Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 136: Trouble magnet

Chapter 136: Trouble magnet

We returned to the nearest outpost-town with our packs heavier and our minds buzzing.

The students were buzzing too—for different reasons. Garrick kept asking if he could punch the gauntlet to see if it punched back. Mira claimed she was "too cursed" already and didn’t want to go near it. Felix kept glancing at it like it might explode at any second. I didn’t tell him it probably could.

Wallace, naturally, hadn’t stopped muttering theories since we left the ruin.

"Runic compression, Instructor. That gauntlet wasn’t just storing power—it was gathering it. Layered mana lattices like that? It’s pre-Arcane Age. Maybe even pre-Collapse."

"Congratulations," I said. "You just made it even more terrifying. Take a prize."

He blinked. "There’s a prize?"

"Yeah. You get to carry the cursed glove."

"I decline."

"Too bad. I already stuffed it in your bag."

He checked. Screamed. Ran.

Mira sighed. "Do we have to keep him?"

"No, but no one else wants him either."

We reached the town gates around sundown. It wasn’t large—just a holding post used by passing adventurers and supply lines for the academy. But it was enough for what I needed: a roof, some food, and access to a long-forgotten library full of restricted books probably forgotten by everyone but spiders.

I handed the academy writ to the guild representative, a thin man who looked like he hadn’t slept in three days. He scanned the document, then glanced at my group of half-dusty, half-laughing disasters.

"You’re Class C."

"Yes."

"You’re... Lucian Drelmont."

"Correct."

"Do you... hate yourself?"

"Deeply."

He nodded like that explained everything and waved us through.

We got rooms at the inn—three coppers a head. Not bad. I paid out of pocket, because Class C still hadn’t earned a single coin for the academy. That’d change soon. Hopefully.

After a quick dinner (Felix cried over soup again, something about "salt content" and "it tastes like home"), I found myself wandering the back alleys toward the old part of town. The part where scholars, cultists, and very drunk librarians tended to hang out.

And that’s when I saw it.

A small shop wedged between two crumbling stone buildings. No name. No signboard. Just a flickering lantern hanging from a nail.

It hadn’t been there last time.

I stepped in anyway.

Inside, the smell of dust and old ink hit me like a wall. Shelves rose too high for the space they occupied, and shadows clung to the corners like they were too lazy to leave.

An old man sat behind the counter, asleep. A book lay open in front of him, but the pages were blank.

Except for one word.

Caspian.

Again.

I blinked. The name faded.

New words took its place.

Do not take the gauntlet back to the academy.

I snapped the book shut.

The old man didn’t stir. His breathing was too slow. Too even.

I left.

When I returned to the inn, Mira was on the roof, watching the stars. Cassandra sat beside her, cross-legged, quiet as always. The others were asleep—or pretending to be.

I sat down, back against the wall.

"What’s the plan?" Mira asked.

"Same as always," I muttered. "Make sure none of you die. Figure out what I’ve walked into. Try not to get expelled."

Cassandra glanced at me. "And the gauntlet?"

I paused. Looked down at my hands.

"Let’s see if we can find a way to destroy it," I said.

Neither of them believed me.

Hell, I didn’t believe me either.

But saying it helped.

Morning came too early, as always.

I dragged myself downstairs with the grace of a man who hadn’t punched a student in three days and was starting to feel itchy about it. Mira and Cassandra were already up—Mira halfway through an unholy breakfast involving eggs, pickled onions, and something that might have once been a frog. Cassandra was reading. Probably war crimes disguised as poetry.

The others trickled in.

Felix, of course, was the last to arrive and the loudest.

"I HAD A NIGHTMARE," he announced. "WALLACE WAS A GOLEM AND KEPT TRYING TO INFUSE ME WITH EXPLOSIVE RUNES."

Wallace didn’t even look up from his notes. "You dream of greatness, I see."

"Greatness shouldn’t come with a countdown timer!"

"Everything has a countdown timer if you believe hard enough."

I sipped my tea and wondered how expensive mind magic surgery was.

"Alright," I said, slamming a fork into the table to get their attention. "Today, we’re doing missions."

Leo raised a hand. "You mean like actual missions? Outside town?"

"No, Leo," I said flatly. "We’re going to roleplay delivering letters to each other until you cry. Yes. Real missions."

He sank down in his chair.

The town guild was still groggy when we arrived, but a clerk was waiting for us with a scroll list already prepared.

"These have been pre-approved for student participation," he said, pushing the list forward. "You’ll need to select one under your instructor’s supervision."

I scanned the parchment.

Mission Board: Student Access Tier – Green

Investigate Missing Cargo – Route 4 (low risk)

Subjugate Wild Razorboars – Western Hills (moderate risk)

Guard Local Caravan – Destination: Karmil Outpost (moderate risk)

Herb Gathering – Silent Thicket (unknown risk; note: area reports occasional beast sightings)

Clean Sewage Channel – DO NOT PICK THIS, EVER

Naturally, everyone pointed to the Razorboars quest.

"Of course," I muttered. "Boars."

"Better than sewage," Garrick said.

"I’d rather fight a hundred cursed spirits than smell Felix gagging for six hours."

"HEY."

They argued. I signed. We got the quest.

Three hours later, we were standing in a clearing of broken trees, looking at a very large Razorboar nest.

Felix was already in a tree. Not climbing. Just in the tree. Upside down.

"WHY DOES IT HAVE ARMOR?!"

"That’s bone plating," Wallace muttered, sketching it with one hand and holding up a barrier rune with the other. "Fascinating evolutionary adaptation."

"IT HAS HORNS TOO—WHY DOES A PIG HAVE HORNS?!"

"Because the world hates you."

The lead boar snorted, pawed the ground, and let out a low growl.

I stepped forward, sword in hand, and looked back at my beloved misfits.

"Alright, Class C," I called, "this is what we call practical education. Anyone dies, I’ll flunk you out of spite."

Julien grinned. "Does that include you, Professor?"

"If I die, I’m haunting all of you. Especially Felix."

"WHY ME?!"

"You’ve got the most guilt capacity."

Then I activated my ignition sword. It lit up with a hungry hiss.

The Razorboars charged.

And chaos began.