Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 105: Back to the grind

Chapter 105: Back to the grind

Three days after returning from the Black Stone Mountain, Class C gathered back in our designated training hall—also known as the place where optimism went to die.

The air still smelled like old chalk, burnt mana, and teenage disappointment. The sun filtered through the tall, arched windows like it was trying to bless us. It failed.

I stood at the front, arms folded, eye twitching as I surveyed the mess that dared call itself a class.

"Alright, survivors," I said, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "Congratulations on not dying. Take a moment. Appreciate yourselves. Now forget it. You’re back at the bottom again."

Julien raised an eyebrow. "Bit harsh, don’t you think?"

"Not nearly harsh enough. You think glory means anything here?" I tapped the blackboard behind me where someone had scrawled ’Class C GOATS’ in chalk. Probably Felix. "In this academy, the moment you do something impressive, everyone starts planning your funeral. And since none of you are getting fancy coffins, I suggest you stay sharp."

Felix raised a hand. "Do we at least get a bronze statue?"

"No, but I can stuff you and mount your body in the entrance hall as a warning to others."

He lowered the hand.

"Right, now," I continued, slapping a thick book onto the lectern with a satisfying thud, "today’s lesson: tactical rune adaptation in high-pressure scenarios."

Groans.

Wallace immediately raised his hand. "Didn’t we literally live tactical rune adaptation last week?"

"Yes, and you also nearly blew your arm off using a runic feedback loop like a brainless squirrel gnawing on lightning. So now we review."

Mira leaned over to Cassandra. "Is this what post-trauma education feels like?"

Cassandra shrugged. "Better than healing herbs and silence."

I began sketching runic patterns on the board with aggressive strokes. "Now, observe this rune—Pattern Δ47, also known as the ’Don’t Touch This or You’ll Die’ circuit. Anyone want to guess what Felix did wrong last time he used it?"

Felix looked proud. "I made it explode heroically?"

"Wrong. You made it explode pathetically. A heroic explosion at least takes out enemies. Yours just took out your pants."

"Still got compliments on that, though."

"From who? The medics? They have pity in their job description."

Garrick, from the back, muttered, "At least it wasn’t the one that set his eyebrows on fire."

"Thank you, Garrick," I said, flipping a page. "Now that we’re all reminded that half of you are walking disasters in human form, let’s move on."

Julien leaned back in his chair. "So what’s the actual objective today, Professor?"

"Glad you asked, Smartass. Today, you’re going to recreate the rune combos you used in the mountain—but this time, you’ll do it without the pressure of dying, bleeding, or being hunted. You know. Real stress."

Wallace groaned. "So... you want us to repeat the trauma, but academically."

I nodded. "Precisely. Don’t worry, I’ll throw insults instead of arrows this time."

The class broke into teams, grudgingly dragging themselves to different corners of the hall. Mira and Cassandra worked near the window, muttering darkly over chalk lines. Garrick and Wallace were already bickering about rune alignments.

Felix, meanwhile, drew a smiley face with glowing mana.

"Felix," I said, not even turning around. "That rune is illegal in four countries."

He blinked. "It’s a smiley face!"

"It also happens to detonate minor illusions. Do you want us to see your childhood trauma live in 4D?"

"...Maybe."

Julien passed by, smirking. "How’s the mental health of the class looking, Professor?"

"Oh, I’d say one breakdown away from an interpretive dance recital."

He chuckled. "Are you always this encouraging?"

I gave him a look. "No. Sometimes I offer cookies before I crush dreams. Builds rapport."

By mid-morning, someone—probably Mira—accidentally overloaded a sigil array, sending a brief shockwave that knocked over three desks, scattered books, and flipped Felix’s chair.

He didn’t even flinch. "I’m fine. My pride cushioned the fall."

"It’s the only thing about you that’s thick enough to do that," Cassandra replied without missing a beat.

"Now, now," I called out. "Save your burns for the battlefield. Or don’t. I quite enjoy watching you roast each other. Builds character. Also prepares you for the social battlefield of noble banquets—where the backstabbing is metaphorical. Sometimes."

Wallace raised a hand. "So... are we actually going to get evaluated today?"

"Oh, yes," I grinned. "Starting now."

I clapped once, and the board behind me lit up with ten new rune patterns.

"Each of you will replicate one of these, explain its structure, and then demonstrate it on a moving target. Bonus points if the target doesn’t sue."

Felix blinked. "Wait, moving targets? You mean like training dummies, right?"

I snapped my fingers.

The door opened.

Six enchanted golems stomped into the room, armed with blunted weapons and glowing weak points.

