Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

Cardinal Ester Bartholomew of the disgraced House of Bartholomew found himself in a state of panic.

But even with the rising tension, he managed to gather his composure.

“They have no basis or any solid evidence,” he said firmly. “They wouldn’t dare attack the church blindly. Not when it risks invoking the wrath of the Theocracy.”

Unlike him, however, one of the clerics serving the church seemed to be more shaken than him.

“But… Cardinal, they practically have their sights on us. I don’t know how, but every day, it feels like someone is watching me.”

“Then let them watch.”

“….Pardon?”

The cleric blinked, confused by the Cardinal’s words.

“Let them watch,” Ester said. “If their eyes are so desperate to seek fault in us, so be it. We stand before the gaze of a far greater power.”

He clasped his hands together and interlocked his fingers as if in prayer.

“God is with us. Always has been. Always will be. If, by some twist of fate, we are caught, then that too is His will. But know this, God does not abandon His faithful servants.”

The cleric remained silent, uncertainty seemingly evident in his expression.

“To doubt is a sin,” Ester continued. “Faith wavers not when we are questioned, nor when we are watched. It falters only when we begin to doubt ourselves.”

A heavy silence filled the chamber as the young cleric listened intently.

“Remember, it is not mortals who determine our fate. It is God. Those who conspire against us are but tools of a greater design. They act as they are meant to act.”

Slowly, the cleric lowered his head.

“I… understand, Cardinal.”

Ester nodded.

“Good. Hold fast to your faith. In the eyes of God, we remain His servants.”

A cold smile tugged at his lips.

“And if they dare challenge that… they will find they’ve made an enemy of heaven itself.”

As the words left his lips, the air shifted. The cross before him tilted ever so slightly, as if acknowledging his prayer.

From its edges, dark sparks crackled and burst, scattering like embers.

Crackle—

Then came the pressure.

Magic circles flared to life and in the blink of an eye, space bent around them. The world distorted, and the chapel dissolved into fragments of light.

When the sensation faded, they found themselves elsewhere.

Concrete walls greeted their line of sight. Groans of pain echoed through the hallways, accompanied by the sound of consolations.

Ester walked forward.

Along the corridors, figures moved in and out of rooms and tended to the injured. Some while others wept.

And along the sound of human suffering….

Rooooar——

The guttural roars of beasts could be heard.

Hidden from the public eye, the facility existed to conduct unspeakable experiments to the unfortunate.

All for the purpose of mass-producing creatures known to the world as demons.

But in this place, the ambition went further.

The objective was not just to create mindless beasts, but to fuse the intelligence of humans with the overwhelming strength of demons.

Chimeras.

Grotesque abominations born from the blend of humanity’s cunning and a demon’s raw power.

Naturally, such an experiment carried an unreasonably high failure rate. For every successful result, countless more failed to reach the desired intellect.

The vast majority were nothing more than rampaging, mindless creatures.

Managing such failures became a burden too great, and eventually, the decision was made.

Rather than contain them, these failures were simply discarded and dumped across the continent. And it was from this reckless disposal that the phenomenon known to the public as “chimera sightings” began to spread.

“Where is she?” Cardinal Ester asked as an Araxys researcher approached.

“Over here, Cardinal.”

He was led down the corridor, and soon, they stopped before a room. Inside, a disheveled woman sat with her wrists chained and her body slumped over.

“She’s the highest control among the current batch,” the researcher explained. “The others are still works in progress, but really, these Imperial Professor candidates are the real deal.”

Ester’s gaze dropped to the profile handed to him. His fingers turned the page slowly.

Professor Dahlia.

A Silver University Tower professor and one of the Imperial Professor candidates abducted during the coordinated attacks on several University Towers.

“….”

His lips curled into a faint smile.

* * *

Vanitas Astrea took in the sight before him.

A grand cathedral loomed before him. Stained glass windows reflected slivers of colored light across the courtyard.

Even as Chae Eun-woo, he had never been a man of faith.

Why would he be? When it always seemed as though God himself had abandoned him at every turn?

Walking slowly, Vanitas crossed the threshold and entered the cathedral. The heavy doors creaked shut behind him.

He approached the front, where rows of empty pews led to the great cross that dominated the altar.

