The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"Elara, why don't you take a break?" Her father's voice broke the silence, causing her to flinch. He stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. His tall frame cast a shadow over the threshold, a reminder of the authority he wielded both in the household and beyond. "You've been at it for hours."

"I'm fine, Father," she replied, not looking up from the scattered parchments before her. Her tone was clipped, the words a shield against the intrusion.

"Maybe I can help," he persisted, stepping into the room. "I studied magic circles extensively during my time at the academy." His voice carried a note of pride, as if his past achievements could somehow solve her present dilemma.

"I don't need help," Elara said, her tone icy. "I need quiet." The atmosphere in the room grew colder, her words a clear dismissal. She felt the tension in her father's stance, the struggle between his desire to assist and the sting of her rejection.

Her father sighed, clearly at a loss. "You're too stubborn for your own good sometimes, Elara." His voice softened, the frustration giving way to a familiar, helpless concern. "You can't always do everything on your own."

Before she could retort, her mother appeared, placing a gentle hand on her husband's arm. Her presence was a calming influence, her serene demeanor a contrast to her husband's intensity. "Darling, let her be. She knows what she's doing."

Her father opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. With a final, frustrated glance at Elara, he left the room, muttering under his breath about youthful arrogance and the folly of pride.

"Thank you, Mother," Elara said softly, her gaze still fixed on her work. Her mother's intervention had saved her from another drawn-out argument, one she had neither the energy nor the inclination to endure.

Her mother smiled, a sad, knowing smile. "You're so much like him, you know. Always pushing yourself so hard." She walked over to Elara, her hand lightly touching her daughter's shoulder. "But remember, even the strongest need rest."

Elara didn't respond. Instead, she gathered her papers and shoved them into her satchel. The gesture was almost violent, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil. "I'm going back to the dormitory," she announced, standing up. Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

"Are you sure? You just got home," her mother said, her brow furrowing in concern. The worry lines on her face deepened, a silent testament to the many nights spent fretting over her daughter's well-being.

"Yes," Elara said, her voice brooking no argument. "I need to focus, and I can't do that here." She avoided her mother's gaze, knowing that the concern in her eyes would only add to her guilt.

Her mother nodded, understanding. "Be safe, Elara." The words were laced with an unspoken plea, a hope that her daughter would find not only the answers she sought but also the peace she desperately needed.

Elara gave a curt nod and left, the heavy door closing with a soft thud behind her. The journey back to the dormitory was a blur, her mind consumed with thoughts of the magic circle and the philosophical connections she couldn't quite grasp.

She entered her room, threw her satchel onto the bed, and sank into the chair by her desk, staring at the pieces of parchment with a mixture of anger and despair.

Hours passed, the silence of the room interrupted only by the occasional frustrated sigh or muttered curse. Finally, Elara pushed the papers away, rubbing her temples. "This is pointless," she muttered. "I need a break."

She stood up, grabbed her cloak, and left the dormitory. The cool night air hit her face, refreshing and bracing. The streets were lively, the usual bustle of the night market a welcome distraction. Elara rarely visited the market, finding it beneath her, but tonight she needed something different.

The aromas of roasting meat and exotic spices filled the air, drawing her deeper into the throng of people. She wandered from stall to stall, her eyes wide with curiosity. Despite herself, she found the experience strangely exhilarating. She stopped at a stall selling skewers of meat, the vendor's jovial smile catching her off guard.

"Evening, miss! Care to try one? Best in the market!" he proclaimed, his voice booming.

Elara hesitated, then nodded. "I'll take one."

As she bit into the skewer, the savory flavors exploded in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. For a moment, the frustration and stress melted away, replaced by a simple pleasure she rarely allowed herself.

However, her moment of calm was abruptly shattered by a commotion nearby. Opening her eyes, Elara saw Amberine, her rival, sprinting past in hot pursuit of someone. Elara's eyes narrowed with a mix of irritation and curiosity. "What is that idiot doing now?" she muttered, tossing the half-eaten skewer aside.

Determined to uncover Amberine's latest folly, Elara wove through the bustling crowd with ease. Her agile movements contrasted with the chaos around her. As she turned the corner into a narrow alley, her heart pounded at the sight of Amberine surrounded by thugs.

"Amberine, you fool!" Elara hissed, anger laced with a surprising twinge of concern. Instinctively, she raised her hand and cast a light spell. The sudden flare illuminated the dark alley, startling the thugs and momentarily blinding them.

But the thugs were quicker than Elara anticipated. One of them lunged at her, his fist connecting with her jaw. She staggered, tasting blood, but retaliated with a blast of water, knocking him off his feet. Another thug grabbed her from behind, and she struggled fiercely, her magic flaring wildly. Despite her talent, Elara lacked real combat experience, and it showed.

Her spells were powerful but unfocused, her movements driven by desperation rather than strategy.

A blade flashed in the darkness, slicing through her sleeve and grazing her arm. Elara cried out in pain, her spell faltering. Panic gripped her as the thugs closed in, their menacing faces twisted with cruel intent. Summoning every ounce of her strength, she cast a shield spell, a shimmering barrier of light that pushed the thugs back momentarily.

But the effort drained her, and she could feel her energy waning.

Elara fought on, casting spell after spell, determined not to go down without a fight. She conjured a gust of wind, sending debris flying at her attackers, then followed it with a barrage of ice shards that glittered dangerously in the dim light. One thug screamed as an ice shard lodged in his shoulder, and another fell to the ground, clutching his leg where a shard had pierced through.

Despite her fierce resistance, the thugs regrouped, their numbers overwhelming her. They attacked from all sides, and Elara found herself outmatched. A heavy blow to her back sent her sprawling to the ground, her shield flickering and dying. Gritting her teeth, she struggled to rise, only to be kicked back down.

As darkness edged into her vision, Elara saw Amberine, unconscious and vulnerable, being dragged away by a thug. A surge of protectiveness and anger coursed through her, fueling one last desperate spell. Flames erupted from her hands, a fiery arc that forced the thugs to retreat momentarily.

"Back off!" Elara shouted, her voice hoarse. The thugs hesitated, unnerved by the intensity of her magic, but only for a moment. They regrouped quickly, and one of them landed a vicious blow to her temple. Stars exploded in her vision, and she collapsed, her body unable to withstand any more.

Just as the thugs prepared to finish her off, the shouts of guards filled the alley. The sudden arrival of reinforcements sent the thugs scattering. Elara lay on the ground, her vision swimming, barely conscious. She saw the unconscious form of Amberine being carried away by a guard and managed a weak smile. "Stupid," she muttered, satisfied that Amberine was safe.

The next few hours were a blur. Elara found herself at the guards' post, her wounds being tended to by a stern-faced woman. The woman's hands were gentle but firm as she cleaned and bandaged Elara's injuries.

"You're lucky," the woman said gruffly, her voice softened by a hint of concern. "Could have been a lot worse."

Elara nodded, too exhausted to respond. Her mind drifted back to the magic circle, the task that seemed so impossible. But now, lying here, battered and bruised, she felt a strange sense of clarity. Maybe it wasn't about solving it on her own. Maybe she needed help, as much as she hated to admit it.

After what felt like an eternity, she was released, her injuries bandaged and her pride wounded. She made her way back to the dormitory, her steps slow and deliberate. As she approached the building, she saw Amberine heading in the opposite direction, her movements determined.

"Elara..." She uttered as she widened her eyes, maybe after looking at the same state Elara is in as her.

"Idiot," Elara snorted.

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