Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 132: Outdoor mission (1)

Chapter 132: Outdoor mission (1)

The sky was too clear.

That’s never a good sign.

Clear skies meant someone was about to ruin my peace.

Right on cue, a man in a pristine black coat approached me across the training field, boots clicking like he wanted everyone to know how important he was. His face wore that classic Academy External Affairs expression: polite disdain and a permanent squint, like he was allergic to commoners.

He stopped a few paces away and held out a letter, sealed with the Academy’s wax insignia.

"Lucian Drelmont?" he asked, though he clearly already knew.

I took the envelope, turning it over once before cracking it open.

Official order.

Sanctioned.

Mandatory.

My left eye twitched.

___

Instructor Assignment Notification

By decree of Noctis Ardentis Academy, Class C is hereby authorized for external field training and independent mission activity.

Missions will be provided and reviewed by the Academy Board.

Instructor supervision required. No exceptions.

You, Lucian Drelmont, are the assigned responsible party.

Effective immediately.

Have fun.

—Academy External Affairs Office

___

The "have fun" was underlined.

I wanted to punch whoever wrote it.

The man gave me a slight bow and walked off like he’d just handed me a bouquet of flowers instead of an impending disaster.

I stared at the paper, then at my class—currently arguing over whose magic burned the practice dummies faster.

This arc.

Oh, I remembered this one.

It was supposed to be a side event in Sword of Radiance—a fun little detour where students got to feel like real adventurers for the first time.

For most classes, it was light-hearted, maybe a little dangerous. Cute bonding moments. Earn some loot. Level up.

Except, there was a 20% chance for a hidden event chain to trigger.

A 20% chance that something would go horrifically wrong.

Guess which class that always got the bugged event?

Yep.

Class C.

I folded the letter and stuffed it in my coat.

"Alright, Future Corpses!" I barked. "Gather up!"

They scrambled to me, some still panting from training.

"Did we do something wrong?" Leo asked.

"Worse," I said. "You’re being sent outside."

Julien blinked. "What, like... field trip?"

"Field mission," I corrected. "As of today, you’re officially sanctioned to take on Academy-approved assignments in the city and surrounding areas."

Mira perked up. "Like adventurers?"

"Exactly like adventurers," I said. "But with paperwork, supervision, and a much higher chance of dying from a bureaucratic oversight."

Wallace clapped. "Finally, real danger!"

"Try not to sound aroused."

Felix groaned. "Can’t we stay here? I finally learned how to not set myself on fire..."

Cassandra, ever the ghost in the group, just tilted her head. "Is this optional?"

"About as optional as gravity."

I handed out the first mission sheet—a low-risk scouting assignment near the edge of the Forest of Echoes.

They’d need to identify terrain changes, mark any mana fluxes, and report beast movement patterns.

Easy stuff. Unless the event chain triggers.

Then we’re looking at missing caravans, bandit ambushes, corrupted wildlife, and, in the worst-case scenario, a minor god bleeding into reality.

No big deal.

"You’re smiling," Mira said, eyeing me.

"Am I?"

"That’s your ’things are going to explode soon’ smile."

"I resent that."

Garrick raised a hand. "So... when do we start?"

"Tomorrow," I said. "Gear up, rest, and maybe write a will if you’re the optimistic type."

Later that night, I sat alone in my quarters, staring at the Grimoire of Patterns.

No new entries.

No warnings.

But that didn’t mean anything.

This arc was always subtle. The game never threw a red flag at you.

Not until it was too late.

I leaned back in my chair.

"All right," I muttered to no one. "Let’s see if the dice roll in our favor."

Because if they didn’t...

We were about to step into the fire.

And I was the only one holding the damn hose.

Morning came with a headache and too many voices.

Felix was panicking.

Again.

"I lost my other boot!" he shouted from the hallway.

"You’re wearing both," Mira replied flatly from the common room.

"Oh."

A pause.

"...I lost my third boot!"

I sipped my black coffee in silence. No sugar, no milk. Just bitterness and heat. Like my soul.

The students were gathered near the transport gate behind the Academy’s east wing, where assigned carriages waited to take them to the mission site. Ours? A broken-down wagon that looked like it belonged in a museum exhibit titled "Things That Shouldn’t Be Moving Anymore."

I didn’t even blink.

"This is a test," I told them. "Of your patience, expectations, and lower back strength."

Wallace opened the side hatch. The door immediately fell off.

"...I hate this," Leo whispered.

"Good," I said. "It means you’re awake."

Once everyone was loaded up—with gear, notes, and enough backup underwear for Felix to start a clothing store—we set off toward the outskirts of the Forest of Echoes.

The journey was short, but the atmosphere inside the wagon wasn’t peaceful.

Garrick was snoring.

Wallace kept muttering equations that made no sense to anyone else.

Julien and Mira were arm-wrestling over a book of cursed recipes they found in my office.

And Felix was sitting with his knees to his chest, eyes wide, holding a wooden practice sword like it would protect him from fate itself.

"So," Julien said mid-match, glancing at me, "what’s the over-under on this becoming a survival mission?"

"Fifty-fifty," I said. "Depending on how many of you ignore instructions."

"Great," Mira muttered, slamming Julien’s hand to the floorboard. "So, guaranteed disaster."

"You get used to it," I said, sipping more coffee. "Like mold."

We arrived near the Forest’s edge by midday. The air was thick with humidity and the scent of old moss. Mana signatures were weak but scattered. A perfect low-level mission area.

I pulled out the briefing scroll and handed it to Cassandra, who’d appeared silently beside me like a cryptid with a clipboard.

"Scout a five-kilometer radius, map terrain shifts, log magical residue, avoid direct combat unless necessary," I summarized.

"Understood," she said quietly and vanished into the trees.

The others looked at me.

"Well?" I said. "Move. Poke the ground. Stare at rocks. Pretend you’re useful."

"Do we split up?" Garrick asked.

"If you want to die in creative ways," I said. "Pairs only. Don’t wander. If you see a beast bigger than a housecat, run. If it talks, really run."

Felix raised his hand. "And what if it... sings?"

"Then you pray."

They spread out, half-bumbling, half-arguing, and occasionally doing something productive. I stayed behind on a hilltop, arms folded, Grimoire open at my side, watching. Waiting.

So far, nothing strange.

No shifts in mana.

No corrupted beasts.

No music.

Good.

Still... that itch behind my eyes hadn’t left. That feeling of being watched. Of a dice somewhere spinning just a little too long.

The wind shifted.

I turned toward the forest—and for a second, I thought I saw a figure in black leaning against a tree far in the distance.

Then it was gone.

This was supposed to be the easy part.

So why did it feel like the curtain had just gone up?

I shut the Grimoire.

"Clock’s ticking," I murmured.

And the real game hadn’t even started yet.