The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Chapter 609: A Dance of Calculation and Control

Chapter 609: A Dance of Calculation and Control

The tension between us was palpable, a silent war waged through mana alone. The very air crackled where our power met, neither willing to concede ground, neither willing to make the first move. The chamber's dim, flickering light cast long shadows that stretched unnaturally, distorted by the arcane forces pressing against them. The magic in this place, woven into its very foundations, recognized what was happening. It vibrated like a living thing, uncertain whether to flee or bear witness.

Kyrion, or rather, the man who had masqueraded as Asterion, stood opposite me, his youthful face eerily composed. His silver hair, once streaked with age, now flowed in gleaming waves, his once-worn features smoothed by whatever necromantic process had restored him. But his eyes—his eyes held the weight of centuries, a knowing gleam untouched by his apparent rebirth. He wasn't pretending. He was someone who had seen death in every form, who had wielded it and survived its grasp.

I could have attacked. My pens hovered around me, vibrating with suppressed power. The Devil's Pen pulsed like a beating heart, eager, whispering in a language only I could hear. The Fire Pen burned steady and patient, ready to consume. The Water Elven Pen exuded a cold precision, fluid and ruthless. And the Psychokinesis Pen hung in the air like an unblinking eye, waiting for my command.

But I held back. Not out of hesitation, not out of fear. No, I had already run through every scenario in my mind the moment his illusion fell away. I needed more information, and I needed him to talk first.

Kyrion, ever perceptive, seemed to understand that. And then, he did something I hadn't anticipated.

He laughed.

A slow, deep chuckle, rich with amusement, cutting through the thick silence like a blade. It wasn't forced, nor was it mocking—it was genuine. He lowered his hands, letting the tension ease just slightly, though his power remained coiled beneath his skin, waiting.