Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 125: Disaster magnets

Chapter 125: Disaster magnets

Cassandra stood at the edge of the training field like a phantom made of judgment. Her arms were crossed, expression blank, eyes sharp as glass.

Mira lounged next to her on a broken fence post, lazily twirling a dagger between her fingers like it was a hairpin.

Felix tripped again.

Over nothing.

"You ever think," Mira muttered, "that he might be cursed?"

"I checked," Cassandra replied softly. "Twice. Nothing supernatural. Just... Felix."

Meanwhile, the subject of their conversation was attempting to create a small protective barrier. The result looked more like a mana-formed pretzel. It buzzed. It flickered. It sizzled slightly.

Then it fell apart with a sound like an offended fart.

"Felix," I called, voice neutral. "Do you know what you just summoned?"

He looked up, hopeful. "A defensive ward?"

"No. A warning sign."

"For what?"

"For anyone nearby with common sense to run."

I stepped forward, hands clasped behind my back, giving the rest of Class C a quick once-over. Garrick was sweating but stable. Leo had stopped complaining, which meant he was about to pass out. Wallace had somehow attached an explosive component to his shoes. Again.

"Let’s talk about what just happened," I said, loud enough to silence the field. "Felix failed a shield rune. Mira added a hex to a practice dummy. Cassandra made eye contact with a bird and it died. Wallace invented a firebomb. Leo insulted gravity and lost."

Leo groaned from the dirt. "It started it!"

"And Garrick," I turned, "stood still. Impressive. Standing is about all we’re asking of him these days."

"Thanks, Professor," Garrick muttered with a faint smile. "I think."

I pointed at Mira. "You. Explain what you were doing when the dummy caught fire and started screaming."

She smiled. "Technically, it was howling."

"I didn’t ask for a sound classification, Trickster. I asked what the hell you did."

She shrugged. "I was trying to make the rune more... expressive."

"Expressive? You gave it sentience. It asked for mercy before it melted."

Then I turned to Cassandra.

"And you. Did you mean to summon that aura of despair around your corner of the field?"

Cassandra blinked once. "That wasn’t me."

"Mhm. And the unnatural drop in temperature? The fog? The fact that Wallace’s hair turned gray?"

Wallace lifted a hand weakly. "It was already graying, I swear."

"I was meditating," Cassandra replied, tone steady. "Perhaps nature is simply unsettled."

"Oh good. So now the natural world is afraid of you."

I turned to the rest of them. "Let this be a lesson. Cassandra doesn’t cast curses. She attracts them."

"I’m not that bad," she said.

A raven croaked and dropped from the sky behind her.

No one said anything.

"Alright," I clapped my hands once. "Today’s lesson is rune channeling under stress. Real combat isn’t clean or convenient. You’ll be wet, tired, bleeding, or in Felix’s case—already halfway into the dirt praying for divine intervention."

"I heard that," he mumbled from the ground.

"You were supposed to. It was encouragement."

I summoned a series of shifting rune panels in the air. "Three layers. Each with a unique distortion. Decode, stabilize, and activate. First one to succeed gets a pass on homework for the week."

Mira’s eyes glinted.

Cassandra tilted her head.

Felix made a sound like a dying mouse.

Wallace groaned, "Do we die if we fail?"

"No," I said. "But I will judge you. And so will Cassandra. Silently. From behind you. Forever."

They got to work.

Mira was fast, but cocky—her panel flickered when she tried to speed through the second rune. A mild zap hit her fingers. She hissed and shook her hand.

"Careful," I called. "Pain is just the rune saying hello."

"Then this one’s a very rude greeter."

Cassandra, of course, took a slower approach. Her fingers traced with elegant precision, her eyes barely blinking.

It was unnerving how graceful she was with blood magic—without using any blood.

Wallace? Already tinkering with a miniature device to "enhance stability."

"Wallace," I warned, "if that detonates and launches Felix again, I’m failing you just for the comedic timing."

"I triple-checked it this time!"

"Great. That’s how many times it’ll explode."

Felix was... Felix.

His rune panel looked like someone spilled soup on a spellbook. Colors weren’t supposed to gurgle. I didn’t know how he even managed that.

In the end, Cassandra finished first.

No sparks. No noise. Just a perfect hum and a slow pulse of gray light.

"Acceptable," I muttered.

Mira finished second after muttering a few curses (both magical and verbal). Wallace’s gadget nearly caught fire, but technically worked. Garrick accidentally punched his rune into stability. Leo gave up halfway and pretended to pass out.

And Felix...

"Professor," he said weakly, holding up a rune that glowed pink.

"Felix. What’s that supposed to be?"

"A shield rune. I think."

"That’s a healing charm for chickens."

"What?"

"You just restored stamina to imaginary poultry. Congratulations."

Class ended with most of them limping, smoking, or laughing at each other’s bruises.

Cassandra walked off in her usual eerie silence.

