to pierce through everything. The weight of his authority pressed down on me, and I could see how the fabric of time and space had already started to buckle around him.

He was far more than the legend I had read about—he was a force of nature.

Malakaroth growled, the sound low and menacing, but Gilgamesh paid him no mind. He simply glanced at the remnants of dark energy that still lingered in the air, crushing them with a flex of his gauntlet-clad hand. "That was rather cheeky of you, mongrel," he said, his voice deep and filled with the kind of arrogance that only someone like him could pull off.

He didn't even turn to face Malakaroth yet.

I could only observe for now, my mind already running through the implications of his arrival. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. Yet, here he was, summoned by the threads of magic that tied together this place, and it was clear that the time-space rift had helped tear open whatever boundary held him.

The Tower of Magic was crumbling, and with it, the dungeonification process was accelerating. Gilgamesh's very presence had stabilized the collapse, but I knew it wouldn't last long without intervention.

Straightening myself, I adopted the tone I always used when speaking to Queen Aurelia, though this time I measured it even more carefully. This was Gilgamesh—someone even higher in stature than her majesty. "Your majesty, I—"

Gilgamesh waved his hand dismissively, still not looking at me. "No need for formalities. The situation calls for my presence, after all." His golden eyes finally flicked toward me, studying me with an intensity that made me feel like he was peeling back every layer of my soul. "I see what's happening here.

Time and space are in flux, the dungeonification is ripping this place apart, and that abomination…" He gestured lazily toward Malakaroth. "Well, it's no wonder my great self was summoned with such ease."

I instinctively glanced at the magic pen I held, the one imbued with the runes of ancient power. Gilgamesh had given it to me long ago—an artifact tied to the Gate of Babylonia itself. His eyes followed mine, and a knowing smirk spread across his face.

"No wonder indeed," he mused. "It seems my gift to you has done its job well."

"That's right, your majesty," I replied, keeping my voice level. Inside, my mind was still whirring. The magic pen had served me in many battles, but I had never expected it to summon him.

Gilgamesh chuckled softly. "I've been itching for some fun anyway. It's been far too long since I last stretched my power." He finally turned his full attention to Malakaroth, his smirk growing wider. "But before we get to that…"

He stared at the demon king with open disdain. "What's your name, mongrel?"

The air grew thick with Malakaroth's rage. His eyes burned crimson as his towering form loomed over both of us. "You dare—"

"Yes, yes, I dare," Gilgamesh interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "What's your name? Or are you too insignificant for even that?"

Malakaroth's growl turned into a roar, his voice filled with fury. "I am Malakaroth, the Blood-Forged Sovereign! King of the orcs and ogres, destroyer of realms! I will—"

"Ah, so you do have a name," Gilgamesh mused, still utterly uninterested in the demon's rage. "Good. I'll remember it for when I'm telling others of how easily I crushed you."

The demon king's fury reached a boiling point. His massive hand shot forward, summoning a vortex of dark energy that crackled with malevolent force. It surged toward Gilgamesh, fast and destructive, like a meteor tearing through the sky. But Gilgamesh didn't even flinch.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he summoned the Tablet Grimoire, the Gate of Babylonia, the very same artifact I had glimpsed long ago. The golden glow of the ancient grimoire illuminated the chamber, and in an instant, six portals appeared behind him, each glowing with a radiant light that made even the dark magic of Malakaroth seem weak in comparison.

"I'll be borrowing this a bit, Darius," Gilgamesh said, almost to himself, as if this entire battle was nothing more than an afterthought.

The first portal produced a sword, golden and shimmering with an ethereal light. Gilgamesh grasped it effortlessly, his movements fluid and graceful as he swung the blade in an arc that deflected Malakaroth's attack with a single strike. The dark energy dissipated like smoke, vanishing into nothingness.

From the other five portals came the heads of ancient staffs, each one radiating immense power. They hovered in the air, ready to strike, their tips crackling with divine energy. Gilgamesh didn't even need to command them; they responded to his will as if they were extensions of his own body.

"Now then," he said, finally giving Malakaroth his full attention, "let's see if you're worth my time, mongrel."

Malakaroth roared, his fury manifesting in the form of blackened flames that shot toward Gilgamesh like a tidal wave. The heat was intense, the very air around it warping from the sheer power, but Gilgamesh simply raised one of his portals in front of him. The black flames collided with the golden light of the portal, and for a moment, it seemed as if the flames would overpower it.

But then, with a single flick of his sword, Gilgamesh sent the flames spiraling back toward the demon king. Your journey continues with empire

"You'll have to do better than that," Gilgamesh taunted, his tone filled with amusement.

Malakaroth snarled, and with a sweep of his hand, he summoned a massive axe from the depths of his dark magic. The blade was jagged, pulsating with corrupt energy, and with a powerful swing, he brought it crashing down toward Gilgamesh.

But before the axe could connect, one of the staffs hovering behind Gilgamesh fired a beam of golden light, striking the axe head-on and shattering it into pieces. Malakaroth barely had time to react before the other staffs followed suit, each one firing beams of light that forced the demon king back, staggering him with their sheer power.

Gilgamesh laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed through the chamber. "Is that all? I was hoping for a challenge."

The demon king, undeterred, summoned more weapons, more dark magic, but each attack was met with effortless precision from Gilgamesh. The King of Heroes moved with a fluid grace, his golden sword cutting through Malakaroth's magic as if it were nothing more than a nuisance. Every strike, every movement was calculated, efficient, and devastating.

And yet, despite the ease with which Gilgamesh was dismantling Malakaroth's attacks, there was a certain joy in his eyes. He was enjoying this—thrilling in the battle, relishing the challenge, however small it might have been for him.

As the battle raged on, the magic tower began to tremble under the immense power being unleashed. I could feel the very structure of the dungeon starting to buckle, the threads of reality fraying at the edges. If this continued, the entire place would collapse.

Gilgamesh seemed to sense it too. With a sharp glance, he raised his hand, and from another portal, a glowing, crystalline shield emerged. He tossed it into the air, and it expanded, covering the entire tower in a protective dome of golden light.

"There," he muttered, almost to himself. "Wouldn't want to break the place. After all, I'm enjoying myself."

Despite of his arrogance, his eyes are very sharp and looking at things in the bigger picture, it seems. I guess that's as expected as someone deemed as one of the greatest king ever exist.

Malakaroth, realizing that brute force wasn't working, roared in frustration. "You dare mock me, human? I am a demon king! My power is—"

"Boring," Gilgamesh interrupted, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're boring me."