The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 433: The Accusation in Aetherion

The grand hall of the symposium was buzzing with conversation, filled with the murmurs of students, scholars, and officials discussing the latest advancements in magic, debates about theory, and the pressing issues of Aetherion. Amberine was there, seated among her peers in the section dedicated to students and early-stage researchers, the excitement of the gathering electrifying her senses. She had been looking forward to this open forum, eager to soak up as much knowledge as possible and to understand the pulse of current affairs in the magical world.

The hall was a sight to behold, with its arched ceilings that seemed to stretch endlessly upwards, intricate murals depicting historical moments in the history of Aetherion, and shimmering magical sconces that cast a gentle, ambient light across the room. Groups of people had formed naturally throughout the space—some were engaged in heated academic debates, while others spoke in hushed tones about magical politics. It was the sort of environment where anyone who was anyone in the magical community would want to be seen, a showcase of prestige and intellect.

Amberine looked around, taking in the grandeur and the gathering of such esteemed figures. To her left, a group of students from Magic Tower University were discussing a recent presentation on ley line manipulations, their eyes wide with awe and excitement. To her right, she noticed a cluster of scholars engrossed in conversation about dungeon cores, the intensity of their expressions hinting at a debate over their latest findings. She could hear snippets of discussions on mana stabilization and the ethics of necromancy, topics that made her want to edge closer just to hear more.

Despite the formal nature of the symposium, there was a sense of underlying tension in the air—the kind of tension that hinted at something important, perhaps even controversial, being discussed today. She could sense it in the way the scholars spoke in hushed tones, in the way officials huddled together, their faces serious. She shifted in her seat, wondering what was going on and hoping that whatever it was, it would be addressed openly.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The subtle buzz of conversation in the hall was interrupted by a commotion near the entrance. Amberine craned her neck to see what was happening. A few of the higher council members were entering the hall, their expressions grave, their robes adorned with intricate sigils that marked their status. The air seemed to grow heavy as they walked in, the crowd parting to let them through.

"Something’s happening," whispered a student beside her, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Amberine nodded, her eyes fixed on the council members as they made their way to the center of the hall. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, curiosity rippling through the room. She could see the scholars and officials exchanging glances, their expressions ranging from concerned to outright anxious. It was clear that whatever was about to happen was of significant importance.

An official representative of the Arcane Council stepped forward, his voice amplified by a magical projection that hovered above the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed scholars and students of Aetherion, thank you for your attention," he began, his tone formal, yet carrying an undeniable weight of seriousness. "We have gathered here today not only to discuss the progress of magical research but also to address a matter of grave importance that concerns one of our most prominent members."

A hush fell over the hall, all eyes now on the official. Amberine felt her stomach twist, a sense of unease settling over her. The magical projection above the official’s head shifted, the image changing until it displayed a familiar figure. Amberine’s heart sank as she recognized the face. Draven. His stern, cold expression seemed to gaze out at them, the projection sharp and imposing. Experience more tales on novelbuddy

The official continued, his voice solemn. "It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that Professor Draven Arcanum von Drakhan is under suspicion regarding the incident known as ’The 12th Arcane Carriage Incident,’ which tragically resulted in the deaths of several prominent individuals, including Lady Sharon of Blackthorn."

A wave of shock rippled through the crowd. Gasps filled the hall, followed by a rush of murmurs. Amberine’s eyes widened, her chest tightening in disbelief. The image of Draven remained projected above them, his face a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. She could hardly believe what she was hearing—Draven, accused of involvement in such a tragedy? It felt surreal, as if the ground had shifted beneath her.

The murmurs grew louder, the whispers of confusion and disbelief filling the air. "Lady Sharon?" someone near her whispered. "The knight that is the niece of Duchess Blackthorn?"

Amberine turned her head, her gaze drawn to a woman rising from her seat. Duchess Blackthorn. The noblewoman was a figure of power and influence, her presence commanding attention. Her face was pale, her eyes filled with both grief and determination. She stood tall, her expression resolute as she addressed the gathering.

"I stand here today as a grieving aunt, seeking justice for my niece, Lady Sharon," Duchess Blackthorn said, her voice carrying across the hall, each word sharp and clear. "I have come before you all with evidence that implicates Draven Arcanum von Drakhan in the tragedy that befell the 12th Arcane Carriage."

She gestured, and another magical projection appeared—this one showing scenes from the incident. The destroyed carriage, the scorched earth, the remnants of what had once been a magnificent vehicle, now reduced to ruins. Amberine’s gaze was fixed on the images, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, a projection of Draven appeared—his form battered, his robes torn, his face bruised. There were traces of dark magic in the air around him, dark tendrils that seemed to cling to his aura.

The duchess’s voice trembled slightly, a mix of fury and grief evident in her tone. "These are the remnants of the incident. Traces of dark magic were found, and Professor Draven was found at the scene—battered, yes, but very much alive. I will not rest until justice is served, until my niece’s death is answered for."

