The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"Not bad," I remarked quietly, my voice echoing in the chamber. Even through the swirling gloom of undeath, I sensed the Goblin King's acknowledgment. He gave a curt inclination of his head, an unspoken agreement that this battle was worth his full attention. There was no mindless flailing here—he was responding to my moves, taking advantage of his size and speed, while I adapted to his monstrous power and cunning.

The Goblin King shifted his stance, slamming the greatsword's tip into the floor with a jarring clang. Sparks flickered as runes flared along the blade, and I felt the surge of necromantic energy. It was as if the chamber itself responded, a faint tremor running through the stones beneath our feet. He wrenched the sword free again in one smooth motion, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the floor. Then he lunged, this time with a horizontal slash aimed at my midsection.

I dropped low, pressing my palm to the stone to steady myself as the blade whooshed overhead, stirring the stale air into a sudden gust. The moment that monstrous blade passed, I sprang up, dagger drawn in a tight reverse grip. My eyes locked on the Goblin King's exposed flank, scanning quickly for a weakness in his armor.

He recovered from the slash with startling agility for something so large, yanking the greatsword back into a guard position. He was learning, even in the midst of this flashback duel. Gone was the reckless overextension he had displayed in the initial moments. Now, he maintained a narrower stance, keeping his center of gravity lower. Clearly, I had underestimated how swiftly he could adapt. Explore more at My Virtual Library Empire

I decided to test his defenses. Darting forward, I feinted a thrust at his abdomen. True to my guess, he read the motion and angled his blade in a downward parry. But my dagger was already on a different path. I twisted my wrist, reversing the direction of the feint, and struck for the joint at his knee.

A lesser being, relying purely on muscle memory, would have failed to respond in time. But the Goblin King jerked his leg backward, turning a direct stab into a glancing blow across the side of his greave. Sparks flew as my dagger scraped across the dark metal, the runes etched on the armor crackling with undead power.

Undeterred, I pressed the attack. I pivoted around his flank, forcing him to keep shifting to track my movements. My plan was to wear him down by making him move that massive weapon again and again—large swords were devastating, but they could become a liability in prolonged engagements if the wielder couldn't capitalize on each swing.

He roared, hefting the sword in both hands for a diagonal strike aimed at my shoulder. Rather than dodge away, I slid under the arc of the blade, letting it pass overhead. My hair stirred from the sheer force of that near miss. Immediately, I slashed at the underside of his arm, hoping to sever tendons or damage the runic patterns that held his undead form together.

The Goblin King managed to contort his torso, bringing a chunk of battered plate into the path of my dagger. My strike sent a jolt through my wrist as steel met blackened metal. In response, he twisted around, using the massive pommel of his sword like a battering ram. I barely had time to raise my forearm in a desperate block.

The impact slammed me backward, my boots skidding across the stone floor. A flare of pain radiated along my arm, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. Far from discouraging me, the blow reignited my determination. "Well done," I said under my breath, feeling a trickle of blood slide down from a minor cut above my eyebrow. The Goblin King—though his undead face remained impassive—seemed to revel in the fury of the fight.

The next exchange began with a faint clang as I flicked my dagger against the flat of his blade, an attempt to draw his guard wide. He snarled and lunged, but I danced away, each step carrying me just out of reach. I circled him, footsteps echoing eerily in the expansive hall. My gaze flickered to the cracks in the floor, the scorch marks left by necrotic energy, the faint flicker of torches whose flames seemed subdued in the presence of such dark power.

This had become a test not just of brute force, but of cunning. He wanted to corner me, use that monstrous sword to trap me against the walls, or better yet, crush me with a single decisive blow. I, on the other hand, needed to keep him constantly adjusting, to ensure he could never align the full might of his strength. Every step I took was carefully calibrated, luring him to swing and miss, to waste precious energy. Even the undead had limits, though different than those of the living.

He launched into another assault, a series of relentless slashes that thundered through the hall. Each swing cut the air with a blade-like hiss. Sparks erupted where steel struck stone, leaving deep gouges in the floor. I deflected what I could with my dagger, but more often I slipped just outside his range, forcing him to keep twisting to track me. At one point, I even planted a hand on the flat of his greatsword mid-swing to vault over it, landing lightly behind him, but he whirled around too quickly for me to exploit his back.

We continued our deadly dance, the echoes of combat rippling throughout the chamber. My heart drummed a quick rhythm, adrenaline surging with each near miss. Though I was not breathing heavily yet, I felt the heat of the battle thrumming along my nerves. This was precisely the thrill I sought: the refinement of skill under life-and-death conditions, the mesmerizing interplay of energy, steel, and will.

The Goblin King roared again, a sound that seemed to resonate in my bones. I caught a glimpse of seething necromantic power in his eyes, the runes flaring dangerously along his armor and sword. He raised his weapon overhead, preparing a blow that would surely splinter the earth beneath my feet if I stood still to receive it.

But I did not stand still.

As the colossal sword began its descent, I sidestepped, shifting my stance to slip around to his left. The edge of the blade struck the ground in a deafening crash, shards of stone flying in all directions. A burst of necrotic energy followed, jolting through the floor like a shockwave. I felt the force graze my legs, a chill so intense it was almost like being burned by ice. My coat flapped violently, and for an instant, the entire hall shook as though it might collapse.

I seized the moment of recoil. While the Goblin King's sword was embedded in the ground, I lunged forward. My dagger, wreathed in a faint aura of swirling dark mana, lashed out at the exposed seam in his armor near the waist. He grunted, yanking the sword free just in time to deflect the blow. Our blades clashed, ringing like a funeral knell in the subterranean space.

Despite his monstrous power, I sensed a crack in his confidence. He was beginning to understand that raw might alone wouldn't guarantee him victory. A new tension shone in those red-glowing eye sockets. I capitalized on that, pressing forward with a swift combination: a feint at his head, followed by a real strike aimed at his ribs. He blocked the first and nearly dodged the second, but my dagger still scraped across his side, eliciting another furious snarl.

"Give me everything you have," I challenged quietly, even as I leapt backward to reset the distance between us. My voice echoed, tinged with a cold, steely excitement. Long ago, I had faced legendary warriors who commanded armies, heroes whose names were etched in history. Yet here was an undead champion from a bygone era, and the sheer novelty of matching blades with him was exhilarating.

In response, the Goblin King's aura flared. He lifted his sword, gripping it in both hands. The runes glowed a hellish crimson, bathing the entire chamber in a macabre light. Tendrils of necrotic magic wrapped around his limbs, fueling him with unholy strength. He bellowed, and the sound was like the roar of a beast unleashed from a thousand-year slumber.

That aura crackled in the air, and I felt a strange pressure on my chest, as if invisible hands were pushing me back. Dust and debris swirled around us, forming a vortex of decaying energy. The temperature in the room seemed to drop even further, the edges of my vision darkening for a heartbeat. Beneath my feet, the stone floor groaned, fracturing further under the strain of the Goblin King's rising power.

"Now we're getting somewhere,"