The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 382: The Professor’s Clone’s Plan
It had been three days since the real Draven had been absorbed into the world of [Quest]. The clone that now stood in his place at the Magic Tower University—the professor Draven—had lost all connection with the memories of the original. He could no longer feel the real Draven’s presence, nor could he access the experiences or the challenges that the original might be facing in [Quest]. It was as though an invisible cord had been severed, leaving him adrift with only his own faculties and knowledge to manage everything that had been left behind.
Draven looked out over the grounds of the University, his eyes narrowed, reflecting the sharpness of his thoughts. He could do nothing to help the real Draven; any attempt to regain that connection would be futile. It was a situation beyond his control, and there was no sense in dwelling on it. Instead, his focus was on the tasks at hand—continuing the plans the original Draven had set in motion, managing his responsibilities as a professor, and keeping everything in the capital in order.
He allowed himself a moment to reflect on the predicament. The real Draven had always been drawn to challenges—drawn to the most complex and dangerous paths, as if he craved the thrill of facing them head-on. And now, he found himself in a new world, dealing with who-knows-what dangers and unknowns. But this clone—this version of Draven—had his own tasks to focus on. The responsibilities that had been entrusted to him were not to be neglected. The real Draven would either prevail or not. Until then, the clone had work to do, and he intended to do it well.
Draven adjusted the cuffs of his coat, his mind switching back to the practicalities before him. He was still Draven, after all. Sharp, precise, effective. Nothing—not even the unknown fate of his original—would change that. Explore more adventures at novelbuddy.com
The day had barely begun, and Draven found himself standing at the entrance of the orphanage. His sharp gaze swept across the premises, assessing every detail, every potential point of weakness. The orphanage was more than just a place for children—it was a strategic base, a vital cog in the machine he had built to gather intelligence throughout the city. The children were the eyes and ears of the streets, and with Draven’s guidance, this orphanage had transformed into a covert operations base. He had provided them with shelter, food, and a sense of purpose—and in return, they provided him with information.
He walked slowly around the building, inspecting its defenses. Gold-armored skeletons stood at the front and back doors—silent, ever-watchful guardians that responded only to his commands. They were enchanted with powerful spells, their loyalty unwavering, their purpose singular: protect the orphanage at all costs. Draven glanced upward, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the five hidden gargoyles perched on the roof. They were motionless, blending seamlessly into the architecture, their forms indistinguishable from the rest of the building. But they were not mere decorations; they were sentinels, ready to spring to life at the slightest hint of danger.
Draven’s gaze shifted to the backyard, where a seemingly ordinary patch of earth lay undisturbed. Beneath it, however, was a bone golem—a formidable creature, a last line of defense in case the orphanage came under serious threat. It was a precaution, one that Draven had deemed necessary given the precariousness of their position in the slums. The slums were filled with opportunists, and it was only a matter of time before someone took an interest in the children or the information they held.
Satisfied with his inspection, Draven turned and made his way back inside the orphanage. The halls were quiet, the children busy with their daily routines. He watched as they went about their day, some of them cleaning, others practicing simple spells under the guidance of one of the older children. There was a sense of purpose in their actions, a focus that Draven found gratifying. These children were not just survivors—they were becoming assets.
He paused by a doorway, watching as a group of older children practiced their skills. They were sparring, their movements clumsy but filled with determination. Draven’s eyes narrowed as he observed them. These children had potential—great potential. Some of them could become powerful magicians, others skilled knights. But their talents were going unpolished, their skills lacking the refinement that only proper training could provide.
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It was why he needed more people—capable individuals who could take on the role of teaching these children, honing their abilities, preparing them for the world beyond the orphanage. He had already approached Amberine and Maris about finding suitable candidates, but he knew that the final decision would rest with him. The children needed mentors who could not only teach them but inspire them, push them to become formidable individuals. Their loyalty was crucial, but so was their strength.
Draven’s thoughts drifted to the future of these children. Once they grew older, many of them would be recruited into
Liora’s
merchant firm. Liora, known as
The Silent Merchant
, had been working with Draven for a long time. Her merchant operations were the perfect cover for gathering and disseminating information, and the children would find a secure future within her organization. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement—one that ensured the orphanage’s continued survival and the expansion of Draven’s information network.
