Villainous Instructor at the Academy-Chapter 12: Runic Studies

I woke up to the worst headache of my life.

Or at least, that's what I would've said if I had actually been drunk. Instead, I just felt stiff from pretending to be unconscious for so long. I cracked open an eye. Dim light filtered through the curtains. My room was still the same mess I left it in. No signs of intruders, assassins, or angry instructors. So far, so good.

I sat up slowly, rolling my shoulders. Then I checked the system log.

___

<[System Log Updated]>

— Reward Received: [Book Of Alchemical Cuisine] & [Get Away Ticket].

___

I squinted at the message. A book and a... what, a ticket?

Alchemical Cuisine was one of the useless mechanics in sword of radiance Just like rune carving, but it had it's own merits to it For one, it let players cook food with magical properties—if they didn't mess it up. Unlike normal alchemy or cooking, which had set formulas and reliable effects, Alchemical Cuisine was a gamble. Even with a recipe, the final result depended on cooking methods, ingredient quality, and the chef's luck.

Some dishes gave powerful buffs. Others turned you into a frog.

I glanced at the book in my system inventory.

___

[Book of Alchemical Cuisine]

Type: Enchanted Book.

Rank: Instructor Grade.

Effect: A collection of forgotten recipes, some practical, some absurd. Use at your own risk.

___

That last part felt like a warning.

Still, it might be useful. If this world followed Sword of Radiance's mechanics, I could potentially make food that boosted mana regeneration, enhanced reflexes, or even provided temporary elemental resistances. Sure, the side effects could be bad, but with enough testing...

I sighed. "Yeah, because I totally have time to experiment with cursed omelets."

I set the book aside and turned to the other reward.

___

[Get Away Ticket]

Type: Consumable

Effect: Grants the user a free pass in most situations. Can be used to avoid punishment, escape trouble, or manipulate outcomes in their favor. Activation is automatic when the user desires an out.

___

I blinked.

That... sounded way better than just teleportation.

If I got caught slacking? Get Away Ticket.

If a noble kid tried to challenge me to a duel? Get Away Ticket.

If some higher-up wanted to punish me for my "drunken antics"? Get Away Ticket.

It was basically a cheat card for avoiding consequences. As long as I had this, I could push my luck further than normal—maybe even test the limits of what I could get away with in this academy.

I was already thinking of ways to abuse it when—

Knock. Knock.

"Lucian, wake up." Roderick shouted.

I groaned. Right. Class.

"Go away," I muttered.

The door swung open anyway.

I blinked. "I locked that."

Roderick crossed his arms. "It was already busted when I got here."

Gregor. That idiot must've broken it last night.

"You've got class," Roderick said. "Hurry up."

I sighed and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My body still felt a little stiff, but nothing seemed broken. Good enough.

Roderick leaned against the doorframe, watching me like a disappointed parent. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," I muttered, rubbing my face. "I try my best."

He didn't laugh.

Right.

I might've overdone it last night. To the rest of the instructors, I was probably that guy now—the reckless fool who got hammered on his first night and needed to be dragged back to his quarters. The fact that it was all an act didn't really matter. My reputation had already taken a hit.

I stretched, feeling a few joints pop. "What time is it?"

"Late."

That got my attention. I glanced at the window again. The light wasn't as dim as I first thought.

"Define 'late,'" I said slowly.

Roderick sighed. "Class starts in ten minutes."

Ah.

I shot up immediately, nearly tripping over a stack of books as I grabbed my coat.

"Ten minutes?! Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

"I did," Roderick said flatly. "Twice."

I had no memory of that.

Whatever. I didn't have time to think about it.

I threw on my coat, shoved the [Book of Alchemical Cuisine] into my drawer for later, and bolted for the door.

Only to stop.

Gregor broke my lock.

"...How am I supposed to keep my room safe now?" I muttered.

"Not my problem," Roderick said, already walking away. "Five minutes left, by the way."

I cursed under my breath and ran after him.

Class C was waiting. I had no idea what kind of nonsense they'd throw at me today.

I rushed down the hallways, barely avoiding a collision with a half-awake student carrying a stack of books.

"Watch it!" they yelped.

"Then watch me," I shot back, not slowing down.

Five minutes left. No time to be polite.

The classrooms were located in the main building, a massive gothic structure with high ceilings and enchanted chandeliers that adjusted their brightness depending on the time of day. Normally, I'd take my time getting there—keep up the reputation of a lazy, incompetent instructor—but after last night's stunt, I couldn't afford to push my luck.

