The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The moment the decay demon's hand clamped down on my arm, it felt like I had been submerged in a vat of acid. A searing, sharp pain shot through my arm, radiating up to my shoulder, and my mind—without my consent—began dissecting the experience. I could feel the skin on my left hand, already tinged with a sickly gray, begin to crack and peel under the demon's touch. It wasn't like a normal burn, no.

This was different. The sensation wasn't immediate—it started subtly, almost like a dull throb in the bones, but it quickly spread outward, infecting every nerve with a pain that was unbearable yet strangely distant. It was as though my mind was watching my body fall apart, calculating every shift, every layer that decayed, almost fascinated by the destruction happening in real-time.

My flesh, my skin, my muscles—everything on my arm felt as if it were being consumed from the inside out. I could feel the rot creeping along the bones, crumbling them like brittle twigs under immense pressure. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop myself from analyzing the process.

My brain took each piece of the experience and mapped it out, understanding how fast the decay was moving, what parts of my body it would reach next, how long I had before it rendered me useless.

It wasn't just pain; it was a biological breakdown, a rapid deterioration that no living being should ever experience while conscious. Yet here I was, fully aware, and I hated that I couldn't turn off the part of my mind that cataloged every excruciating detail.

As the decay worked its way through my arm, I felt the tendons shrivel and the muscle fibers unravel, but my face remained blank, expressionless. No one would see the pain on my face. Even now, I could feel the calculations ticking in the background, measuring how much longer I had before my arm was beyond repair. Despite the agony, my face never betrayed me; I couldn't afford it.

The demon couldn't know the damage it was causing, and neither could my allies. I needed to think, to plan—emotion had no place here.

"Lyan!" I called, my voice sharp and clear, cutting through the chaos around me. I didn't have to say more. Lyan was already moving, his eyes flicking toward the demon as he began weaving his illusions into reality.

In a heartbeat, a massive shadow creature took form, towering over the demon that held me. It wasn't designed to cause damage—Lyan knew better than that. No, this was pure distraction. The demon's head snapped upward, its attention momentarily diverted by the illusion. Its grip on my arm loosened, and that was all I needed.

Ignoring the pain—no, pushing it aside as I always did—I clutched my sword with my right hand, channeling dark magic into the blade. The energy coursed through my weapon, making it hum with a vicious, volatile power. The demon, still mesmerized by Lyan's shadow creature, didn't see me coming.

With a swift, precise movement, I swung the blade in an arc, slicing through the demon's arm with a single, clean cut. Its limb fell to the ground with a sickening thud, but I wasn't finished.

Before it could react, I pivoted, bringing my sword down again, this time severing one of its legs. The demon let out a guttural scream, a sound so primal and raw it vibrated through the air. But I didn't flinch. I was already stepping back, creating space, my mind clicking through the next steps as if this were nothing more than a game of chess.

The demon stumbled, crippled but still dangerous, its decayed eyes filled with rage as it struggled to maintain balance.

"Bastard," Aurelia's voice cut through the noise, filled with the usual irritation that bordered on fury. I glanced at her briefly. She was exhausted, blood dripping from her arm, her golden flames flickering weakly as she fended off the fire demon. She wasn't going to last much longer.

"Focus," I muttered to myself, feeling the decay still eating away at my left arm. It had slowed, but it wasn't enough. If I didn't stop it soon, I'd lose the arm entirely.

"Aurelia!" I shouted, watching as she barely dodged another strike from the fire demon. She looked over, her eyes filled with that fiery defiance she always carried, even when she was on the brink of collapse.

"Don't you dare die, bastard," she spat, summoning a torrent of flames that roared to life around her. The fire demon screeched as her flames wrapped around its body, burning it from the inside out. But I could see the strain on her face—the effort was draining her faster than she could handle. She was pushing herself too hard, and the flames were eating away at her energy.

And yet, her flames worked. The decay demon stumbled, weakened by the heat that now licked at its form. But my arm—it was still decaying, and I didn't have much time left.

Anastasia, focused on keeping the shadow demon at bay with her dark flames, caught sight of my condition. I didn't have to say anything—she knew. With a sharp motion, she shifted the direction of her flames, creating a cocoon of dark fire around me. The flames didn't burn. They wrapped around my body like a protective shield, halting the decay's advance, at least temporarily.

"Draven," Anastasia called, her voice steady despite the intensity of the battle. "I can reverse it. But you know the cost."

I shook my head. "We don't have time. Focus on the fight."

"But your arm—"

"I'll handle it." My voice was cold, unwavering. I had already calculated the risk. Anastasia's spell could reverse the damage, but it would leave us vulnerable, and we couldn't afford that. Not now.

The decay demon was regaining its strength, its eyes narrowing on me with murderous intent. It was time to finish this.

Even with my left arm barely functioning, I could still fight. My sword gleamed in my right hand, the dark magic crackling along its edge. My mind raced through the demon's movements, its patterns, its weaknesses. I had seen it before—the core, hidden deep within the rotting flesh. That was the target.

"Aurelia, keep it distracted," I ordered, my voice sharp and commanding.

She scoffed, though I could hear the exhaustion in her tone. "Yeah, because I wasn't doing that already, you bastard."

I ignored her sarcasm. With a swift motion, I darted toward the demon, my sword ready. Its decayed hand lashed out toward me, but I sidestepped easily, the pain in my arm barely registering now. My focus was absolute.

In one fluid motion, I brought my sword down, slicing through the demon's chest, aiming directly for the core. The blade struck true, sinking deep into the demon's flesh. For a moment, the demon froze, its eyes widening in shock. Then, with a final, ear-piercing screech, the creature collapsed, disintegrating into ash as my blade tore through its core.
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I stepped back, panting, but the relief was short-lived. There were still more demons, their twisted forms circling us like predators waiting for the kill.

"Draven," Aurelia called, her voice weaker now. "We're not done yet."

I nodded, my gaze shifting to the remaining enemies. There was no time to rest. The battle wasn't over.

But the decay demon was gone, and that was one less threat to worry about. Now, it was just the rest of them.

"We finish this," I muttered, gripping my sword tightly as I prepared for the next attack.

Aurelia and Anastasia moved to my side, their eyes filled with the same determination that burned in my own. We weren't out of this yet, but we would be. One way or another, we would win.

Because failure was not an option.

The worst scenario.

It would just be me dying.

It won't be a problem.