Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 134: Outdoor mission (2)

Chapter 134: Outdoor mission (2)

The Forest of Echoes had a strange habit of making you feel like you were never alone, even when you were. Every whisper of the leaves, every creak of the branches overhead—it all echoed back like the woods were listening.

And maybe, they were.

I walked alongside the trail Mira and Julien had gone down earlier, keeping a respectable distance. The Grimoire of Patterns buzzed faintly in my mind, but no new patterns were surfacing. Just static. Noise. Uncertainty.

Typical.

I glanced behind me. Felix was crouched near a patch of glowing mushrooms, eyes wide.

"What did I say about strange flora?" I asked.

"That they’re probably poisonous and might explode," he said.

"And?"

"...I should not lick them?"

"Correct. And yet here you are, practically breathing them in."

"I was curious!"

I sighed and pulled him back by the collar before he turned into a cautionary tale. "Congratulations. You’re now demoted to Mushroom Decoy. Go stand ten feet behind me and don’t touch anything glowing."

He saluted. I could almost respect the commitment to failure.

Elsewhere, Mira and Julien were making decent progress. They’d managed to map the mana flow in their section and found an abandoned campsite. Nothing ominous yet. Julien even suggested it might’ve belonged to an old ranger.

Mira, ever the optimist, guessed "serial killer."

Their dynamic hadn’t changed.

Wallace and Leo, meanwhile, were lost.

Again.

I had explicitly told them not to wander.

So naturally, Wallace convinced Leo to "follow the leyline deviation" because he had a "gut feeling" that would lead to treasure.

All it led to was a beehive.

Leo came back with twelve stings and a deep distrust of "magic intuition."

Mid-afternoon, the class regrouped at the hilltop. Cassandra returned last, dropping a small bundle of paper into my hand—detailed terrain notes, mana anomalies, two strange sigils etched into rocks.

"You saw no one?" I asked.

"No," she said. "But something saw us."

Perfect.

The phrase you never want to hear in the woods.

"Well then," I said, "we’ve gathered maps, bruises, and trauma. All in a day’s work."

"Do we camp here?" Garrick asked.

"Eventually. But first—"

A loud shriek cut me off. Not a beast. Not a student.

Something... else.

It came from deeper inside. That unnatural echo.

Everyone went quiet.

I narrowed my eyes, facing the trees.

I remembered this part.

The side quest that only triggers 20% of the time.

The one that could go very, very wrong.

Of course it had to trigger now.

Because of course it did.

"New plan," I muttered. "Stay behind me. Weapons ready. And Felix?"

"Y-Yes?"

"If you touch anything that makes a noise, you’re bait."

The forest grew quiet again—but it wasn’t a peaceful silence. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your ears, thick and deliberate, like the whole world was holding its breath.

Class C gathered in a loose formation behind me. Garrick stood up front, shield raised, eyes scanning. Cassandra was already casting something under her breath, fingers twitching in practiced gestures. Mira’s hand hovered near her pouch of cursed trinkets. Julien had his sword drawn and a half-smirk on his face, but even he was tense.

I drew my own weapon slowly.

The Ignition Blade hummed faintly at my touch—subtle, but there. The forest watched.

"This might be nothing," I said. "Could be a mana echo or a beast call."

"You don’t believe that," Mira said.

"No," I admitted, "but I lie to children to keep morale up."

Something moved through the underbrush, quick and low. Too fast to catch a full glance, but enough for Cassandra’s eyes to snap toward it.

Julien stepped forward.

"Let me—"

"No," I said quickly. "Whatever this is, it’s watching. It didn’t attack immediately. It’s testing us."

"I hate being tested," Leo muttered.

"You fail most of them," I replied.

The Grimoire of Patterns buzzed again, a soft flicker of heat in the back of my mind. No new spells, but the feeling was back—that instinct that something was about to shift.

Then it happened.

Not an attack.

Not a trap.

A voice.

Clear, cold, feminine. Distant and close all at once.

"You brought them here, Lucian Drelmont."

The students froze.

My heart skipped.

"...You know my name?" I said aloud.

No answer.

Instead, the sigils Cassandra had drawn earlier—those carved into rocks—lit up with pale white light, one by one, like some sort of forgotten system waking from slumber.