I reached the classroom door just as the academy bell rang.

Then I paused.

The classroom was too quiet.

Class C was never quiet.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my coat, and pushed the door open.

And immediately regretted it.

The students were all staring at me. No talking. No whispering. No bickering. Just silent, unified attention.

I froze.

This was unnatural.

"...What?" I said.

Julien, the ringleader of mischief, gave me a lazy grin. "Nothing. Just wondering if our dear instructor still has a hangover."

Mira smirked. "You did put on quite a performance last night."

Ah.

So that's what this was about.

They were waiting for me to stumble, to confirm the rumors that their instructor was an irresponsible drunk.

Well, joke's on them. I was perfectly sober.

I stepped forward, letting my boots click against the stone floor. "Alright, future disappointments, since you're all so eager to focus today, let's see how much you actually learned from last class."

That got a reaction.

Felix groaned. Leo muttered something under his breath. Wallace started scribbling frantically like he was reviewing last-minute notes.

Good.

I strolled over to my desk, leaning against it with crossed arms. "Last class, we covered the basics of battlefield rune applications. Someone remind me—what's the fundamental rule when carving a combat rune?"

Silence.

Then—

"Don't mess up," Garrick said.

I stared at him. "...Wow. Incredible. Truly the peak of academic excellence."

He frowned. "What? It's true."

I sighed. "Yes, technically correct, but about as useful as saying 'don't die' in a sword fight. Try again."

Mira raised a hand. "Carving runes mid-battle requires speed and precision. A single mistake can either nullify the rune or cause unintended effects."

I pointed at her. "Better. And what do we call runes that go wrong?"

"Wild Runes," Julien answered.

"And what happens if you use one?"

"Depends," he said with a smirk. "Could get a mana backlash, could explode, could summon an angry ghost. Really just a roll of the dice."

"Exactly," I said, straightening up. "And yet, idiots still try it. Why?"

"Because most people are idiots?"

I grinned. "Correct. And what do we say about idiots on the battlefield?"

Julien's grin widened. "They're future corpses."

"See?" I gestured. "You're all learning."

A few students chuckled. The tense atmosphere from earlier faded, and just like that, the class felt normal again.

I let out an internal sigh of relief. I was not about to let a bunch of teenagers get the upper hand on me.

"Alright," I said. "Since you all seem so confident, today's lesson is theory."

A ripple of relief passed through the classroom. Some students even cheered.

That alone made me narrow my eyes.

"...Why are you happy?" I asked slowly.

Julien grinned. "Because it's theory. No more running, dodging, or getting punched."

Felix nodded. "A break from near-death training sounds like a gift."

I rolled my shoulders. "You say that now, but let's see if you're still celebrating by the end of class."

Leo groaned. "Oh, come on. How bad can it be?"

I smiled.

It was the kind of smile that made Felix pale instantly. "Oh no."

Mira smirked. "Oh yes."

I turned to the blackboard, picking up a piece of chalk. "Alright, listen up. If you think theory means a free period, you're sorely mistaken."

I scrawled a single word onto the board:

" Fundamentals of Runic Studies "

I turned back to the class, my grin widening as I saw their faces shift from relief to wary suspicion. Good. They were catching on.

"Since you all seem so confident in your theoretical knowledge, let's make this interesting," I said, dusting my hands off. "A little game, if you will."

Julien leaned back, arms crossed. "A game?"

I nodded. "That's right. We'll call it Spot the Disaster."

Wallace groaned. "That doesn't sound like a real game."

"It is now," I said. "Here's how it works. I'll give you a scenario, and you have to tell me exactly what went wrong. Bonus points if you can come up with a way to fix it before everything goes to hell."

Felix raised a hand. "Are the scenarios real?"

Leo muttered, "So, not us."

I pretended not to hear that.

I turned to the board, writing down the first scenario.

Scenario One:

A swordsman tries to carve a reinforcement rune onto his blade mid-battle. The rune activates, but instead of strengthening his weapon, his sword crumbles to dust in his hands. Why?

Mira was the first to speak up. "Faulty carving technique?"

"Close," I said. "But not quite the root cause."

Wallace adjusted his glasses. "He used an incompatible rune on a weak weapon. The reinforcement effect overloaded the structure, causing it to disintegrate."

