Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 123: Tactical trauma

Chapter 123: Tactical trauma

The sky was too blue for the madness I had planned.

I stood on the training field, hands behind my back, watching as the walking disasters of Class C trickled in. The bruised, the overconfident, and the chronically unprepared—my personal bundle of headaches.

Mira and Cassandra were still missing. Some research project or special curriculum nonsense. Honestly? Good. They had enough sense not to run into stationary objects mid-spar. The rest of these morons? Not so lucky.

"Alright, you damp socks in human form," I called out, startling Felix, "today is our first real mock battlefield exercise."

Leo groaned. Wallace squinted like I’d spoken a foreign language. Julien was already flexing like he’d won something.

I tossed a stone at him.

It bounced off his forehead.

"That was for breathing smugly," I said.

Julien scowled but said nothing. Progress.

I pointed at the freshly rearranged field. Sandbags, barricades, smokescreens, and mana-fueled traps. "Welcome to your lesson in chaos: Controlled Scenario Combat. Except nothing is controlled and you’ll probably scream."

Wallace raised a hand. "Sir, is this safe?"

"No."

Leo: "Are we allowed to surrender?"

"No."

Felix: "Is there at least a medic nearby?"

"Do you think this is a tea party, Felix? Do you want cookies and milk too?"

"I... I mean..."

I clapped my hands. "Split into two teams. Julien, you lead the defenders. Wallace, you’re with him. Felix, Leo, Garrick—you’re attacking."

Felix turned pale.

"I put you on attack," I explained, "so if you run away, it counts as flanking."

Felix didn’t know whether to feel grateful or terrified.

Probably both.

The whistle blew, and so did their chances of doing this cleanly.

Julien barked orders like he was born in a war drama. Wallace fiddled with traps. Garrick immediately charged, forgetting the plan. Leo panicked and followed, mumbling about regrets. Felix tripped and faceplanted before the fight even started.

I sipped from my tea, watching this tragic ballet unfold.

Wallace activated a trap... which exploded on himself.

"Self-sabotage," I noted. "Innovative."

Julien managed to block Garrick’s hammer strike—barely—but missed the follow-up punch that sent him flying into a barrel.

Garrick stood there blinking. "Did I win?"

"No," I called out. "You just contributed to future property damage."

Leo, meanwhile, was trying to cast a water barrier, except it sputtered into a weak mist that made it look like he was crying.

"Someone console Leo," I said. "He’s manifesting his feelings as spells."

Then came Felix.

Oh, dear, sweet Felix.

He was sneaking around the barricades, muttering something about ’being useful for once’—and then tripped over a wire Wallace forgot to mark.

A glitter bomb erupted.

Bright sparkles flew into the air like someone just announced the birth of a magical unicorn.

I blinked.

"Wallace," I said flatly, "explain."

"It was for diversion!"

"Right now, Felix looks like a piñata who lost a fight to a fairy. Diversion successful."

Twenty minutes later, the field was a war crime.

Leo was unconscious—just asleep, thank gods. Garrick was sitting on a broken barricade looking smug. Wallace had accidentally trapped Julien in a containment rune. And Felix... well, he was still glittering.

I stood in front of them, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Silence.

Then I clapped.

"Beautiful," I said.

They blinked.

"Absolutely disgusting. Like watching ducks try to operate siege weapons. I have never been more impressed and disappointed at the same time."

"...So we passed?" Felix dared to ask.

"No. But I’m too emotionally numb to start over."

Leo raised a hand from where he was lying in the grass. "Can we at least... not do that again?"

"No promises."

I let them rest while I scrawled notes in my journal. Not about tactics—gods no—but about behavioral patterns, weak points, and who I could trust with actual combat decisions.

Julien? Effective under pressure, but easily baited. Wallace? Clever, but short-sighted. Garrick? Strong, obedient, brain still buffering. Leo? Capable of panic-fueled brilliance. Felix? A miracle if he survived the week.

Still... they were improving. Slowly. Painfully.

And if this was what it took to beat the academy’s odds and keep them alive through the nightmare that awaited them in a few weeks?

Then I’d mock them until they cried blood and thanked me for it.

As they began dragging themselves off the field, I called out one last thing.

"Tomorrow: endurance circuit. Bring two things—stamina and your wills. I’ll be breaking both."

Leo wailed. Felix tripped again. Wallace sighed like a man much older than his years.

And me?