Amberine’s hands tightened around her journal, her knuckles white. The weight of the accusation settled heavily in her chest, her thoughts a jumble of disbelief and fear. Could Draven really have been involved in something like this? She thought back to her interactions with him—his cold demeanor, his distance, but also the moments when he had shown her kindness, had guided her when she needed it most. It didn’t make sense.

But at the same time.

She remember.

He is the one who killed her father.

The hall was in chaos, whispers and murmurs filling the air, the tension palpable. Amberine’s gaze was fixed on the projection, her heart aching with confusion. She wanted to believe that it wasn’t true, that there was some kind of mistake. But the evidence—the dark magic, Draven’s presence at the scene—it was damning.

Another figure stepped forward, her robes adorned with the sigils of the Continental Magic Council. Chancellor Lisanor. She was known for her authority, a respected figure whose opinion carried considerable weight. She looked around the room, his expression grave as he spoke.

"I have reviewed the evidence presented by Duchess Blackthorn," Lisanor said, her voice calm, yet carrying an undeniable sense of authority. "It is substantial enough to warrant a formal investigation. In light of the seriousness of the accusations, I propose that Professor Draven be detained until such a time that his innocence or guilt can be determined through proper inquiry."

A collective gasp filled the room, the tension escalating. Amberine’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. Detained? The word echoed in her mind, a sense of dread washing over her. The gravity of the accusations, the possibility of Draven being imprisoned—it was almost too much to bear. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on the projection, the sense of judgment in the air.

She thought back to the last time she had seen Draven, the way he had stood before the reviewers, presenting his research with unwavering confidence. Could that same man—the one who had shown such brilliance, such poise—really be capable of something so monstrous? And if he wasn’t, who would want to frame him? Who could have the power and influence to set all of this into motion?

Just as the tension in the room seemed to reach a breaking point, a new voice cut through the chaos—steady, authoritative, and calm. "Enough."

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The crowd fell silent, the murmurs fading away as all eyes turned to the figure stepping forward. Chancellor Kyrion. He was known for his integrity, his reputation untarnished, his opinions often carrying a sense of finality. His robes were deep blue, adorned with sigils that marked him as one of the highest-ranking members of the council.

Kyrion’s gaze was sharp as he looked around the room, his eyes meeting those of Duchess Blackthorn and Chancellor Lisanor before settling on the magical projection of Draven. "I have reviewed the evidence as well," he said, his voice clear and unwavering. "And while I acknowledge the tragedy of what has occurred, I must say that the evidence presented is inconclusive."

A murmur ran through the crowd, a mix of surprise and confusion. Amberine felt a glimmer of hope, her chest loosening as she listened to Kyrion’s words.

"Until concrete evidence is provided," Kyrion continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, "I will personally vouch for Draven Arcanum von Drakhan’s innocence. It would be a grave injustice to detain him or treat him as guilty without proper proof."

His words carried a weight that seemed to settle over the entire hall, the tension easing slightly as the crowd absorbed what he had said. Kyrion projected an aura of confidence and reason, and Amberine could see the effect it had on the others. He gestured towards the projections, his eyes moving over the scenes of the incident. "I have found inconsistencies in the evidence, gaps that suggest that there may be more to this than what we see here. I urge the council to proceed with caution, to ensure that we do not tarnish the reputation of an esteemed scholar without proper cause. I personally has received a letter of report from Earl Drakhan himself regarding his lateness, and I will display it after a discussion with the rest of the council members,"

Amberine felt her heart swell with hope, her eyes fixed on Kyrion as he spoke. His calm, composed defense of Draven was like a lifeline, something for her to hold onto in the midst of the uncertainty. He pointed out the flaws in the evidence—the discrepancies in the timelines, the strange traces of magic that didn’t match Draven’s signature. It was as if he was peeling back the layers of a carefully constructed illusion, revealing the truth hidden beneath.

Kyrion ended his speech by turning towards the council, his expression stern. "I ask that we allow due process to unfold, that we remember the principles of fairness and justice that Aetherion stands for. Even in the face of tragedy, we must not lose sight of what is right."

There was a moment of silence, the tension in the room slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of uncertainty. The council members exchanged glances, their expressions thoughtful, and Amberine could feel the atmosphere shift. Kyrion had managed to sway the mood, to bring reason and calm to what had been a chaotic and emotional moment.

Before stepping back, Kyrion added one final statement, his voice carrying across the hall. "I also wish to note that I have additional evidence that may shed light on this matter. I will present it correspondingly, once I have gathered all the necessary information. Until then, I ask that we refrain from making any hasty decisions."

Amberine let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her body relaxing slightly. Kyrion’s words had given her hope—hope that perhaps Draven wasn’t guilty, that perhaps there was more to this than met the eye. She watched as the room slowly began to calm, the scholars and officials exchanging hushed words, the tension easing.

She couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe for Kyrion. He had stood up in the face of powerful accusations, had spoken with authority and reason, and had managed to bring a sense of balance back to the room. Amberine knew that whatever happened next, it wouldn’t be easy—but at least, for now, Draven wasn’t alone. And neither was she.