The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 441: Amberine’s Struggle

Amberine’s eyes fluttered open. She didn’t know for how long she has been here, but she’s too thirsty and hungry, it felt like it has been days. Her vision blurry in the dim light of the chamber. Her entire body ached, the cold, searing pain from the tattoos still burning across her skin. The enchanted chains dug into her wrists, sapping her mana, leaving her weak and vulnerable. She tried to shift, but her muscles screamed in protest, the cold metal biting against her skin. She let out a shaky breath, her heart heavy with despair, but somewhere deep inside her, something kept her fighting. She wasn’t going to give up. She couldn’t.

It was dark, almost suffocating. Only the faint, glowing symbols on the walls provided a glimmer of light. She was exhausted—her mana almost completely drained, her body weak and battered. But Amberine had always been stubborn. Her spirit refused to break, even as her physical strength ebbed away. She clenched her jaw, squeezing her eyes shut, focusing on the flicker of warmth still inside her. She could almost hear Ifrit’s voice, urging her to be strong, not to let fear control her.

She wanted to be strong, but fear was relentless. It seeped into her thoughts, into her very bones, whispering that there was no hope. That there was no way out. But Amberine refused to listen. She took a deep, shaky breath, forcing herself to focus, to think of something other than the pain and the darkness that surrounded her. She thought of Ifrit’s warmth, of the fire spirit who always seemed to understand her, to care for her. She thought of Draven, too—his face when she had been pulled through the portal, the expression of frustration, even panic that she had never seen from him before.

She couldn’t afford to lose hope. Not when there was still a chance—even a slim one—that she could escape. She wasn’t ready to give up yet. Amberine opened her eyes, her gaze narrowing as she stared at the enchanted chains. She had to try. She had to fight, even if it hurt, even if it seemed impossible.

Slowly, she began to test the chains, her fingers trembling as she tugged at them. The metal was cold, biting against her skin, but she gritted her teeth and pulled harder. She could feel her mana draining, the chains tightening painfully around her wrists, but she forced herself to push through it. She closed her eyes, concentrating on what little mana she had left, trying to draw it into her hands. It was weak, a flickering ember compared to her usual magic, but it was there.

Amberine took a deep breath, her fingers clenching as she tried to channel her mana into the chains. She whispered a minor incantation, her voice barely audible, the words almost lost in the darkness. The magic flickered, struggling against the chains that were designed to absorb it. She felt the backlash almost immediately—a sharp, searing pain that shot up her arms, making her cry out. Her body tensed, her wrists burning, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t afford to stop.

She tried again, her voice cracking as she spoke the words of the spell. The chains absorbed most of the magic, the backlash hitting her again, harder this time. The pain was unbearable, her body convulsing as the energy tore through her. Tears welled up in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop. She bit her lip, her voice trembling as she tried once more, her determination pushing her past the pain, past the exhaustion.

Her vision blurred, her body trembling, but she refused to give in. She pulled against the chains, her mana flickering weakly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The chains tightened again, the pain intensifying, but she didn’t care. She had to fight. She had to try. Even if it hurt, even if it felt impossible—she couldn’t afford to give up.

The door creaked open, the sound echoing through the small chamber, and Amberine’s heart sank. She looked up, her eyes widening as she saw the grotesque figure shuffle into the room. His body moved with that unsettling, jerky gait, his limbs bending at odd angles, his head bobbing as if he was listening to some unheard tune. His grin spread across his lips, crooked and wide, revealing yellowed, uneven teeth.

Amberine’s body tensed, her heart pounding as the figure approached her, his gaze fixed on her with an unsettling intensity. He giggled, the sound chilling, childlike yet filled with something dark and twisted. He reached into his cloak, pulling out the familiar black book, his fingers twitching as he held it close to his chest.

"The pretty light... yes, yes... dancing shadows," he muttered, his voice raspy, his words disjointed, barely making any sense. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her, his grin widening. "So much potential... but not yet... not yet."

Amberine felt her body trembling, her skin crawling as he moved closer, his gaze locked onto her. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, his touch cold and clammy. She flinched, turning her head away, but the chains held her in place, preventing her from escaping his touch.

"You tried to run... oh yes, you did," he whispered, his voice filled with mockery. He let out a soft chuckle, his fingers trailing down her face, his touch lingering, almost as if he was savoring her fear. "But you can’t run. Not from me. Not from what’s inside you."

