The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 471: The Secret Chamber (4) The Practice

"Efficient," I remarked, my voice cutting through the hum of shifting stone and marching feet. My words were not praise, but observation—a simple acknowledgment of their execution.

The Goblin King stepped forward, its towering presence casting a long shadow across the ranks. It raised its rune-etched great sword high, the blade catching the ambient glow of the chamber. With a guttural command, it directed the knights forward. The dozen armored figures advanced, their long spears gleaming with a spectral energy that seemed to hum with restrained violence. The mage variant followed suit, its shadowy frame surrounded by a swarm of summoned creatures. The bats and crows swirled around it like a living storm, their cries echoing faintly in the cavernous space.

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"Good," I murmured, my eyes narrowing as I took in the unfolding formations. "But this is only the beginning."

"Defensive formation," I commanded, my voice sharp and unyielding.

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The shield-bearers moved to the front with a calculated precision, their reinforced shields locking together in an unbroken wall of iron that exuded a sense of immovable strength. Each shield bore intricate etchings of necrotic runes, faintly pulsating as if alive, radiating a subtle glow that infused the formation with an aura of menace. Behind this impenetrable barrier, the archers seamlessly fell into position, phantom arrows already notched into spectral bows summoned by the liches’ command. The movements of these skeletal archers were eerily fluid, their hollow sockets glowing faintly as they adjusted their aim with unsettling accuracy.

Meanwhile, the scouts darted into side tunnels, their silhouettes a blur of motion as they vanished into the shadows. Their lighter armor allowed for unparalleled agility, their forms bending and twisting to navigate the narrow, treacherous pathways with the grace of wraiths. Each step was silent, their feet seeming to glide over the uneven ground. They spread out, taking positions that would enable swift and devastating flanking maneuvers. It was a choreographed dance of efficiency and purpose, a testament to the synchronization that my undead forces had achieved through meticulous refinement.

I observed the unfolding formation, my gaze sharp and calculating. "Good," I murmured, my voice cutting through the ambient hum of necromantic energy. "The shield wall holds steady. Archers, maintain readiness. Scouts, confirm positions."

The liches responded without hesitation, their bony hands moving in smooth arcs as they directed their summoned forces. From my vantage point, I could feel the undercurrent of their magical control weaving through the air—a testament to their ability to command with both finesse and authority. This wasn’t just an assembly of the undead; it was a machine, honed to operate with precision and efficiency. Each unit complemented the other, forming an ecosystem of destruction waiting for the right command to strike.

"Liches," I said, turning toward them. "Test their resolve."

The skeletal mages raised their staffs, their bony fingers moving in intricate patterns as spheres of glowing energy formed above them. The air vibrated with tension as the necromantic energy coalesced, casting an eerie glow throughout the chamber. A barrage of magical projectiles hurtled toward the shield wall, each one crackling with destructive force, trailing faint arcs of dark energy as they streaked through the air. The goblin skeletons held firm, their shields rising in perfect synchronization. Each necrotic barrier absorbed the brunt of the assault, the glowing runes etched into their armor flaring brightly with every impact, dissipating the destructive force like ripples on water.

When a projectile struck particularly hard, the skeleton holding the shield faltered momentarily, its frame rattling from the blow. But almost instantly, another stepped forward to reinforce the gap, its movements fluid and calculated, as if guided by an unseen intelligence. The shield wall reformed seamlessly, unyielding in its defense. Some projectiles ricocheted off their dark armor, careening into the walls with deafening crashes, while others were absorbed entirely, leaving faint trails of residual energy that dissipated into the ambient magic of the chamber.

"Hold," I commanded, my voice cutting through the cacophony with an edge of cold precision. The goblin skeletons obeyed without hesitation, their unwavering discipline a testament to the meticulous conditioning instilled in them. "Your resilience is commendable, but the test is not over. Brace yourselves."

The mages intensified their assault, the magical spheres growing larger and more complex, crackling with chaotic energy that threatened to overwhelm the defenders. Yet, the skeletal goblins stood resolute. Their shields, infused with necrotic magic, shimmered as they absorbed the relentless attacks, each blast testing the limits of their construction. When one shield cracked under the strain, it was immediately replaced by another, the transition seamless as if choreographed to perfection.