There, he knelt.

But he did not bow his head. Nor did his hands come together in reverence.

He simply stared.

“….”

Because there was no need for prayer.

Around him, clerics moved quietly. Some spared him a passing glance, others paid him no mind.

Moments later, a figure approached and knelt beside him.

“….?”

Vanitas took a glance from the corner of his eye, observing as the man began to murmur a prayer.

Still, Vanitas remained silent.

When the man finished, he turned to him.

“It’s my first time meeting you, Marquess Vanitas Astrea.”

“….”

Vanitas didn’t answer immediately. He recognized the figure at once. From a common perspective, it would be a shocking encounter.

But for Vanitas, it wasn’t anything surprising.

“The Scholar of Wisdom, Lance Abelton.”

One of the Great Powers. Lance Abelton.

“Oh?” Lance raised a brow, intrigued. “You recognize me?”

“How could I not?”

“Well, that certainly makes things easier.”

“Easier?” Vanitas repeated. “Did you follow me inside?”

“Nonsense,” Lance chuckled. “I come here daily to pray. Call it a coincidence. Though, judging by your expression, you seem rather… wary of me.”

“I was often told I have a dislikeable face.”

“I’ve heard otherwise. It seems the ladies are quite fond of you.”

“Then it sounds like you’ve been keeping tabs on me, Sir Abelton.”

“With your growing fame, how could I not? I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“Aware of what, exactly?” Vanitas asked, raising a brow.

“That our names are being pitted together.”

“I find it quite unpleasant,” Vanitas replied evenly. “All I want is a quiet and peaceful life. Yet it seems the public insists on dragging me into their noise.”

Lance smiled at that. “Ah, but that’s how it goes when someone’s star rises too high. Attention comes whether you seek it or not. Though, I’m curious, Marquess. What brings you here today?”

Vanitas let out a breath. “I suddenly felt compelled to thank the Holy Father for blessing me far too much.”

“Then I suppose it’s the will of the Holy Father that we meet under these circumstances,” Lance replied with an easy smile.

“I believe it is.”

A brief silence settled between them before Lance spoke again.

“Are you not curious?”

“About what?”

“My thoughts regarding the matter.”

“Are all scholars afraid of being dethroned from their high seat?”

“…Yes? What?” Lance blinked, momentarily thrown off.

Vanitas’s lips curved into a thin smile. “You seem to be mistaken, Sir Abelton. I have no interest in becoming a Great Power or replacing you. If that were the case, I’d insist on becoming the eighth member rather than disrupting the symbolic seven. But tell me something, Sir Abelton.”

Vanitas’s tone dipped lower.

“Are you the type of man who bites back the moment your position feels threatened? Because you’re not the first. Great Power or not, I don’t treat my enemies kindly.”

Lance’s smile remained unchanged, but his fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee.

“Enemies, you say? My, such sharp words for someone who just claimed to seek peace.”

“If it’s for the sake of peace, I would gladly wage war.”

“Then perhaps we’re more alike than you think, Professor Astrea.”

Vanitas didn’t return the look.

From what he knew of the game’s narrative, in every possible route, Lance Abelton had always betrayed humanity.

Without fail, he would side with the Araxys the moment the tides turned. His so-called wisdom had corroded to the point of opportunism. A man who measured everything to his own benefit.

If Aetherion was on the brink of destruction, Lance would not hesitate to abandon ship. To him, loyalty was secondary to survival. Principle was malleable. And wisdom… was just a convenience.

In essence, he was the worst kind of man.

And for someone with such grand ambitions, it was ironic how Lance was often considered the weakest among the Seven Great Powers.

“I believe we are,” Vanitas responded.

….Yet to Vanitas, he most dangerous of them all.

* * *

The next day, Margaret conducted an inspection of the Astrea Marquisate’s Domain. It was a village rich with its own culture and heritage. Initially, the villagers had been wary of the new Marquess who had taken charge of their land.

Change, after all, often bred skepticism.

But months passed, and with time, their concerns faded.

The new Lord had proven himself to be benevolent. He was fair in his governance, quick in delivering justice, and mindful of the people’s needs.

It didn’t take long for the villagers to adjust and accept the new change.

