The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Chapter 245 The Barrier Test (3) The Refined Barrier

The chalk continued to move, drawing the final details of the circle as Draven spoke. His voice was calm but firm, demanding absolute attention. "This circle is not just a barrier—it is designed to withstand force, to absorb impact and channel it away from the point of contact. The key is precision, not power. It is not enough to simply create a shield. You must tailor it to the attack."

The last stroke of the chalk clicked into place, and the magic circle gleamed on the board behind him. It was a masterpiece of precision, each line perfectly aligned, each rune humming with subtle energy. The students stared, absorbing every detail, knowing that the complexity of the circle was beyond anything they had learned before.

Draven's gaze shifted toward the class once more, and his cold eyes landed on a young noble seated in the front row. "Blackthorn," he called out, his voice sharp. "Stand and make your barrier."

The student, a son of the prestigious Blackthorn family, stood with a nervous swallow. His family's reputation weighed heavily on him, and failure was not an option. He stepped forward, raising his hand, and summoned his mana. A barrier shimmered into existence in front of him, a broad, shimmering wall of energy that he hoped would be enough.

Draven didn't waste any time. With a speed that took the entire class by surprise, he vanished from where he stood and reappeared directly in front of the boy, the earthen sword in his hand. He thrust forward with the weapon, the force behind the strike far more than what anyone had anticipated.

The class gasped as the barrier shattered like glass under the pressure of Draven's attack. The sound of the barrier breaking echoed through the room, and the noble stumbled back, his eyes wide in shock. Even Elara, who rarely showed emotion, blinked in surprise at the display of power.

Draven didn't react to the collective shock. Instead, he turned back toward the board, his voice calm and unshaken. "That," he said, pointing at the magic circle, "is the formula for a barrier strong enough to withstand my strike. What you saw was the failure of an unrefined shield—a barrier formed without thought or care for the type of attack it would face."

The students were silent, their eyes glued to the chalk markings on the board. Draven had moved so quickly, his strike so precise, that even the most talented students had failed to keep up with him. They realized now that this was not about learning spells by rote—it was about mastery, about understanding magic on a fundamental level.

The sword floated beside Draven once more as he turned his attention back to the class. His gaze landed on Elara, who stood as soon as their eyes met. Without needing to be asked, she summoned her golden mana, her expression as calm as ever. Her barrier formed in front of her, small and focused, just as Draven had taught.

She adjusted it, refining the shield until it gleamed with a golden light, sharp and precise.

Draven disappeared again, his speed blurring as he moved toward her, the sword slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. Elara's barrier met the strike, holding for a moment longer than Blackthorn's, but the result was the same—the barrier shattered, the pieces of golden light dispersing like glass.

Elara didn't flinch, though there was a brief flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She had expected more from herself, but Draven's strike had been too fast, too powerful.

Draven's gaze remained impassive as he spoke. "Precision, not speed. You're adjusting too late. Anticipate the attack before it arrives, and your barrier will respond accordingly."

Elara nodded, her face unreadable, and returned to her seat. Draven's eyes now turned toward Amberine, who was watching with a mixture of frustration and determination. He called her forward, and she stood, her hands clenched into fists.

"Follow the formula," Draven said, his voice sharp. "Adjust it to your mana and make a shield."

Amberine took a deep breath, summoning her fire magic. The flames roared to life around her, but this time, she didn't let them spiral out of control. She forced them into the shape of a barrier, refining the shield with the same magic circle Draven had drawn. It wasn't easy—the fire wanted to escape, to grow—but Amberine held it in place, molding it into something sharp, something precise.

The difference was immediate. The barrier in front of her was not the chaotic wall of flames she had used earlier. It was focused, controlled, and though the fire flickered at the edges, it was solid.

Draven's eyes narrowed slightly, impressed despite himself. "Good," he said softly, and with a blur of motion, he disappeared again, the sword in his hand thrusting toward her barrier with incredible speed.

Amberine felt the strike before she saw it. The impact was sharp, the force of Draven's attack powerful enough to rattle her bones—but this time, the barrier held. There was a loud clank, and Amberine gasped as she realized what had happened.

The wooden sword in Draven's hand had broken against her shield.

The room fell silent, the other students staring in disbelief. Draven stepped back, looking at the broken hilt in his hand before dropping it to the ground. His cold eyes turned toward Amberine, and though his expression remained unreadable, there was a glint of approval in his gaze.

"This," he said, gesturing toward the broken sword, "is the result of proper execution. A barrier adjusted to the strength and speed of the attack." He turned to face the class, his voice commanding their full attention once more. "A shield is not simply something that blocks all attacks.

A true barrier is tailored to the situation—a surge of flame, a fast-moving arrow, a spinning rock—all require different adjustments. While there are barriers that can withstand most things with average durability, a skilled magician must learn how to craft the perfect shield for each situation. That is how you survive." Experience tales at empire

The students were silent, their eyes glued to Draven as he spoke. For the first time, they weren't just learning spells—they were learning how to think like magicians, how to fight, how to survive.

Amberine, still standing at the front of the room, was the first to move. She turned toward the blackboard and quickly began scribbling down the magic circle Draven had drawn, her hands moving fast as she tried to capture every detail. One by one, the other students followed her lead, their notebooks filling with hurried notes as they tried to absorb everything they had learned.

Draven's sharp gaze swept over the room once more as he stood before the chalkboard, watching the students scribble down the intricate magic circle with a mix of nervous energy and focus. The silence in the room was palpable, broken only by the scratching of quills against parchment. He gave them a moment longer, letting the weight of his next words settle in their minds.

"I will give you fifteen minutes," Draven said, his voice cold and steady. "During this time, you are to study the magic circle's formula, understand each stroke, and adjust it to suit your own mana. This is not a mere exercise. This is a test."

The tension in the room heightened instantly. Eyes widened, hands paused mid-note, and the collective energy shifted. They knew Draven wasn't one to hand out empty challenges. A test in his class was never just a test—it was a matter of survival. The students exchanged quick glances, nervous but determined.

The faint pressure of time already loomed over them, even though he hadn't officially started the countdown.

Draven continued, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "Once the time is up, you will face me. The barrier you create will either defend against a needle I throw or a sword hurled toward your shield." His eyes narrowed, scanning the room. "Make no mistake—if your barrier fails, there will be no second chance. The test will count toward your final score."

Amberine shifted in her seat, her face tense as she replayed her earlier success with the shield. Elara sat still as stone, her golden mana already shifting subtly as she calculated the adjustments in her head. Maris, though nervous, breathed deeply, her hands still shaking but her determination steadying her.

"You've already seen what happens when a barrier is made without precision," Draven said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You have also seen the results of a proper shield tailored to the attack. I expect nothing less than perfection in this test. You will either understand the formula and defend yourself, or you will fail."

He took a step back, his cold eyes flicking toward the clock on the wall. "Your fifteen minutes begin now."

The students sprang into action, their quills moving faster than ever as they scribbled notes, studying the strokes of the magic circle intently. Some muttered under their breath, calculating how to mold the circle to match their mana signatures. Others worked silently, eyes narrowed with focus, hands steady as they practiced small strokes of mana in the air.

Draven stood at the front of the room, his presence a looming shadow over them, his gaze watching every movement. His mind calculated, measured each student's potential. This was more than a quiz—it was an evaluation. Those who passed would move forward, ready for the real challenges that awaited. Those who failed... they would be left behind.

Fifteen minutes to determine who would survive the coming storm.