A tinge of regret flickered through Draven as he watched the children spar. He could see the fire in their eyes, the desire to prove themselves, to be more than just street urchins. Many of them had the potential to become something great, but the world they lived in was unforgiving. Without the proper guidance, their talents would wither away, wasted on mere survival. Draven could not allow that to happen. These children were his responsibility, and he intended to see them flourish—not just for his own purposes, but for their sake as well.
He moved through the orphanage, inspecting the various defenses in place. He paused by the gold-armored skeletons, their hollow eye sockets staring ahead, their weapons at the ready. He checked their enchantments, ensuring that they were still functioning perfectly. These skeletons were more than just guards—they were a symbol of the orphanage’s protection, a reminder to anyone who might wish harm upon the children that they were not defenseless.
Draven climbed the narrow staircase to the roof, his eyes scanning the five hidden gargoyles. They remained motionless, their stone forms blending into the architecture, their presence undetectable to anyone who did not know where to look. They were not only a defense mechanism but also served as sentinels, watching for any unusual activity in the vicinity of the orphanage. Draven nodded to himself, satisfied that they were in place, their enchantments intact.
He made his way to the backyard, his gaze falling on the patch of earth beneath which the bone golem lay dormant. It was a powerful creature, a last resort—a weapon that could easily turn the tide in a desperate situation. Draven knelt, pressing his hand to the ground, feeling the faint hum of the magic that bound the golem. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the connection, ensuring that the golem was ready to respond if needed. It was.
Rising to his feet, Draven dusted off his hands and turned back to the orphanage. It was well-protected. He had ensured that every possible precaution had been taken. The children were safe, and his information network was secure. For now, at least.
As he walked through the orphanage, Draven’s thoughts turned to his recent conversation with Amberine and Maris. He needed capable individuals to take up teaching roles at the orphanage—people who could teach magic, combat, and critical thinking. The children needed more than just protection; they needed to be armed with knowledge and skills that would make them valuable assets. He hoped that Amberine and Maris would be able to assist in finding suitable candidates, but he knew that ultimately, the decision would rest with him. These children had potential, and he would not allow it to go to waste.
Draven paused by a window, looking out at the children as they continued their activities in the yard. They laughed, their voices carrying through the air, their faces filled with determination as they practiced their spells and sparring. He watched them for a long moment, his expression unreadable. They were his responsibility, and he intended to see them grow into formidable individuals—not just for his own purposes, but for their sake as well.
He turned away from the window, moving to a quieter part of the orphanage. He sat down on a simple but comfortable chair, reaching into his coat to pull out a book. It was a novel—one that the original Draven had enjoyed, a story that had captivated him in the past. The clone found himself intrigued by it, the words drawing him in as he flipped through the pages.
Halfway through the book, he came across something unexpected—a picture, tucked between the pages. It was old, faded, the edges worn from years of handling. Draven lifted it, his eyes narrowing as he examined it. The photograph was of a young boy—the original Draven. Next to it was another picture, this one of twin girls—Draven’s sisters. Their faces were bright with laughter, their eyes filled with a joy that seemed almost foreign to him now.
Draven stared at the pictures for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He had no memory of these moments—no connection to the emotions they represented. But he understood their significance. These were loose ends—memories and relationships that the original Draven had left behind, ties that could become vulnerabilities if left unchecked.
He murmured quietly to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "It’s time to face this." He slipped the pictures back into the book, closing it with a sense of finality. He could not ignore these remnants of the past, not if he wanted to ensure that they did not become a weakness—not for him, not for the children, not for the mission he had dedicated himself to.
Draven rose from the chair, his expression hardening, a sense of resolve settling over him. He had work to do—loose ends to tie up, plans to execute, children to protect. He moved through the orphanage, his footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway, his mind already turning to the tasks ahead.
The symposium was approaching, and there were still preparations to be made. The children needed training, and he needed to ensure not just their potential but their safety as well.
Then he thought drifted to the group, part of the main villains of the game that he knows.
The Devil Coffin.
"I guess it’s time to start preparing the next phase,"