The Illenia Knights Order, under Margaret’s command, had been assigned to protect the Domain and its locals.

“Ah! Grand Knight!” a voice called out.

One of the knights approached Margaret as she sat in the waiting lounge of the Illenia Knights’ headquarters.

Though they referred to it as a “camp,” the building was quite luxurious. Vanitas, after all, was not a man who spared expense.

Margaret looked up, expectant. “Maverick.”

The young knight straightened his posture at the sound of his name, a grin tugging at his lips despite the formal setting.

Maverick was one of the newer recruits, yet already a rising star within the Illenia Knights. His loyalty to Margaret bordered on fanatical, though his easygoing nature often clashed with her stern command.

“Grand Knight, the patrol reports came in. No abnormalities along the eastern borders. The merchant caravans passed without incident.”

“Good,” Margaret said, crossing one leg over the other. “And the southern farmlands?”

“A couple of disputes over water rights. Nothing alarming. Sir Garret already mediated between the families.”

Margaret nodded in approval. “Alright.”

There was a brief pause as Maverick glanced around, clearly having more to report. His expression, however, was more hesitant now.

“What is it?” she asked.

“News from Aetherion, my Lady. About the Scholar’s Institute.”

He leaned in slightly.

“The Sovereign Spell demonstration performed by Marquess Astrea… it’s the talk of every city now. They’re calling it a spectacle.”

Margaret’s lips curved into a smile. “Of course they are.”

But even so, for some reason, Margaret felt a sense of pride, knowing she served under the man in question.

“Anything else?” she asked.

Maverick shook his head. “That’s all for now. Would you like me to prepare your horse? You mentioned you wanted to inspect the northern ridge personally.”

Margaret stood, adjusting the gauntlets on her arms with a click of metal. “Yes. Have it ready.”

“As you command, Grand Knight.” Maverick gave a firm salute before striding out.

It didn’t take long before the horse was brought to the front of the Illenia Order’s camp. The beast was a fine steed. Margaret approached and ran a gloved hand along its neck.

“She’s beautiful,” she said to the stablehand, who bowed quickly and left.

Mounting, Margaret settled into the saddle.

“Maverick, you’ll accompany me to the ridge.”

“At your side, my Lady,” Maverick replied, swinging onto his own horse with a grin.

The two riders departed the camp, their horses’ hooves click clacking against the road before fading into the dirt path. Villagers paused in their work to offer bows and greetings to which Margaret returned with a polite nod.

As they rode, the village gave way to open fields, and then to the ascending terrain of the northern ridge.

The air seemed to grow colder the farther they went. The ridge overlooked a significant portion of the Domain, with fertile lands, scattered farmsteads, and the glistening glow of the river that fed them.

It was then.

———!

The sound of guttural roars reverberated through the forest below.

Margaret and Maverick both halted.

“That’s not from any beast of this land,” Maverick muttered, drawing his sword halfway from its scabbard.

“No. It’s not.” Margaret’s eyes narrowed. Her hand instinctively rested on the hilt of her own blade. “And I’m not unfamiliar with it either.”

———!

Another roar followed, closer this time. The treetops swayed unnaturally, as if something massive was moving through the underbrush.

“Alert the watchtower. Signal a red banner,” Margaret ordered. “No villagers are to leave the inner perimeter until we’re certain.”

“What about you, Grand Knight?”

“Repeat that again.”

“What about—”

“Grand Knight.”

“Ah, y-yes.”

The title wasn’t for show. The rank of Grand Knight was bestowed solely on those who possessed overwhelming combat prowess, regardless of their leadership capabilities.

“Go,” she ordered.

“At once, Grand Knight.” Maverick gave a salute before wheeling his horse around, galloping back toward the village to relay her command.

Left alone, Margaret dismounted and scanned the ridge. Her boots crunched against the frost-hardened ground as she surveyed the dense treeline ahead.

The sound that had echoed earlier… she knew it well.

“….Chimeras.”

Chimeras had lurked all the way to the Astrea Domain’s northern ridge.

“Why hasn’t there been any report?”

Or had they been… hiding?

“….”

Margaret’s fingers flexed against the leather-wrapped hilt of her blade.

….If an entire legion of chimeras made their way to the village, not even the Illenia Knights Order could suppress them.

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