Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 141: An ordinary disaster

Chapter 141: An ordinary disaster

The gates of Noctis Ardentis rose in the distance, their spires reaching into the sky like obsidian thorns. It should’ve felt like home.

It didn’t.

My boots scraped the stone as I led Class C past the threshold. The guards nodded us through without question. Apparently, word of our "mission" had already spread.

Not surprising. When a team goes out and sends back a "do not enter, possibly cursed" report, people tend to whisper.

"Professor," Julien said, walking beside me, "should we—uh—polish the truth?"

"You want to lie to the same people who sent us down there unprepared?"

He shrugged. "Might keep them off our backs."

I didn’t answer.

We moved straight to the External Operations Hall. Cold marble. Cold faces. The kind of place that looked down on you without saying a word.

An official waited at the top of the steps, parchment in hand and impatience in his eyes.

"Instructor Drelmont. Class C."

"Congratulations. You know how to read."

He didn’t appreciate that.

"This way," he said stiffly, turning and marching down the corridor.

We followed.

Inside the debrief chamber sat two men I didn’t recognize and one I did—Instructor Gale, that smug vulture from the drinking lounge. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes said enough.

Still bitter. Still watching.

I stood before them. "Lucian Drelmont. Class C. Reporting back from the Black Stone Mission."

"Report submitted and read," one of the men said. "Your findings were... unorthodox."

"You mean accurate."

"Unverified."

I smiled without warmth. "Would you like to go down there yourself and verify it?"

He didn’t answer.

Instead, the other man spoke. "There’s concern regarding your handling of the incident. You sealed the mine?"

"With a barrier rune, yes."

"Without approval?"

"Without hesitation."

The silence that followed was thick enough to drown in.

Finally, Gale leaned forward. "Why didn’t you retrieve the artifact fragment?"

"Because I like living."

I let the words hang there.

"You don’t understand what that thing was," I added, voice low. "And if you think sending another squad will solve it, be ready to bury them."

A pause.

Then Gale smirked. "Still as dramatic as ever, Drelmont."

I leaned forward, elbows on the table. "And you’re still under the delusion that paperwork will stop monsters."

We stared at each other.

Eventually, the older official cleared his throat. "Fine. You’ll submit a written report. You’re dismissed."

I didn’t move. "What about my class?"

"They’re fine. Your decision not to endanger them further is noted. But there will be follow-up evaluations."

Of course there would.

I nodded once and turned.

Class C waited in the hall, some sitting, some standing. Felix was trying to balance his staff on his nose.

He dropped it the moment he saw me.

"Well?" Mira asked.

"We lived," I said. "That’s good enough."

Cassandra tilted her head. "They won’t leave it alone."

"No," I said. "They won’t."

And whatever was buried in that mine?

It wasn’t going to stay buried for long.

We weren’t back five hours before the academy shoved us back into routine like nothing happened.

Lectures resumed. Training resumed. So did the headaches.

Felix dropped his staff again.

Clang.

"Felix."

"I-It slipped, Professor—"

"That staff has slipped from your hands more than your spine slipped from your back during that spider incident. Pick it up. Again."

He scrambled, knocking over Wallace in the process.

"Oi!"

"Sorry—!"

Julien chuckled. "Welcome home, huh?"

"If this is home," I muttered, "I want to move."

We were on one of the open practice fields. No quests. No death pits. Just students, sun, and the sound of repeated failure.

"Leo," I called. "What are you doing?"

He blinked. "Practicing, sir?"

"You’re supposed to cast a barrier, not a glimmering apology. That thing couldn’t stop a sneeze."

"I-I tried—!"

"Try harder. Garrick—good block. At least someone’s taking this seriously."

He gave a proud grin.

Then tripped over a root.

"Never mind."

Mira had her arms crossed as she watched the chaos from the shade. "Remind me why we’re doing this again?"

"Because after that cave incident, half of them are flinching at shadows and the other half think they’re invincible."

Julien sidled up beside me. "And you?"