The air warped. A ripple, as if the space between trees had become liquid.

Then from the space between two trees—something stepped out.

A figure.

Wearing old dueling leathers. No face under the hood. Just a mask of porcelain, cracked and humming with mana.

A rapier hung loosely in her grip, tip dragging across the ground. Her presence wasn’t loud—but it was heavy.

Julien swallowed. "That’s... that’s the Phantom Duelist, isn’t it?"

I said nothing.

Because I remembered now.

A hidden miniboss. Optional. Usually doesn’t appear unless you explore all the sigils.

And always triggered a one-on-one duel.

It didn’t matter how many students I had.

This wasn’t their fight.

I stepped forward, blade low, fire mana pulsing slowly.

"I take it you’re not here to chat?"

The mask tilted.

"Prove your right to lead them."

Of course.

Of course it was that version of the quest.

I cracked my neck.

Then turned to the class. "Nobody interferes. This thing kills anyone who does."

Felix immediately took three steps back.

I pointed my blade toward the Duelist.

"Fine. Let’s dance, phasma."

And just like that, the forest blurred—and she was already lunging.

The Phantom Duelist didn’t hesitate. No dramatic charge, no flare of magic—just the clean, unblinking precision of a killer used to cutting down her target in a single stroke.

I barely got my blade up.

Steel shrieked against whatever spectral alloy her rapier was made of. Sparks danced between us. My arms screamed from the impact, feet digging into the earth as I slid half a meter back.

She didn’t follow up.

No.

She waited.

Poised, blade low again, head cocked slightly—as if studying me.

Or measuring.

I tightened my grip. "Cute. You hit harder than most B-rankers. You sure you’re not overqualified for a ghost gig?"

No answer. Just that silent pressure again. She lunged.

I moved with instinct.

Ignition.

My blade flared—heat surging through the air as fire wrapped around the edge. I stepped left and struck, the arc sweeping through where her ribs should’ve been. She twisted, just enough, and my blade kissed nothing but air.

Her counter came instantly. A flick toward my side, almost lazy.

I barely dodged.

Pain bloomed across my ribs where her rapier grazed me. Not deep—but the chill that followed was wrong.

"Damn..." I hissed. "Ghost blades. Of course."

Behind me, I heard Cassandra cast a barrier—thin, but enough to keep the students from rushing in. Good.

"Come on then," I muttered, voice low. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

The Grimoire of Patterns flared again—no new spell, but... the rhythm of her strikes. Three forward. One retreat. Cross-slash follow-up. Short feint. Again.

I started to see it.

Not perfectly. Not clearly.

But enough to adjust.

I countered her next thrust with a deflect-and-pivot from Split-Style. Her blade slid past me, and I returned a shallow cut across her shoulder—if ghosts even had shoulders.

She stepped back. Paused.

That same slow tilt of her head.

Then something in the air shifted.

Her mask... cracked.

A spiderweb fracture forming down the porcelain, light leaking from it.

Then her voice came again—low and layered, like a dozen whispers under one.

"You begin to learn."

I smiled grimly. "I’ve always been a fast learner."

"Then survive."

She moved again—and this time, the forest moved with her.

Every shadow deepened. My own flickered unnaturally. The ground under us dulled, and the world blurred.

Shadow realm. Partial shift.

This wasn’t a duel anymore.

This was punishment.

I reached deep—very deep—and let my mana surge. Ignition roared to life, the flame along my blade brightening into searing gold. The pattern was in my head now, not clean, but getting there.

I struck back.

Once.

Twice.

I bled.

But she staggered.

And then I found the rhythm.

I didn’t need to win.

I just needed to survive long enough.

Fifteen minutes later, I dropped to a knee.

Blood soaked my side. My arms felt like jelly. My mana reserves scraped the bottom of the barrel.

But she didn’t strike again.

She stood five meters away, untouched, unreadable. The fracture in her mask spread fully now—glowing veins of white light humming through the cracks.

Then she spoke.

"You will do."

She stepped back.

And vanished.

The forest returned to normal. Shadows receded. The air softened. Birds chirped.

And I collapsed on my back with a groan.

Julien ran over. "Holy crap, are you—"

"Shut up and get me a mana tonic before I start screaming."