The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 606: The Pursuit Through Vault Enoch

"Then we fight," I snapped, cold and decisive. My fingers danced rapidly through the air, weaving intricate illusionary patterns. Immediately, mirrored versions of us surged outward in all directions, scattering convincingly down adjacent corridors. The confusion would buy mere seconds, but in situations like these, seconds could define survival.

We moved as one, sprinting out of Vault Enoch. Each corridor felt narrower, darker, more oppressive, as if the fortress itself had turned hostile. Footsteps echoed behind us—boots pounding on polished stone floors with rhythmic precision, the unmistakable cadence of trained enforcers in pursuit.

I flicked a quick glance over my shoulder, analyzing the approaching enforcers. Their movements were crisp, disciplined, a perfect reflection of the Council's rigid order. Behind them, arcane constructs formed rapidly, shimmering into existence with bursts of concentrated mana. Their eyes glowed fiercely, crackling with deadly energy as they surged after us, unhesitating in their pursuit.

"Left!" I barked, turning sharply down another narrow passageway, the artifact gripped tightly against my chest. Asterion followed smoothly, his eyes constantly flicking behind, assessing threats with each glance. The halls twisted and branched chaotically, becoming increasingly labyrinthine the deeper we delved. Every turn offered momentary respite, but the fortress's winding architecture was a weapon itself, designed explicitly to trap intruders within its maze-like corridors.

We burst into a broad corridor, only to find a trio of enforcers already blocking our path. They reacted instantly, swords and staves rising in seamless synchrony, magic flaring violently. I felt a surge of raw power snap toward us, flames roaring toward us in a lethal torrent. My mana surged in reflexive response, crafting an intricate barrier in an instant. The flames struck harmlessly against my shield, dispersing into harmless sparks, yet the momentary halt cost valuable momentum.

"Keep moving!" I snapped at Asterion, even as he deflected a bolt of destructive energy with a precise sweep of his blade.

He didn't waste time replying, pivoting instead into a low, sweeping kick that caught one enforcer squarely in the knee, dropping him instantly. Another lunged forward, blade slashing toward my chest with lethal intent. I twisted sharply sideways, narrowly avoiding the strike as I channeled leyline energy directly through my palm, sending a concentrated burst of force that hurled the attacker backwards into the far wall, knocking him unconscious instantly.

We surged onward without pausing, urgency spurring our movements. Each corridor felt narrower, each hallway more constrictive than the last, as though the fortress itself sought to ensnare us within its depths. My mana strained constantly, weaving illusions so convincingly that even the fortress's advanced security measures hesitated briefly, uncertain which path was true.

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"Next corridor, the hidden passage," I said sharply, referencing the route I'd memorized earlier. "It's our best chance."

"Hope your memory's sharp," Asterion muttered breathlessly, barely ducking another magical strike that shattered stone behind him. "Because I doubt we'll get another."

"Trust me," I responded tersely. Confidence wasn't arrogance—it was precision, necessity. If I faltered even slightly, all was lost.

We reached the corridor junction swiftly, and I pressed against the wall, fingertips swiftly tracing nearly invisible runes etched subtly into the stone. My mana pulsed carefully, aligning with the runes' resonance frequency. The wall shimmered faintly, dissolving into a hidden passage that stretched into shadowed uncertainty.

"Inside," I ordered sharply.

Asterion didn't hesitate, slipping into the darkened passageway. I followed swiftly, sealing the hidden door just as enforcers raced past, their hurried footfalls echoing off the passage's entrance. We stood silent, breathing shallowly, listening carefully until the footsteps faded into distance, replaced by muted, angry curses as they realized they'd lost our immediate trail.

"Close call," Asterion muttered, wiping sweat from his brow, though his stance remained vigilant. His eyes flicked warily toward me, noting the subtle exhaustion etched into my features. "How much further?"

"Not far," I replied evenly, analyzing the tunnel. It stretched darkly ahead, illuminated faintly by the eerie blue glow of leyline energy coursing visibly through hidden conduits embedded in the walls. "We need to move."

He nodded sharply, stepping into pace beside me as we navigated the hidden passageway. Silence hung thickly between us, punctuated only by the soft rustle of our clothing and the occasional distant hum of alarm systems still pulsing faintly through the fortress's heart.

Suddenly, the air shifted dramatically, an ominous tension crackling through the narrow corridor. Ahead, shadows stirred faintly, and my instincts screamed warning moments before the figure stepped calmly from the darkness—Lord Arctanis himself, flanked by two elite guards whose armor glowed subtly with protective enchantments. My heart spiked briefly, though my expression remained composed, controlled. The situation had escalated drastically.

"Draven," Arctanis spoke calmly, his voice smooth yet edged with unmistakable threat. "I wondered when you'd come knocking."

"You're remarkably composed for someone losing their prized artifact," I countered icily, analyzing rapidly. The hidden passage behind us was sealed—forward was our only viable direction, straight through the heart of danger.

He smiled coldly, utterly confident. "Artifacts can be replaced. Talent like yours cannot. The Council recognizes true potential when we see it."