Amberine’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide, her body trembling. She wanted to scream, to tell him to get away from her, but the words wouldn’t come. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing, fear clawing at her insides.

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The grotesque figure pulled out the glowing green needle, the same one he had used before. Amberine’s eyes widened, her body tensing as he approached her, his grin widening with excitement. He held the needle up, the green light pulsating faintly, rhythmic, almost hypnotic.

"The mark... yes, the mark will bring it out," he muttered, his voice filled with glee. He moved closer, his crooked grin widening. "The potential... hidden deep inside... I’ll bring it out."

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Amberine flinched as the needle touched her skin, the cold, searing pain returning. She bit her lip, her body trembling, tears welling up in her eyes as the figure began to draw the dark lines across her skin. The pain was unbearable, a deep, burning cold that seemed to seep into her bones, leaving her breathless.

"So much potential," the figure whispered, his voice almost reverent. He traced the needle across her skin, the dark lines spreading, glowing faintly before fading into black ink. "Your father... he tried to hide it, oh yes, he did... but he failed. Just like you will."

Amberine’s heart pounded, her mind reeling. Her father—what did he mean? What power was he talking about? She tried to focus, tried to make sense of his words, but the pain was too much. Her body trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"The mark will unlock it... unlock what lies within," the figure muttered, his voice filled with excitement. He moved the needle with care, his grin widening as the dark lines spread further, winding their way up her arm, across her shoulder. "Yes... yes, the mark... it will bring it out."

Amberine’s body convulsed, her fingers clenching, her teeth gritted as she tried to endure the pain. She felt the darkness creeping into her, the cold lines winding their way through her skin, seeping deep inside her. She didn’t understand what was happening—what he was doing to her—but she knew it was wrong. She could feel it in her very bones, a sense of dread that twisted her insides.

As the grotesque figure continued his work, Amberine’s ears caught the sound of voices—guards speaking in hushed tones just outside the door. She tried to focus, tried to block out the pain and listen to what they were saying. The grotesque figure seemed oblivious, fully absorbed in his work, his attention focused solely on the needle and the dark lines spreading across her skin.

"The Holy Scriptures," one of the guards whispered, his voice barely audible. "They know about the prison dimension because of the texts. The Devil Coffin... they’re using the scriptures to navigate it."

Amberine’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening. The Holy Scriptures—the key to understanding the prison dimension. Her mind raced, trying to process what she was hearing. The grotesque figure continued his work, completely unaware of the conversation happening just outside the door.

"The archbishop is preparing for something," another guard said, his voice low, urgent. "Something involving the girl. It’s why they’re marking her—the tattoos are part of the ritual."

Amberine’s breath caught, her body tensing. The archbishop—the Devil Coffin’s leader. The tattoos, the mark—it was all part of some twisted plan, some ritual. She didn’t understand it, but she knew one thing for certain—she had to get out. She had to escape, had to find a way to break free before it was too late.

The grotesque figure finally stepped back, his eyes wide with delight as he admired his work. He traced a finger over the dark lines, a strange, almost reverent look in his eyes. Amberine shivered, her body trembling, her skin burning with the cold, dark energy that seemed to pulse beneath the surface.

"Yes... yes, the mark is almost complete," he muttered, his voice distant, filled with excitement. He looked at her, his grin widening. "The next phase will be soon... so soon."

He turned, his movements jerky, erratic, his laughter echoing off the stone walls. Amberine watched as he slipped out of the room, the door creaking shut behind him, leaving her alone in the darkness once again.

Her body sagged against the chains, her eyes closing as she tried to catch her breath. The pain was still there, a deep, burning cold that made her entire body ache. But amidst the pain, amidst the fear, there was a flicker of hope. She had heard something—something that could help her. The black book, the Holy Scriptures—they held the key. If she could get her hands on them, if she could find a way to understand them, she might have a chance to escape.

Amberine took a deep breath, her eyes opening, her gaze narrowing as she stared at the door. She was alone. Ifrit wasn’t here, and she had no idea if Draven was coming for her. She didn’t even know if he would save her if he could. But then she remembered it—the look on his face when she was pulled through the portal. The frustration, the panic, the determination she had never seen from him before.

"He..."

"Will. Save me..."

Amberine clenched her teeth, her fingers curling into fists. She couldn’t let herself give up. She couldn’t let herself be weak. Not now. Not when there was still a chance.

She took a shaky breath, her voice a soft whisper in the darkness, a promise to herself. "I won’t fail… Professor."