"Nope," I said. "Meet your new dance partners. Let’s see if you learned anything from not dying."

Leo groaned from behind a bookshelf. "Why is this school like this?"

"Because if it wasn’t, you’d all still be mediocre," I replied, clapping my hands. "Begin!"

And chaos returned.

Mira’s rune detonated precisely, stunning her golem mid-swing. Wallace’s construct nearly short-circuited his when it backfired. Garrick body-checked his golem after it ignored the rune entirely. Cassandra’s rune worked perfectly—then she tripped Felix into his golem for fun.

"CASSANDRA!" he yelped as he rolled across the floor. "MY BACK IS NOT A SACRIFICIAL RUNE!"

"Don’t tempt me," she replied dryly.

Julien’s rune sequence was crisp, calculated—he even left space for a conditional variable, something most first-years forget entirely. His golem shut down with a whimper.

I gave a slow nod. "Congratulations, Julien. You didn’t disappoint me. I almost feel something resembling approval. It’s weird."

He smirked. "I live to confuse you, Professor."

Once the dust settled and everyone’s limbs were still attached, I called them back into a half-circle.

"Lesson of the day?" I asked.

Felix raised a hand, covered in chalk dust and shame. "Never trust golems."

"Wrong. The real lesson is that pain is a more honest teacher than praise. But I’ll accept yours as a bonus answer."

Cassandra sighed. "Are all your classes going to be like this?"

"Only the ones where you learn something," I replied, then added, "So yes."

They groaned in unison.

It was music to my ears.

The classroom still smelled like burnt mana and mild regret. Students slumped against walls, sitting on the floor like they’d survived a war—which, technically, they had, but now it was the academic kind, which was worse.

I was halfway through scribbling some notes about Mira’s improvised rune flare—brilliant, if mildly illegal—when the door creaked open.

"Lucian Drelmont."

The voice was clean. Crisp. The kind of tone that didn’t ask permission—it expected it. Like the owner had practiced condescension in the mirror until it was a weapon.

I didn’t look up. "If you’re selling salvation, I already have enough sins to fill a ledger."

"Good to know," the voice replied coolly. "But I’m here on behalf of the Board."

That made me glance up.

There, standing in the doorway, was Instructor Thelran Voss.

Ugh. Of course.

Thelran Voss—Golden Division tactician, dressed like a noble who had drowned in embroidery and refused to die politely. His hair was slicked back like it feared gravity, and his smile looked like it had been surgically attached.

He stepped in, eyeing the students like they were feral pets at a noble petting zoo. "Quite the... lively session."

Mira muttered, "He talks like a noble stepped on his ego and left a bootprint."

Julien chuckled. I didn’t stop them.

"Class C," I said, gesturing vaguely to the barely-conscious group, "say hello to the man who thinks rubbing perfume on incompetence makes it smell like achievement."

Felix, still on the floor, raised a hand weakly. "Do I have to stand for this?"

"No," I said. "Your dignity’s already on its knees."

Thelran ignored us and walked around, inspecting rune diagrams like he was judging a child’s attempt at math.

"This one’s asymmetric," he said, tapping one. "Sloppy."

"Actually," Wallace cut in, "it’s intentional. It disrupts linear casting from the opposing direction. You know, to delay enemy synchronization."

Thelran blinked.

I smirked. "Yes, even the gremlins here know theory."

He sniffed. "Unorthodox methods are tolerable when managed... but your class performance is drawing attention, Drelmont. Not all of it welcome."

Julien crossed his arms. "We doing too well for the Academy’s comfort?"

"Let’s just say," Voss said with a polite sneer, "your sudden rise has upset certain... expectations."

Mira leaned forward. "Translation: the elite kids are crying."

Leo muttered, "Good. They need to hydrate."

Thelran straightened his coat like it had been insulted. "Regardless, the Board is curious. A formal inspection has been scheduled. In three days."

Cassandra spoke quietly from the back. "Is that an order or a warning?"

He smiled again. "Yes."

With that, he turned and left, his boots clicking like a passive-aggressive countdown.

The room was silent.

Then Julien said, "Well, that didn’t feel ominous at all."

"Nope," I said. "That was absolutely a polite ’we’re watching you’ moment."

Felix groaned. "Do we have to do something special for the inspection?"

"Yes," I said, turning to the blackboard and writing in large, bold letters:

’Don’t Embarrass Me.’

Julien snorted. "That’s a tall order."

"Then stretch."

Wallace sighed. "Are we doomed?"

I turned around slowly, my grin sharp. "Probably. But we’ll fail so loudly they’ll have to respect it."