The Villain Professor's Second Chance
Chapter 48: Professor Draven's Test (4) The Students' Difficulties

She sighed, rubbing her temples. It was already midnight, and she had slept earlier, hoping to replace inspiration in her dreams. Yet here she was, no closer to solving the puzzle Professor Draven had set for her. The rest of the students had likely faced different, perhaps simpler, challenges. The thought gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Her door creaked open, and Elara looked up to see her father, Count Valen, entering the room. He carried a tray with food she had neglected to eat, his face lined with concern. He placed the tray on her empty desk beside her, glancing at the paper she was working on. His eyes narrowed as he read the elegant penmanship at the top left corner of the page: "Professor Draven's Supplementary Test."

Count Valen's face twisted into a grimace. "Elara, did you receive the same questions as the other students?" he asked, his voice heavy with suspicion. "I wouldn't be surprised if Draven singled you out to belittle you. He has never been fair, especially given our... history."

Elara's curiosity was piqued. She finally broke her silence, her voice soft but steady. "Father, what happened between you and Professor Draven?"

Count Valen's expression softened slightly, pleased to hear his daughter's voice. "It's a long and unpleasant story, Elara. Draven is a man with no heart, a false prodigy who despises the potential of others. He's a snake, a man who revels in undermining those who stand in his way."

Elara listened for a while, but as her father's tirade continued, she began to lose interest. His words seemed filled with personal grudges and irrelevant anecdotes. She interrupted him gently. "He doesn't seem like that to me. Professor Draven appears to be fair and impartial. He doesn't seem to resort to dirty tactics."

Count Valen snorted, his face darkening. "You don't know him like I do. He's a master of deception, always hiding his true intentions. Let me tell you about the time—"

Elara cut him off, her patience wearing thin. "Father, please. I need to focus on this test. It's important."

Count Valen looked hurt, but he nodded, reluctantly stepping back. "Very well, my lovely girl. But be careful with him. He's not to be trusted."

Elara waited until he left the room before letting out a long sigh. She turned her attention back to the test, trying to clear her mind of her father's accusations. She needed to focus, to replace a way through the maze of symbols and circles before her.

The back of the paper caught her eye. She turned it over, revealing a blank surface. On a whim, she projected a small stream of her magic onto it, and to her amazement, the surface transformed into a shimmering screen. It was a magical digital notebook, allowing her to draw, erase, and rearrange her thoughts with ease. She couldn't help but whisper, "Genius."

She used the notebook to tackle the test anew. The task was to decipher a magic circle that had been disassembled into five different parts, each represented by its own circle. The connection between the circles was philosophical rather than functional, making the challenge as much about understanding the underlying principles as it was about solving a puzzle.

Elara leaned forward, her brow furrowing in concentration. She tapped the screen with her finger, creating a new layer where she could scribble notes and draw connections. She traced the lines of each circle, trying to see how they might fit together. The philosophical aspect intrigued her. It wasn't just about raw magic; it was about the meaning behind it, the intent and the purpose.

She thought about the concepts each circle might represent. One circle seemed to embody the essence of life, its lines flowing with an organic, almost pulsating energy. Another seemed to capture the idea of death, its symbols cold and final. A third circle radiated power, strength and dominance emanating from its design.

The fourth appeared to be about wisdom, its intricate patterns suggesting layers of knowledge and insight. The fifth and final circle was the most abstract, perhaps representing balance or harmony, the way its elements seemed to flow together effortlessly.

Elara began to see a pattern, a possible way these circles could be connected. Life and death were two sides of the same coin, power required wisdom to be wielded properly, and balance tied everything together. She made notes in the magical notebook, her thoughts becoming clearer with each connection she drew.

Despite her progress, frustration simmered beneath the surface. The philosophical nature of the task was elusive, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something crucial. She clicked her tongue in irritation, her mind racing to replace the missing piece.

The hours ticked by as Elara worked, her surroundings fading into the background. She lost track of time, immersed in the intricate dance of symbols and meanings. Her father's words echoed faintly in her mind, but she dismissed them, focusing instead on the challenge before her.