I smiled.

Let the chaos continue.

—

By the time the next morning rolled around, half of Class C looked like they’d fought a war. The other half looked like they lost one.

"Morning, sunshine squad," I greeted them, clapping my hands once. "I trust your bruises have settled in nicely? Good. You’ll be earning new ones today."

Felix whimpered.

I turned to him. "What’s that, Felix? A protest? No? Just a dying breath? Excellent."

We were at the academy’s outer training track—normally used by upper-tier squads for combat conditioning. I had, with minimal permission and maximum sarcasm, claimed it for the day.

Why?

Because nothing builds teamwork like shared suffering.

And I was in the mood to ruin some childhoods.

I pointed at the massive circuit ahead: obstacle walls, mana-draining fields, flame hoops, and a cursed mud pit.

Leo stared in horror. "Is that—does that pit actually scream when people step in it?"

"Yes," I said proudly. "I installed it myself."

Wallace blinked. "You... installed a cursed mud pit?"

"I have hobbies."

Julien looked around, cracking his neck. "You expect us to survive this?"

"No. I expect you to survive this. I fully expect Felix to die at least once before lunch."

Felix opened his mouth, then closed it. Probably wise.

"Here are the rules," I said, walking backward while holding up a finger. "You will complete five laps. You will not walk. You will not stop. You will not whine. For every lap you fail to finish in ten minutes, you owe me one clean hallway and a personal essay on how to breathe without embarrassing your ancestors."

"But—" Leo began.

"No." I spun on my heel and jabbed a finger at him. "You made that water shield yesterday that looked like wet laundry. You, of all people, do not get to question me."

He grumbled. Garrick patted his shoulder like a good dog.

"Ready?" I said.

"No," Wallace muttered.

"Go!"

Chaos.

The first obstacle was a stone wall with mana spikes on top.

Garrick cleared it in one jump.

Leo tried to climb and got stuck halfway.

Julien scaled it with flair, flipping off the top like a performer.

Wallace used some contraption that exploded and launched him over—straight into the next wall. I took notes.

Felix ran full speed, tripped on his own foot, and slammed into the wall face-first.

"Excellent," I called. "We now know who’s in charge of frontline distractions."

Felix groaned from the dirt.

By lap two, sweat was everywhere.

Leo had a nosebleed. Garrick was shirtless for no reason. Wallace had mud in his ears. Julien was still trying to act cool, even while limping.

And Felix?

He was glowing faintly from stepping into the cursed pit wrong. Not in a magical way. More in a "will soon explode" kind of way.

"Felix," I yelled, "stop radiating doom. It’s scaring the wildlife."

"But I can’t feel my legs!"

"Then crawl, soldier. Crawl like your academic future depends on it!"

To his credit, he did. Horribly. Pathetically. I wept a little.

By lap four, I was seeing real progress.

Julien was using proper footwork. Leo had stopped crying. Wallace had stopped talking (thank the stars). Garrick was moving like a war beast. Even Felix was upright. Kind of.

I actually considered not insulting them for a moment.

Then Wallace detonated another gadget, blasting Leo into a bush.

"Back to disappointment," I muttered, sipping my tea.

When they finally collapsed at the end of the fifth lap, I approached them with a proud smile.

"Congratulations," I said. "You’ve completed the Lucian Drelmont Personal Growth Gauntlet: Where Pain Becomes Lesson."

They groaned.

"Felix," I added, "I’m genuinely impressed. You only screamed six times today. Down from twelve yesterday."

"I think I’m concussed," he muttered.

"That’s just your potential awakening."

Julien looked up. "Can we... go now?"

"Of course," I said sweetly. "After we review the footage."

They froze.

"Footage?" Leo croaked.

"Yes." I turned to reveal a small orb floating nearby. "Say hello to the Tactical Feedback Recorder. It’s enchanted to save every embarrassing moment and play it back in slow motion."

They stared in horror.

"Tomorrow," I added, "we analyze each of your failures while the rest of the class takes notes."

Felix curled into a ball.

"Class dismissed," I said, already walking away. "And remember: survival isn’t just the goal—it’s the bare minimum."

Back in my quarters, I collapsed into my chair, smirking at the utter mess I’d created.

They were raw. Clumsy. Frustrating.

But they were learning.

And I’d be damned if I didn’t turn this haphazard circus into a squad worth fearing.

Even if I had to mock them into greatness.