"Impressive," I murmured, my eyes narrowing as I observed their performance. The defense was holding, but I could see the strain beginning to show on some units. "Knights," I ordered, turning to the Goblin King, "reinforce the front line."

At my command, the Goblin King raised its massive great sword, the glowing runes along its blade igniting with an ominous brilliance. With a guttural growl, it directed its knights forward. The heavily armored undead warriors advanced, their towering forms interspersing themselves among the shield bearers. Their spears, etched with runes that pulsed with faint blue light, were raised defensively, ready to intercept any magical strikes that threatened to break through.

The added support turned the tide of the test. The shield wall, now bolstered by the imposing presence of the knights, became an impenetrable barrier. The magical projectiles exploded harmlessly against the combined defenses, their energy dissipating in flashes of light and shadow. The coordinated effort was a testament to the army’s discipline and the efficacy of the formations I had designed.

I allowed a rare smirk to cross my lips as I observed the scene. "Good," I said, my voice laced with satisfaction. "You are more capable than I anticipated. Continue to hold until instructed otherwise. This is only the beginning."

The scouts emerged from the shadows, striking the simulated attackers from the sides with ruthless efficiency. Their daggers flashed, and within moments, the assault was quelled. The shield-bearers advanced in perfect unison, their formation unbroken as they pressed forward.

Satisfied, I moved to the next scenario. "Offensive tactics."

Stone golems, summoned for the exercise, lumbered into the arena with a weighty grace, their massive forms towering like ancient sentinels carved from dense rock and imbued with shimmering defensive enchantments. Each step they took resonated through the chamber, an oppressive sound that seemed to challenge all who stood before them. I allowed a brief moment to pass, the stillness filled only by the ambient hum of arcane energy that clung to the air, before signaling the goblin skeletons to advance.

"Begin," I commanded, my voice cold and absolute. The goblin skeletons surged forward as one, their movements precise and unerring. Sword- and axe-wielding units led the charge, their weapons glinting with an ominous, malevolent light. The clang of enchanted blades against stone reverberated through the arena, each strike deliberate and calculated. The skeletons fought with the tenacity of soldiers hardened by countless battles, their shadow-forged weapons carving into the enchanted stone with ruthless efficiency.

The first wave struck the golems’ limbs, aiming to disrupt their balance. The scouts darted in and out of reach, exploiting the cumbersome movements of their towering adversaries. "Flank them," I ordered, watching as the lighter units peeled off, their swift and agile strikes targeting the weaker joints of the constructs. Meanwhile, shield-bearing units moved in tandem, creating a defensive barrier to absorb retaliatory blows from the golems’ heavy, stone fists.

The Goblin King joined the fray, its towering form a stark contrast to the nimble skeletons. Its great sword, pulsating with jagged, glowing runes, sliced through the air with a force that caused the chamber itself to tremble. With a single devastating swing, the King cleaved through a golem’s leg, shattering it into rubble. "Impressive," I murmured, my psychokinesis pen scratching notes onto the floating magical notebook as I observed the King’s commanding presence.

"Knights, reinforce!" My command was met with immediate action. The undead knights advanced in perfect unison, their long spears radiating faint arcs of necrotic energy. They struck with pinpoint precision, targeting the exposed cores of the golems, their blows driving cracks through the enchanted stone. The mage variant unleashed waves of shadowy energy, the swirling darkness wrapping around the golems and sapping their defenses, leaving them vulnerable to the relentless onslaught.

The air grew thick with dust and magic as the battle raged on. The clang of metal against stone was accompanied by the low, resonant growls of the Goblin King and the sharp cries of shadow bats summoned by the mage. My undead forces pushed forward relentlessly, their coordination seamless, their strikes devastating. Each shattered golem added to the symphony of destruction, their once-imposing forms reduced to lifeless rubble.

"Regroup," I called sharply, ending the exercise. At my command, the goblin skeletons withdrew with eerie precision, their ranks reforming in perfect order. The knights returned to their posts, their spears held high, while the mage variant dismissed its summoned creatures with a flick of its clawed hand.