As dawn approached, the first light of day filtering through her window, Elara finally felt a spark of understanding. The circles were not just about their individual meanings; they were about the relationships between those meanings. Life and death, power and wisdom, all balanced in a delicate equilibrium.

She quickly sketched out a possible arrangement, her heart pounding with anticipation. She connected the circles in a way that seemed to resonate with the underlying philosophy. It was a tentative solution, but it felt right.

Elara took a deep breath and projected her magic onto the screen, watching as the circles began to shift and merge. The symbols rearranged themselves, forming a single, unified magic circle. It glowed softly, the lines pulsing with a gentle, harmonious light. But then poof!

"Shit!" A swear came out of her beautiful mouth.

"I missed something, which one it is?" She uttered in frustration.

Looks like she still has a long road before her, but she believes that she already got a hold of the hint necessary.

___

Amberine sat cross-legged on the floor of her dormitory, the glow of magical orbs casting a soft light over the room. Her desk was cluttered with books, notes, and half-eaten snacks, a testament to the hours she had spent wrestling with the supplementary test. Unlike Elara, Amberine thrived in the solitude and silence of midnight study sessions.

The world outside her window was still, a blanket of darkness broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind.

The supplementary test lay before her, an array of magic circles disassembled into five parts, each a puzzle of its own. Amberine's brow furrowed in concentration as she traced the lines of each circle, her fingers hovering just above the parchment. She had been at this for hours, her mind a whirlwind of theories and possibilities, yet she was no closer to a solution.

"Come on, think," she muttered to herself, frustration evident in her voice. "There has to be a connection I'm missing."

Amberine had always prided herself on her analytical mind, her ability to see patterns and connections where others saw only chaos. But tonight, the circles seemed to mock her, their meanings slipping through her mental grasp like water through a sieve. She leaned back, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil within.

Her thoughts drifted back to Professor Draven. His supplementary test was not just a challenge; it was a provocation, a way to push his students to their limits. Amberine respected him for that, even if she resented the difficulty of the task. She wondered how the others were faring, if they too were struggling in the dead of night.

With a renewed sense of determination, Amberine turned her attention back to the test. She picked up her quill and began to make notes, sketching out possible connections between the circles. The first circle, with its flowing, organic lines, seemed to represent life. The second, stark and final, was death. Power radiated from the third, wisdom from the fourth, and balance from the fifth.

"Life and death, power and wisdom," Amberine mused aloud, her quill scratching against the parchment. "Balance ties them all together. But how?"

She tried to envision the circles as parts of a whole, their individual meanings merging to form a greater unity. It was a delicate dance of concepts, each one influencing and complementing the others. She drew lines between the circles, her quill moving with increasing speed as ideas flowed.

The arrangement began to take shape, the connections between life and death, power and wisdom becoming clearer.

For a moment, Amberine felt a spark of triumph. She had found a pattern, a way to bring the circles together in harmony. She projected a small stream of her magic onto the parchment, watching as the symbols began to shift and align. The circles moved closer, their lines intertwining.

And then, with a sudden jolt, the magic faltered. The circles stopped, their symbols clashing and dissolving into chaos. Amberine's heart sank as the lines unraveled, her hard-won progress disappearing before her eyes.

"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, frustration boiling over. "I was so close!"

She slammed her fist on the floor, the sound echoing through the empty dormitory. Her magic fizzled out, leaving the room in darkness save for the dim glow of the orbs. Amberine buried her face in her hands, taking deep, ragged breaths to calm herself.

Failure was a bitter pill, one she was not accustomed to swallowing. She had always been at the top of her class, the one who solved problems with ease. But this test, this infuriating puzzle, had brought her to her knees. She felt a flicker of envy, wondering if any of her classmates had succeeded where she had failed.

Amberine refused to give up. She stood, stretching her stiff limbs, and walked to the window. The cool night air was a welcome relief, clearing her mind. She gazed out at the campus, the silhouettes of buildings and trees outlined against the starry sky.

"I'll figure this out," she whispered to herself. "I have to."