His words dripped with quiet arrogance, superiority evident in every carefully chosen syllable. This was not mere arrogance—this was calculated manipulation. He believed I could still be persuaded, tempted by promises of power and recognition.

"Is that supposed to tempt me?" I replied evenly, coldly amused. "Artifacts like these should never have existed. Neither should the twisted ambitions behind them."

A faint smile played across his lips, chilling in its certainty. "Power is never evil, Draven. Only its misuse. You know that better than most. Imagine what you could accomplish aligned with us, fully empowered, unconstrained by petty moralities."

My gaze hardened further, sharp enough to pierce stone. "Power without purpose is madness. You'd tear the world apart just to prove you could."

"Sometimes, chaos is the price of progress," Arctanis retorted smoothly, spreading his hands in a gesture meant to appear diplomatic. "You're more valuable alive, Draven. Join us. Your brilliance deserves to shape history, not waste itself fighting hopeless battles."

For an instant, I genuinely felt the pull of his words—the subtle allure of having unlimited resources, the intoxicating freedom of unchecked experimentation. Yet that temptation lasted merely a heartbeat before my resolve solidified. I knew too well what lay beneath the Council's promises: betrayal, devastation, death.

"I've seen your kind of 'progress,' Arctanis," I said, voice dripping with quiet contempt. "I'll never be part of it."

His expression darkened immediately, the polite facade shattering like brittle glass. "Then you've chosen death, Draven."

"So you keep saying," I replied, my own stance tightening, my mana surging defiantly. "Yet I'm still here."

With barely perceptible motion, Arctanis signaled his guards forward. They surged instantly, movements synchronized, blades drawn in lethal arcs. Asterion sprang forward without hesitation, blade raised defensively, eyes narrowed sharply with deadly intent.

Combat erupted instantly, fierce and brutal. Arctanis unleashed powerful, precision-targeted spells, each strike infused with lethal intent. My mana surged sharply, countering his attacks, redirecting leyline energy expertly to create chaotic disruptions in the fortress's structural enchantments.

The corridor trembled violently, stones cracking and fissuring as mana surged uncontrollably through compromised wards. Cracks spiderwebbed along walls, dust raining downward in choking cascades. Asterion battled fiercely against Arctanis's elite guards, each blow precise, each parry a testament to years of hard-earned skill. His blade flashed mercilessly, movements efficient, lethal.

Arctanis's magic intensified, spells crackling with deadly potency, testing my skill, reflexes, and mana endurance to their absolute limits. My body moved fluidly, driven purely by disciplined instinct honed over years of relentless practice. Each spell I cast was deliberate, exact, weaving defensive barriers and destructive counterattacks in seamless tandem.

"Impressive as always," Arctanis sneered, eyes glinting cruelly. "But you're only delaying the inevitable."

"You underestimate me," I replied coldly, subtly redirecting leyline energy again. The corridor trembled more violently, stone cracking audibly, dust raining from the ceiling. "As always."

Arctanis's expression hardened, but a flicker of uncertainty showed briefly in his eyes. He knew precisely how dangerous destabilizing the fortress could be. Yet arrogance compelled him forward anyway, refusing to yield, unwilling to accept that his victory wasn't guaranteed.

"Enough!" he snapped harshly, magic swelling around him dangerously, a desperate final strike meant to annihilate.

I anticipated him perfectly. The instant he unleashed his attack, I released my own counterspell—a powerful pulse of leyline energy precisely calculated to disrupt his magic. His spell collided with mine in midair, a violent explosion of raw arcane power flinging debris in every direction, nearly knocking us all off balance.

The fortress walls groaned alarmingly, cracks spreading rapidly along stone and mortar. Arctanis stumbled backward, momentarily stunned. Seizing the opportunity, I channeled another powerful pulse, collapsing the corridor directly behind him. A deafening roar of collapsing stone filled the passage, burying his enraged shouts beneath tons of rubble.

"Move!" I barked urgently to Asterion.

We bolted, racing through rapidly deteriorating corridors. I directed us swiftly toward the emergency exit I'd mapped earlier, relying purely on memory and instinct. The passage trembled violently, threatening collapse at any instant, yet we pressed forward relentlessly.

Seconds felt eternal, adrenaline flooding every fiber of my being, each breath sharp, controlled. Finally, we burst through the concealed exit, tumbling roughly onto a distant, windswept shore. Cool night air filled our lungs, sharp with salt and freedom, starkly contrasting the claustrophobic intensity we'd just escaped.

We lay there for long moments, gasping, recovering. Asterion rose slowly, brushing sand from his clothes, expression grim yet resolute. "The Council won't let this go," he said finally, voice quiet, heavy with grim certainty. "They'll hunt us relentlessly."

My eyes narrowed, mind already calculating countless strategies, allies we could rally, knowledge we could leverage. The artifact glowed softly in my grip, its revelations dangerously valuable.

"Let them try," I replied coldly, determination sharpening my voice to steel. "We have what they fear most—the truth."

He nodded grimly, expression resolute, understanding precisely the magnitude of our discovery. We stood silent a moment longer, the sea breeze chilling against sweat-dampened skin. Finally, I spoke, voice steely, calm, resolute:

"Then we'll make sure we're ready."