I snapped my fingers. "Bingo. Weapons have their own durability limits. You can't just slap a reinforcement rune on a rusted blade and expect it to turn into a legendary artifact. All he did was accelerate his own demise."

Felix winced. "That poor guy."

"He lived," I said. "Barely. Next scenario."

I wrote another one.

Scenario Two:

A mage carves a rune of fire into his staff, hoping to increase his spell's potency. Instead of casting a fireball, the staff catches fire and explodes. What went wrong?

Julien chuckled. "Too much mana input?"

"That would just cause backlash," I said. "This one's trickier."

Mira's eyes narrowed. "The rune's placement was wrong?"

I gestured for her to continue.

She leaned forward. "If he carved it too close to the staff's core, the rune might've interfered with the internal enchantments. Instead of amplifying his magic, it created a feedback loop."

"Correct," I said, pointing at her. "Mages love enchanting their gear, but most of them don't actually understand enchantments. Layering runes over existing spells without checking compatibility is like throwing oil on a fire—sometimes literally."

Leo shook his head. "Why do people even risk this?"

"Desperation, arrogance, stupidity," I listed off. "Pick your favorite. Next scenario."

By the time I reached the fifth one, the class was fully engaged. Even Felix, who usually looked one bad day away from quitting, was paying attention.

I set the chalk down. "Alright. Final challenge. One of you will come up with a scenario, and the rest of the class will diagnose the disaster."

Silence.

Then, to my surprise, Cassandra spoke.

"A knight carves a lightning rune onto his armor, hoping to resist electric attacks. Instead, every time he moves, he gets shocked. Why?"

The class went quiet.

Julien whistled. "Damn, that's a good one."

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Wallace frowned. "Maybe the rune was carved incorrectly, so instead of resisting electricity, it conducted it?"

Cassandra nodded. "Exactly. Instead of insulating him, the rune turned his armor into a lightning rod."

I clapped my hands. "See? Now you're thinking. These are the kind of mistakes that get people killed if they don't know what they're doing."

The students exchanged glances, looking just a little more uneasy.

I smiled. "Now why is runes considered useless? Can anybody answer that?''

Silence.

The students glanced at each other, but no one spoke up immediately. They knew rune carving had a bad reputation, but putting it into words was another matter.

Julien leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Because it's too risky?"

"Risky, yes," I nodded. "But that applies to all magic. Try again."

Mira tapped her fingers on her desk. "It's unreliable. Even with perfect carving, there's still a chance something goes wrong."

"Unreliable, yes," I said. "But so is alchemy, yet people still practice it. Why do people dismiss runes specifically?"

Felix hesitated, then raised his hand. "Because the payoff isn't worth the effort?"

I smirked. "Now we're getting somewhere."

I turned to the board and wrote a single word:

Investment.

"The reason rune carving is considered useless isn't because it doesn't work," I said. "It's because the return on investment is too low. Magic formulas, enchanted gear, and spell scrolls all exist as easier, more predictable alternatives. Why spend years mastering a technique when a pre-made solution does the job faster and safer?"

I tossed the chalk onto my desk. "And that's exactly why most people ignore it. Why risk becoming a walking disaster when you can just buy a magic sword?"

Leo nodded. "That makes sense... but then why do some people still use it?"

I leaned against my desk. "Because when done right, runes can achieve things no spell or enchantment can."

The class went quiet again.

I gave them a slow, deliberate grin. "Runes aren't useless. They're just a gamble. And some people—" I tapped the blackboard, emphasizing my point, "—know how to rig the game."

That got their attention.

Julien raised a brow. "So you're saying... it's only useless if you're bad at it?"

"Exactly," I said. "Which is why today's lesson isn't just about theory."

The class collectively tensed.

I turned to my desk and picked up a bundle of chalk. Then, with a flick of my wrist, I tossed a piece to each student.

"Congratulations," I said. "You're all going to carve your first rune today."

Felix groaned. "I knew it."

Mira smirked. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

Julien twirled his chalk between his fingers. "Alright, professor, what's the challenge?"

I picked up my own chalk and held it between my fingers. "Simple. You have five minutes to carve a basic reinforcement rune onto your desk. No magic, just pure technique. If you mess up, you'll see firsthand why runes are considered 'useless and dangerous.'"

Leo muttered, "Please tell me our desks won't explode."

I smiled. "Guess you'll find out."

And with that, class truly began.