The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The first thing I noticed was the variety of people present. There were seasoned adventurers with worn armor and hardened faces, fresh recruits with fear still gleaming in their eyes, and local militia who looked barely able to hold their weapons properly. Each person told a story, their stances, and actions revealing much about their backgrounds and current state of mind.

A group of adventurers stood in the corner, their armor marked with the insignia of the Ironclad Phoenix. They exuded confidence, but the tension in their shoulders and the hushed tone of their conversation betrayed their underlying anxiety. Victor, the S-ranked swordsman, stood among them, his eyes darting around as if searching for an unseen enemy.

He had the look of a man trying to mask his doubts with bravado. I observed him closely, noting the fresh bandages wrapped around his side. His injury was slowing him down, yet he was too proud to admit it.

Nearby, a cluster of young recruits huddled together, their expressions a mix of fear and determination. They spoke in low voices, likely sharing tales of the recent battle and trying to bolster each other's spirits. One of them, a young archer with wide, terrified eyes, clutched his bow so tightly his knuckles were white.

He was barely out of his teens, yet here he was, thrust into a war he was unprepared for. It was clear he was trying to steel himself for the fight to come, but the tremor in his hands betrayed his fear.

The local militia was another matter entirely. They were ill-equipped and poorly trained, their faces etched with desperation. I spotted their leader, a burly man with a permanent scowl, trying to organize his men. His shouts were authoritative, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. He was a farmer or a blacksmith, thrust into a role he was never meant to play.

The militia mirrored his unease, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. They would be the first to break if the goblins attacked again.

As I continued my observations, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of frustration. These people were unprepared for the fight ahead, and it was a miracle they had survived this long. "Know your enemy, know yourself, and you will win any battle," Sun Tzu had once said. Only a fool would march into battle without understanding both their own strengths and the enemy's weaknesses.

Yet here I was, dealing with fools who had allowed goblins, mere goblins, to become such a significant threat.

My inner monologue turned darker as I considered the implications. How had it come to this? Goblins, typically weak and disorganized, had formed a massive force that threatened entire regions. This level of coordination and strength suggested a more sinister influence at play, yet the adventurers and militia had been caught completely off guard.

My thoughts spiraled into a mix of curses and negative sentiments, frustration bubbling up as I watched the disarray around me.

"Pathetic," I muttered under my breath. "How could they let it get this bad?"

The answer was clear: complacency and underestimation. The people of this region had grown complacent, believing that their usual strength and strategies would be enough to deal with any threat. They had underestimated the goblins, viewing them as a minor nuisance rather than a serious danger. Now, they were paying the price for their arrogance.

As I moved through the fortress, I overheard snippets of conversation that only fueled my frustration. Adventurers spoke of their shock at the goblins' tactics, their disbelief that such a disorganized enemy could pose a real threat. The militia grumbled about the lack of support and training, their resentment towards the higher-ups evident in their bitter tones.

It was a mess, and I couldn't help but feel a deep-seated anger towards those who had allowed it to happen.

"Dravis, they need you in the war council," a voice broke through my thoughts. Sharon, Sophie's adjutant, approached me, her expression soft and grateful. It was a stark contrast to how she had looked at Draven. Her gratitude was palpable, but I only nodded in response, not even bothering to remove my hood.

As Sharon walked away, Sylara approached, her nonchalant and lazy attitude masking the sharpness in her eyes. She could sense my instability, which was rare for me. "You okay?" she asked, her voice casual.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the swirling emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "It's fine," I replied curtly, not wanting to delve into the complexities of my feelings.

Sylara didn't press further, understanding that now was not the time for a deep conversation. I made my way to the war council, my mind still racing with thoughts of frustration and anger. As I entered the room, Sophie's presence made my heart race. She was focused on a map spread out on the table, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Seeing her like this, so dedicated and fierce, stirred something within me.

Damn it, Draven. These emotions weren't mine. They belonged to the original Draven, and I cursed him for it. I couldn't afford to be distracted by feelings of sadness, rage, and love swirling within me. Not now, not when we were on the brink of another battle.

"Dravis," Sophie said, looking up and meeting my gaze. Her eyes were filled with a mix of determination and concern. "We need your input on the next steps."

I forced myself to focus, shoving down the intense emotions with sheer mental power. "Of course," I replied, stepping forward to examine the map.

As I looked at Sophie, my heart continued to race, my body reacting in ways I couldn't control. The sight of her brought a rush of emotions that I had to suppress. I couldn't let the original Draven's feelings interfere with my judgment. This wasn't the time for personal matters.

"Here," Sophie pointed to a section of the map, drawing my attention. "We need to fortify this area. The goblins are likely to strike here next."

I nodded, analyzing the terrain and the strategic advantages and disadvantages. "We'll need to set up traps and reinforce our defenses. Their last attack showed they're more organized than we anticipated. We can't underestimate them again."

Sophie nodded, her eyes meeting mine. "Agreed. What about the scouts? We need to gather more intelligence on their movements."

"I'll handle that," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "We need to know their numbers, their strategies, and any potential weaknesses. Only then can we plan a proper counterattack."

The rest of the council continued discussing strategies, their voices blending into a hum of urgent conversation. My mind was only half-focused on their words, the other half struggling to maintain control over the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

Damn it, Draven. I cursed his name silently, telling him to stop bothering me. This wasn't the time to let personal feelings interfere. We were in the middle of a war, and I couldn't afford any distractions.

I forced myself to stay calm, to focus on the task at hand. Sophie's presence was a constant distraction, but I couldn't let it show. I had to remain composed, to ensure that my leadership wasn't compromised.

"Dravis, what do you think?" Sophie's voice broke through my thoughts, drawing me back to the present.

I looked up, meeting her gaze. "We need to prioritize gathering intelligence," I said firmly. "Without knowing their full capabilities, we're fighting blind. I'll lead a scouting mission tonight. We'll get the information we need and plan our next move accordingly."

Sophie nodded, her expression one of agreement. "Good. We can't afford to make any more mistakes."

As the council continued, I felt the emotions slowly subsiding, pushed down by my determination and focus. I couldn't let them control me. Not now, not ever. I had a mission to complete, and I wouldn't let anything stand in my way.

The war council ended with a sense of urgency, everyone aware of the stakes. As I left the room, I couldn't help but glance back at Sophie. She was deep in conversation with Victor and Lila, her expression serious and focused.

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I took a deep breath, steadying myself. The feelings would have to wait. There was a war to be fought, and I needed to be at my best. The original Draven's emotions would not control me. I was in charge now, and I would see this through to the end.

As I walked away, the fortress was already buzzing with activity. Adventurers and soldiers moved with purpose, preparing for the next battle. I had a mission to complete, and nothing would stand in my way.

But as I was about to go back to my quarters, a butler, a very familiar one, is already standing in front of my door. He's wearing a cloak and uses the hood to conceal his face, but I know his presence better than anyone.

"Alfred?" I called him. "What are you doing here?" I noticed he was holding a certain envelope in his hands.

"My lord," He kneeled. "You have a direct command from her majesty. I believe this need your urgent attention,"