Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 145: Blueprint of madness

Chapter 145: Blueprint of madness

The next morning greeted me with two things: Wallace standing at my door like an inventor who hadn’t slept, and a blueprint that looked more like a madman’s last confession than an event plan.

"Instructor," he began with wild eyes, "I’ve done it."

"You’ve done what, exactly?" I said, carefully taking the parchment from his twitching hands.

"Designed the first leg of the Gauntlet of Glory—Obstacle Hell."

"...I already hate it."

He grinned like a child who’d just learned fire was hot after touching it. "It starts with a pit of illusory spikes, then a rotating platform over water, followed by a collapsing bridge that leads to the gauntlet walls, which randomly shift position every fifteen seconds."

I blinked.

"You do realize most of our students aren’t trained assassins, right?"

"Correct, which is why I added the flame rings—motivational, not lethal."

"Wallace."

"Yes, Professor?"

"This is why you don’t have friends."

"I have blueprints," he countered proudly.

I stared at the diagram. To his credit, it was innovative. It also had several notations with the words "should survive" next to deadly-looking parts. I scribbled out half of them and handed it back.

"No actual fire. No poisoned spikes. No hallucinogenic gas."

"Compromises... fine," he muttered.

By the time I made it to the training field, Mira was enchanting a rock to float in the air. Several other stones were orbiting it like moons.

"Is this your puzzle challenge?" I asked.

She smiled like a cat with cream on its whiskers. "No. This is just practice. I figured our puzzle challenge should involve logic, teamwork, and moderate mental anguish."

"You’re being... tame."

"Because the real suffering comes when they overthink."

"I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared."

"You’re always scared," she replied cheerfully.

Meanwhile, Garrick and Julien had commandeered the dueling ring. Julien had turned it into a miniature coliseum and was shouting at poor Leo, who was trying to dodge swinging foam maces that dropped from the ceiling.

"This teaches what exactly?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Situational awareness!" Julien shouted.

Leo, still dodging, yelled, "I don’t even know what situation I’m in!"

"Exactly!"

Felix was at the sidelines taking notes with a bandage on his forehead. He saw me and groaned.

"I’ve been hit by seven different traps today."

"Good," I said. "You’re learning."

"Learning what?"

"Not to trust your classmates."

I did a circuit of the area, noting the wild enthusiasm and even wilder chaos unfolding. Despite the madness, everyone was working. Mira had rigged a pressure plate puzzle. Wallace was wiring a rotating platform. Garrick and Julien were training the others in controlled mock battles. Even Leo, despite his complaints, was helping Felix test reaction-based challenges with surprisingly good timing.

And Cassandra?

I found her sitting under a tree, watching everything like a silent director.

"You’re not joining the prep?" I asked.

She didn’t look away. "I’m observing."

"Planning anything?"

"I’ll handle the entrance. First impressions matter."

I narrowed my eyes. "You’re not going to make it haunted, are you?"

"...Define haunted."

"Cassandra."

"No ghosts. Just ambiance."

I sighed.

They were out of control.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Later that evening, I submitted the official Gauntlet of Glory plan to the academy board. The attendant who came to pick it up stared at the paperwork with a mixture of horror and curiosity.

"This is... elaborate," he said.

"It’s supervised," I assured him.

"Half these diagrams are color-coded deathtraps."

"They’re training tools."

"...You’re insane."

"And they’re improving," I said, walking past him.

As I headed back to my quarters, I passed a student trying to dislodge himself from a magically sticky net and another screaming as Wallace tested a timer-based firecracker trap.

All in a day’s work.

The first trial run of the Gauntlet of Glory began the way all legendary catastrophes do: with optimism, poor judgment, and someone shouting, "This’ll be fine!"

Spoiler: It was not fine.

I stood on the sidelines with my arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold as the brave—or stupid—members of Class C stepped up to run the thing they designed. Around the field, instructors from other classes stood with varying degrees of concern, amusement, and insurance forms probably tucked in their robes.

"I thought this was a student festival," one instructor muttered. "Not a military bootcamp."

I didn’t look at him. "This is my idea of a festival."

He edged away.

"Alright, gremlins," I called to my class, "You built this monstrosity. Now survive it."

Julien was the first to step up. Naturally. His confidence was legendary, and his ability to fail spectacularly even more so.

The spinning platforms greeted him with dignity—until one shifted mid-leap and sent him flailing into the moat.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" he shouted, floundering.

Mira’s voice echoed from the other side. "You missed the timing! It was clearly marked!"

"YOUR MARKING WAS IN RUNE!"

"It builds literacy!"

Felix was next. He hesitated in front of the puzzle floor Wallace had rigged with pressure plates and illusions.

"I—I don’t want to die again," he muttered.

"You didn’t die last time, Felix," I reminded him.

"You said brain damage wasn’t death!"

He took a breath and leapt forward... and immediately triggered a gust rune that flung him sideways into a foam wall. His scream echoed as he slid down like a poorly thrown pancake.

Wallace cheered. "The system works!"

"You nearly concussed a man," Garrick growled.

"Character building!"

Leo stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Okay, I’ve watched everyone. I’ve got the timing. I’m ready."

He made it through the pressure plates.

He ducked the swinging pendulums.

He leapt across the pit.

And then the glitter trap activated.

A deluge of pink, shimmering powder exploded into the air, coating him in sparkling glory.

"WHY?!" he shrieked.

"It’s festive," Mira offered.

"It’s humiliating!"

"Now you’re shiny and sad," I commented. "A perfect mascot."

Even Cassandra let out a small snort.

By the time the mock duel arena began—where Garrick had set up illusionary dummies to mimic unpredictable enemies—only three had survived the Gauntlet. Barely.

Julien had climbed out of the moat and immediately re-entered via a swinging plank. Felix was hiding behind a crate. Wallace was taking notes on everyone’s failure like a sports analyst. And Cassandra had already set up a fog machine at the entrance without telling anyone.

That’s when I was shoved into the spotlight.

"Now, let’s see you try, Professor," Julien grinned, soaked and bruised but still cocky.

"Yeah!" Leo added, still shimmering. "Let’s see you glitter, old man!"

"...You want to challenge me?"

A chorus of "YES" rose from the chaotic children I unfortunately called students.

Fine.

I cracked my neck and stepped forward.

Wallace leaned toward Garrick. "This’ll either be majestic or catastrophic."

It was majestic.

I ghosted through the platforms, danced across the shifting walls, avoided every trap—even the glitter. Felix swore the rune just didn’t go off.

I activated Shadow Step and reappeared past the fake pendulums, landing with a casual shrug.

"Oh come on!" Julien groaned.

"Teach us your ways!" Felix yelled.

"No," I said. "Suffer and learn."

By the end of the trial run, Class C was battered, glittery, mildly traumatized, and exhilarated.

They had teamwork. They had chaos. They had the best booth on campus.

And they were going to win.

God help everyone else.