Mira slipped a note into my coat pocket as she passed.

Felix stayed back, rubbing his head. "Was I really the worst?"

"No," I said kindly. "You were... consistent. A baseline of failure. Very dependable in that regard."

"Thanks, I guess?"

I patted his shoulder. "One day, you’ll surprise me. I don’t know if it’ll be good or horrifying. But I will be surprised."

He smiled faintly.

And tripped on the stairs.

As I watched them leave, I sat back and let out a sigh.

Chaotic. Dangerous. Barely functional.

But somehow, my disaster class was improving.

God help the academy if they ever actually get competent.

The next day, I gave them something simple.

Or so I thought.

"Alright, future cautionary tales," I said, hands behind my back. "We’re doing trap disarming."

Groans rippled across the group.

Leo raised his hand without enthusiasm. "Why do we need to learn this? We’re students, not tomb raiders."

"Because," I said, turning toward him, "you’re attending a military academy that once turned breakfast into a trap. Last week, the cafeteria waffles had fire runes embedded in them. Half the students nearly lost their eyebrows."

Felix perked up. "I thought those tasted spicy..."

"No, Felix. That was burning rubber."

They stood in a rough semi-circle as I unveiled the "field."

An assortment of very real, very active training traps—mana tripwires, delay glyphs, stun blasts, and my personal favorite: the Screaming Grate, which screamed when stepped on and occasionally insulted your fashion sense.

"Each of you will walk the field and disable at least two traps," I instructed. "No teamwork. No brute force. And no complaining."

Leo raised a hand again. "What if I scream in advance to confuse the Screaming Grate?"

"I’ll scream back. And I guarantee mine will be more traumatizing."

Mira stepped up first.

She danced through the field like she was walking into a gala—one hand trailing sparks, the other flicking out a tiny blade to cut a tripwire with surgical precision. She bent low, inspected a mana glyph, and with a quick twist, deactivated it.

I gave a single nod. "Competent. Stylish. Mildly concerning. Sit down before you start monologuing."

Next came Garrick, who accidentally triggered a pressure plate but managed to punch the trap into submission before it could activate.

"Technically disarmed," I muttered. "Though I don’t think we can count ’hit it until it stops glowing’ as a method."

"It worked," Garrick offered.

"Can’t argue with results. I can, however, be deeply disappointed by the process."

Wallace went third.

Halfway in, he pulled out a contraption from his coat that looked like a tuning fork mated with a screwdriver.

"What is that?" I asked warily.

"A disruptor. I call it the ’Boomstick.’"

"Why?"

He pressed the tip to a mana rune. The trap fizzled. Then exploded in a puff of purple smoke. Wallace flew backward ten feet and landed with a grunt.

"That’s why," he coughed.

"Noted," I said, scribbling something in my journal under Weapons Not to Approve.

Leo went next and immediately stepped on the Screaming Grate.

"Your boots don’t match your personality," it howled.

"What does that even mean?!"

"Exactly," I muttered from the sidelines.

To his credit, Leo deactivated one trap after that by flinging his boot at it.

"Was that intentional?" I asked.

"I’m choosing to believe it was," he replied.

Fair enough.

Then came Felix.

He looked like someone walking into a courtroom after forgetting his pants.

He took one careful step... then another... then tripped over his own foot and fell directly onto a mana wire.

A burst of light enveloped him, and a stun rune went off with a loud CRACK.

When the smoke cleared, Felix lay twitching.

"I think I failed," he said weakly.

"You think correctly," I replied, stepping over him. "Congratulations, you just invented a new form of magical CPR."

Cassandra joined last. Silently. Like a ghost who had grown bored with haunting and decided to grade papers instead.

She didn’t so much walk the field as glide through it. Her fingers never touched the traps directly, but the moment she came near, they shut down one by one.

Leo whispered, "Is she even human?"

"No," Wallace whispered back. "She’s an ancient regret given form."

Cassandra finished, looked at me with her usual unreadable expression, and said nothing.

"Terrifying," I replied. "Go sit."

Once the field was cleared, I gathered them around.

"You’re improving," I said. "Mostly. Felix excluded."

"Fair," Felix groaned.

"But improvement doesn’t mean survival. You think these exercises are hard? Try doing them when someone’s actively trying to murder you. Or when you’re bleeding out. Or when your best option is Garrick punching a rune and hoping it turns off."

Garrick blinked. "It won’t always work?"

"No, but I look forward to watching you try."

I dismissed them after a round of brutal conditioning sprints. Cassandra vanished like a whisper. Mira stole someone’s dagger on the way out. Felix walked into a doorframe. Wallace accidentally triggered his Boomstick again. Leo tried to escape but tripped on Garrick’s discarded gauntlet.

It was a symphony of incompetence.

And yet... somehow, it felt right.

My class. My disasters.

And somehow—just barely—they were starting to look like they might not all die horribly.

Yet.