"I think I deserve a drink. But I’ll settle for bullying Felix until he figures out how to use his damn staff."

A high-pitched yell echoed across the field.

Felix had tried spinning his weapon.

And smacked himself in the face.

Again.

I sighed and rubbed my temples. "You ever wonder if the gods made him as a joke?"

Wallace raised a hand. "I thought we weren’t allowed to insult religion, Professor."

"I’m not insulting religion. I’m implying Felix is divine punishment."

The rest of the class laughed. Even Cassandra, distant as always, cracked the ghost of a smile.

That was rare.

The breeze was warm. The sky open. For a brief, surreal moment, everything felt... okay.

No cryptic names.

No death traps.

Just dumb kids and a field full of bruises.

I’d take it.

But it wouldn’t last.

It never did.

"Alright, line up!" I barked, clapping my hands once. "Time for the individual duels."

Groans echoed across the field like a choir of suffering.

Julien stretched with a grin. "Finally. I was starting to get bored."

"Good," I said. "Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll sprain something."

He winked. "You’ll miss me if I do."

"I’ll miss your constant need to monologue before every fight. Pick a partner, Smartass."

Julien stepped forward, only for Garrick to immediately slap a hand on his shoulder. "Me."

"Oh?" Julien turned, smiling wider. "Trying to avenge your pride?"

Garrick cracked his neck. "Trying to silence your mouth."

"Get in line, big guy."

As they squared up, I turned to the rest. "Pairs. Now. No whining."

Mira and Cassandra had both begged off today—"paperwork," they said, but I knew Mira was nursing a bruised rib and Cassandra just didn’t feel like dealing with the boys’ nonsense. So that left the disaster troupe.

Felix stood awkwardly near Wallace, who already had a crude-looking magical contraption strapped to his forearm.

I didn’t even ask.

"Felix, you’re paired with Wallace. Try not to cry."

"C-cry? Why would I cry?!"

"You’re shaking."

"No I’m—AH!"

Wallace activated his device and launched a small puff of glittering sparks that fizzled mid-air.

Felix flinched and fell backward.

I stared.

"Wallace. What the hell was that?"

"A flash distraction module, Professor."

"It looked like a fairy sneezed."

He frowned. "It works in theory—"

"So does Felix, and look how that turned out."

"Hey!"

"Shut it, Spineless."

While the students got into their positions, I moved behind the dueling lines, observing.

Julien danced around Garrick like a cat toying with a dog.

"Your footwork’s slow," he teased.

"Keep talking," Garrick growled, swinging a heavy blow.

Julien parried just in time, but the force sent him skidding. "Okay, that one almost hurt."

"Good."

Wallace’s gadget had caught fire.

"Wallace!"

"It’s not supposed to do that!"

Felix panicked and tried to douse the flames with his cloak, which only made it worse.

"Stop, stop—STOP! That’s enchanted cloth, you lunatic!"

A puff of black smoke billowed.

I sighed. "I’m going to kill them."

Leo, off to the side, was arguing with Garrick about a past loss. "You cheated, you slab of muscle!"

"Maybe train harder, Pessimist."

"You don’t even know how to use a wand!"

"I don’t need one!"

I blew the whistle. "Time!"

Every duel ended in varying degrees of failure. Julien was panting but victorious. Garrick scowled like he’d been robbed. Wallace was trying to rebuild his scorched contraption. Felix was—somehow—covered in soot and feathers.

"Where did you even get feathers?" I asked.

"I—I don’t know..."

I stared. Then turned away.

"Alright, that’s enough chaos for today. Cool down and don’t touch anything. Especially you, Wallace."

He saluted.

Sarcastically.

I let it slide.

We were still standing. No injuries—well, minor burns and emotional trauma excluded. Not bad, all things considered.

As they limped off toward the dorms, I stayed behind a moment.

The sun was setting over the training fields, golden light washing over the academy walls.

Just a quiet day.

A break in the storm.

Gods knew we needed it.

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