The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Chapter 157: Dungeon Magic Tower (4) Tell Me Your Name

The student blinked, her breaths shallow and uneven. She sat up slowly, wincing as she pressed a hand to her forehead. "Ramia," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft crackling of lingering embers in the hallway. "My name is Ramia."

Elara stepped forward, her cold gaze never leaving Ramia's face. "You were involved in the ritual," she said bluntly, her voice emotionless. "Tell us everything."

Ramia's hands shook as she held herself, curling into a protective ball. "I... I didn't mean for this to happen," she stammered, her voice filled with guilt and fear. "I... I was recruited by a group called 'The Circle.' They promised me power, money—things I couldn't refuse."

Amberine's jaw clenched. The desperation in Ramia's voice struck a chord, but the anger bubbling up inside her wouldn't allow for sympathy just yet. "The Circle?" she pressed. "Who are they? Professors? Students?"

Ramia shook her head frantically. "I don't know. They always met in secret. We wore cloaks, kept our identities hidden. I never saw anyone's face. They talked about summoning something...

'The Great One.' They said it would grant us all unimaginable power." Her voice wavered, as if even now, part of her believed in the promise. "I just... I just wanted to get out. My family's poor. I thought… maybe this would be my way out."

Maris, who had been standing quietly in the corner, stiffened at Ramia's words. Amberine noticed the change in her posture, the way her hands tightened into fists at her sides. She knew that look. Maris had never talked much about her past, but Amberine had heard the stories—the crime organization 'Deadly Hollows' had killed Maris's parents when they acted in search of a certain artifact.

Maris would have lived in fear and poverty if it wasn't for Professor Draven who rescued her from that life.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of Ramia's confession settling like a heavy fog. Maris's eyes were fixed on the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line as she silently absorbed Ramia's story.

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Amberine felt the pressure in her chest building, the urge to scream at Ramia, to berate her for her stupidity, clawing at her throat. She took a step forward, but Ifrit's heat flared against her chest, grounding her.

"Don't," he muttered, his voice a low rumble. "You'll regret it."

Amberine stopped, breathing hard through her nose, trying to rein in the torrent of emotions swirling inside her. "You're an idiot," she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "You could've gotten us all killed. Do you even understand what you've done?"

Ramia flinched at the venom in Amberine's words, her eyes wide with fear and guilt. Tears welled up in her eyes, but Amberine didn't care. "You risked everything—everyone—for a chance at power? You're just as bad as the monsters you summoned."

"Amberine," Ifrit growled in warning, his warmth rising in intensity, but she ignored him, her anger too potent to be silenced now.

Ramia's breath hitched, her body trembling as she held herself tighter, but she didn't say anything in her defense. She didn't even try. Amberine was about to launch into another tirade when Elara's cold voice sliced through the tension.

"Enough," Elara said, her tone icy and sharp. Her eyes were locked on Ramia, but the disgust in her voice wasn't subtle. "She's not worth it."

Amberine turned to Elara, her chest heaving with fury. "Not worth it? This is her fault! She almost got us all killed because she couldn't say no to a bit of money!"

Elara's eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Yes. And killing her, or screaming at her, won't change that. It won't fix what's happening to this tower." Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—a cold, indifferent cruelty that made Amberine's skin crawl. "Focus on the bigger picture. Or are you too blinded by your emotions again?"

Amberine's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "You think you're so superior," she muttered, her voice low. "So detached. Like you're above all of this."

"I am detached," Elara replied coolly, her eyes flicking toward Ramia, who was sobbing quietly into her hands. "And that's why I'm still thinking clearly."

The room fell silent again, the weight of Elara's words hanging in the air. Amberine wanted to scream, to throw something, to make Elara feel the same fury and helplessness that was clawing at her chest. But Ifrit's warmth grounded her again, a reminder to keep control.

Maris, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke up. "We're wasting time." Her voice was soft, but there was a steely determination beneath the calmness. "We need to figure out our next move. Ramia might've screwed up, but we can't just stand here arguing."

Amberine took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She turned to Maris, grateful for her level-headedness, even though her heart still thudded with anger. "What do you think we should do?"

Maris glanced between them, her eyes thoughtful. "We need to find a way to stop the dungeonification of the tower, but we don't know enough about the ritual or the magic circle they used. If we try to mess with it, we could make things worse."

Elara nodded, her arms crossed. "We're dealing with unstable demonic magic. If we disrupt the wrong part of the ritual, we could trigger a collapse—or worse, unleash more creatures."

"So, what's the alternative?" Amberine asked, still feeling the heat of her anger simmering beneath the surface.

"We need to find a place to set up a basecamp," Maris suggested, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Somewhere we can defend ourselves while we figure out our next steps. We don't know how many more monsters will spawn, and we need supplies—food, water, weapons. If we can find a defensible spot, we can plan our next move from there."

Amberine frowned, her mind racing with possibilities. A basecamp? It wasn't a bad idea, but how could they be sure they'd find a place safe enough to hold off whatever was lurking in the tower?

"What about contacting the professors?" she asked. "Someone has to know what's going on. If we can get a message out, maybe Draven or someone from the higher-ups can help us."

Maris's face darkened at the mention of Professor Draven, a flicker of something unreadable passing over her features before she nodded. "If we can find a way to contact him, that would be ideal. But with the tower's magic fluctuating like this, we might not be able to get a message out."

Elara's voice cut through the air, cold and matter-of-fact. "Even if we did contact the Professor, there's no guarantee he'd get here in time. We need to prioritize our own survival for now. A defensible basecamp is our best option."

Amberine's jaw tightened. She hated that Elara was right, but the reality of their situation was sinking in. The tower was warping around them, and they had no idea how much time they had before something worse showed up.

"We need to move soon," Amberine said, her voice low. "The longer we stay in one place, the more likely something else is going to find us."

"Agreed," Elara replied, her tone clipped. "We'll need to secure food and water as well. We can't afford to be caught unprepared."

Amberine's mind flashed back to Draven's lectures—his cold, efficient explanations of survival in the face of magical threats. He always spoke with such detached calmness, like the dangers of the world were just puzzles to be solved. "Focus on what you can control. Everything else is just noise," he would say, his eyes flicking over his students as if challenging them to prove him wrong.

Amberine had hated that about him. His lack of emotion, his clinical approach to life. But now, standing in the middle of a twisted, corrupted tower filled with monsters, she couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for his methods.

"We can't risk wandering aimlessly," Amberine said, her voice steadier now. "We need to find a place we can defend, and we need to get supplies. If we don't, we're going to be sitting ducks when the next wave of monsters hits."

Maris nodded. "Agreed. But where do we start?"

Elara's gaze was sharp as she considered their options. "There's a storage room two floors down that should still be intact. It's heavily warded—used for storing magical artifacts. If the wards are still holding, it could serve as a temporary base. We can gather supplies along the way."