The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The clones were not mere copies. They weren't some mindless replicas that required constant direction. No, [Perfect Clones] created four beings that were, in every sense, me. They shared my thoughts, my instincts, and my abilities. They weren't puppets; they were separate entities with the same potential as me, but the key difference was that they operated independently.

They could think as I did, act as I would, and more importantly, they could make their own decisions without any input from me. It was as if I had multiplied my mind, my skill set, and my presence across multiple places at once.

And yet, the connection remained. Each clone, though independent, was linked to me on a deeper, almost metaphysical level. Information flowed between us in real-time. Whatever they saw, whatever they experienced, I knew as well. If one of them discovered something, it was as if I had discovered it. If they had a breakthrough, their knowledge, their increase in power, was transferred to me instantly.

This was what made the ability so perfect. It was not just about being in five places at once—it was about five brains working in unison, tackling different problems, strategizing, gathering information, and executing plans all at the same time. Each clone had my weapons, my pens—the Fire Pen, Water Pen, Devil Pen, and the Psychokinesis Pen. These were not mere illusions or weak imitations.

No, each clone wielded the same artifacts with the same deadly precision as I did. The battlefield, the negotiations, the explorations—all could be handled simultaneously with this skill.

Elandris had once spoken about attempting to replicate something similar with her magic, but she hadn't succeeded. Not yet. She was brilliant in her own right, capable of magic that far exceeded most mages, but [Perfect Clones] was a skill that transcended traditional magic. It was a mastery of the self, a deeper understanding of one's own mind and soul.

Elandris was still bound by the limitations of her elven magic, but I… I had surpassed those boundaries. It wasn't just about creating clones; it was about creating true extensions of myself, complete with my intelligence, my cunning, and my drive.

With this ability, I was five Dravens, each capable of thinking, acting, and fighting like the original. Each could take on complex tasks without needing me to guide them every step of the way. It was freedom, in a sense. Freedom to be everywhere, to control every situation with perfect precision. The battlefield, politics, espionage—it all became a canvas for me to paint my strategies on.

The power surge from acquiring the skill had filled my veins, and the clones were ready. They didn't need a command. They understood exactly what needed to be done. It was instinctive, as natural as breathing.

Without a word, two of them broke away from me. The clone dressed in my professor's robes moved swiftly, heading out of the chamber to regroup with the Drakhan Knights. He knew exactly what he needed to do. The Drakhan Knights must be worried about me together with Alfred and Garren that are leading them, and now my clones are going there and they would be prepared for what was coming next.

At his side, the second clone—garbed in the assassin attire I had once worn—moved with him, his steps lighter, more deliberate. They would be a team, gathering intelligence, blending into the shadows, and continuing their work as part of the Shadowbound.
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They would be off to join Sylara and the others. My adventurer persona, Dravis Granger, would continue to exist through them, ensuring that every angle was covered. The world had to believe that Dravis was still operating, still an unknown variable.

The remaining two clones stayed with me. We had other matters to attend to, matters that required my personal touch. As the others moved out of sight, I flicked my hand, activating a mechanism hidden beneath the floor. A section of stone shifted, revealing a complex array of runes and machinery—the dungeon core.

The dungeon core was the heart of this place, the very engine that had fueled the transformation of the Magic Tower University into the twisted dungeon it had become. Its power was immense, but it was also delicate, intricate in ways that most mages couldn't even begin to fathom.

It was more than just a source of mana—it was a nexus, a point where different forces converged, allowing for the manipulation of reality within the dungeon's confines.

I gazed at it, my mind already working through the possibilities. There was much to be learned here, much to be understood. The core wasn't just a tool of destruction—it was something far greater. And with my [Comprehension] skill, I would unlock every secret it held.

As I began to study the core, I let my magic flow through it, connecting with the intricate weave of spells and mana that held it together. My mind raced as I absorbed the patterns, the layers upon layers of magic that had been used to construct it. This was not simple magic. It was ancient, powerful, and beyond the scope of traditional arcane understanding.

The core operated on a system of absorption and amplification. It drew in ambient mana from the environment, but it didn't just store it—it processed it, refined it, and redistributed it in specific ways. The core could alter reality within its designated space, creating traps, warping time, and twisting the very fabric of the dungeon itself.

It was a tool of both creation and destruction, capable of shaping the world around it according to the will of its master.

But it wasn't perfect. There were limits, weaknesses that could be exploited if one knew where to look. I could see how the core struggled to maintain balance, how the constant influx of dark mana had caused it to overheat, to malfunction. That was what had triggered the dungeonification process in the first place. The core had been overwhelmed by the chaotic energy it had been forced to handle.

With the right knowledge, however, those flaws could be corrected. The core could be stabilized, its power harnessed, controlled. And more importantly, it could be repurposed. It didn't have to be a tool for corruption. With the right adjustments, I could turn it into something else entirely.

My mind raced with the possibilities. The core could be used to create a new source of power for the Magic Tower University, a stabilizing force that would prevent future dungeonifications. But there was more. I could integrate it into my own arsenal, use it to amplify my abilities, to enhance the power of my pens, to create a permanent stronghold that could manipulate time and space itself.

The idea was thrilling, dangerous, but utterly tantalizing. The core was like a blank slate, waiting to be written upon. All I needed was to bend it to my will.

I let out a slow breath, the pieces falling into place in my mind. I could see it now, the path forward. The core would be mine, its power an extension of my own. And with it, I would take the next step toward the future I was building—a future where I controlled the battlefield, the politics, and the magic of this world.

I smiled, a cold, calculating smile. This was perfect. The dungeon core, once a tool of chaos, would become one of my greatest weapon.

All that was left was to claim it.

With a flick of my hand, I activated the final sequence in the core's programming. The runes flared to life, the magic shifting, bending to my will. The core was mine now, and with it, the power to reshape this place, to reshape anything I desired.

I watched as the core pulsed with energy, a soft hum filling the chamber. It was done. I could use this to make my own fortress, strengthen my place.

And when the time came, when the forces of chaos descended upon us, I would be ready.

I smiled again, satisfied.

This was only the beginning.