Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

The situation was a mess.

Under ordinary circumstances, a Crusade order would have been enough to bring Vanitas Astrea to justice.

His crimes were staggering, the murder of Lance Ableton, bloodshed in a sacred sanctuary, the slaughter of several clergymen, and, worst of all, the assassination of a high-ranking Cardinal.

These acts were not merely offenses against the Empire of Aetherion. They violated the very sanctity of the Theocracy and the Holy Church of Lumine, and constituted a direct affront to the Goddess Lumine herself.

"Can anyone even speak for this bastard?! Why can't we just hang him?! There hasn't been a crime of this scale in centuries!"

The outburst came from Hughes Bolton, one of the Great Powers hailing from the Celestine Hegemony. Known across the continent for his divine archery and his mastery over High Tier-ranking spirits, bearing the title of the Divine Archer.

To him, Vanitas Astrea was nothing less than a heretic.

He slammed his fist against the armrest and turned toward a man who had remained silent throughout the meeting.

"Glade! Isn't Axenburg part of the North? Ravage his land! Show him everything has its consequences!"

"...."

But the one he addressed, Friedrich Glade, offered no reply.

The man known as the Wolf of the North, a Great Power, and Duke of nearly the entire northern region of Aetherion, simply remained silent.

"Tsk. Damn pacifist," Bolton spat. "Might as well kick you out if you can't even maintain order!"

"He killed Ableton," Glade finally said

Bolton turned to him, his eyes blazing. "So? Lance was the weakest of us all. He couldn't even be regarded as a Great Power without his scheming."

"Exactly. And you all know it. Lance's power came from manipulation, not might. He climbed by playing politics."

"That doesn't change the fact that he was one of us," another figure growled from across the chamber. "Vanitas Astrea still murdered him, then claimed hearsay of his status."

The voice belonged to Iridelle Vermillion, a formidable figure from the Zyphran Dominion. She was one of only three Admirals serving across the entire Bundesritter Navy.

It had been years since the Great Powers had all gathered in one place, clearly indicating how serious the situation had become.

Well, almost all.

As the debate raged on, the heavy doors opened and two figures entered the chamber. All attention snapped toward them. Without a word, the newcomers made their way to their respective seats.

"You're late, Archmage."

"And you have a lot of explaining to do, Elsa Hesse."

With their arrival, only one seat remained unoccupied.

Everyone's eyes turned toward it. The man whose opinion could decide the fate of all that had been discussed.

The strongest among them.

The Sword Saint, Aston Nietzsche.

"Explain this instance, Elsa Hesse! Why is this University Professor under you suddenly acting out?!"

"...."

But Elsa Hesse merely brushed off the demand with a composed expression.

"I'll answer once the Sword Saint arrives," she said. "It's better if he hears this as well."

Iridelle cast a glance toward her, curious.

"It seems like you know something, Elsa."

Then, her eyes shifted to the other figure seated beside her.

"And I'll assume the Archmage knows as well."

There was a noticeable change in the atmosphere. The expressions of the two women told Iridelle that they didn't seem hostile toward Vanitas Astrea.

If anything, their silence felt more like defense than condemnation.

"Elsa's restraint is one thing," someone muttered, "but if the Archmage is on the boy's side too, then this clearly isn't a matter we can settle without all of us present."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Whatever."

Despite his grumbling, even Hughes Bolton was forced to concede. With the matter left hanging, the chamber gradually settled down.

Nearly thirty minutes passed.

Then, without so much as a sound to announce his arrival, a figure appeared.

"Yo."

"...!"

Every head snapped toward the source of the voice. A man stood at the entrance, casually waving with a grin on his face, as if he hadn't kept the entire council waiting.

"Where have you been all this time, you bastard?!" Bolton shouted, already on his feet.

"Calm down, Bolton," someone interjected. "The Sword Saint probably has plenty of matters to deal with."

Unbothered, Aston Nietzsche merely picked at his ear and made his way to his seat.

"If I have to be honest," Aston began. "The church hasn't told me much. Can anyone explain what exactly happened and why Vanitas Astrea is looking for me?"

"...."

Silence followed.

Despite the lightness in his tone, everyone in the room could see the glint in his eyes. That wasn't a question, but a command from the strongest.

Aston may have known the details, but it was clear he wasn't satisfied. What the Church had fed him were scraps without context.

And Aston wanted answers.

"Keum."

Elsa cleared her throat, drawing all attention toward her. Naturally, it had to be her who spoke first. Of everyone in the chamber, she was the most acquainted with Vanitas Astrea.

"First of all, I'd like to apologize for withholding information," she began. "There's a prior matter I've been investigating that's connected to this case, and I've handled it under my own discretion."

"Is it related to the University Tower attacks?" Iridelle questioned.

"Yes."

"I see. Please, continue."

"So…"

With that, Elsa began to explain. She recounted how she had hired investigators, and after weeks and months of careful tracing and research, the trail had led her to a particular cathedral... and a particular Cardinal.

"This is the Cardinal Vanitas Astrea murdered?" Aston Nietzsche asked.

"Yes."

Aston leaned back in his chair slightly. "Then... Vanitas Astrea was operating under your orders? Wouldn't that make him a scapegoat?"

"Not exactly..." Elsa replied, her voice dipping as she hesitated.

Then, after a short pause, she continued.

"Just recently... Vanitas Astrea's younger sister, Charlotte Astrea, passed away."

The room fell into a tentative silence. That single sentence was enough. Everyone present understood.

"And you're saying he sought revenge?" one of the Great Powers asked. "Then what does Lance have anything to do with this?"

"That's what I'm confused about too..." Elsa's voice trailed off.

A back-and-forth exchange occurred as the gathered Great Powers began debating their next course of action.

Then, through the noise, Hughes Bolton spoke up again.

"Are we just supposed to accept him as one of us?"

His tone was laced with disbelief. The room fell silent for a moment.

"We've executed men for far less," he continued. "And now we're entertaining the idea of letting this bastard sit at the same table?"

"No one said anything about letting him in," Iridelle countered, arms crossed. "But ignoring the situation isn't an option either. If we treat this emotionally, we risk overlooking something deeper."

Bolton scoffed. "Spare me the rational talk. He murdered clergy. He killed a Cardinal. He shed blood in a sacred place. We can't just bury that under some tragic backstory."

At those words, all eyes turned to the Sword Saint. Of everyone in the room, he was expected to be the most offended by Vanitas Astrea's actions, especially those committed on sacred ground.

Aston Nietzsche, however, only shrugged.

"Oh, me?" he said casually. "I could care less about the Church, to be honest. You all know I'm far from faithful."

A few faces twitched at the bluntness of his words, but no one contradicted him. It was well known that Aston had never bent his knee to dogma or divine authority, despite being a High-Ranking Cardinal himself.

And so, the matter dragged on without direction.

Then, cutting through the mounting noise, a calm voice offered a simple solution, yet entirely overlooked by most in the room.

"Before we decide whether he's an enemy or an ally," Friedrich Glade said evenly, "shouldn't we hear his side first?"

It was a suggestion that should've been obvious, but wasn't. At least not to those deep into politics already.

Only Elsa and Soliette seemed unsurprised, having likely arrived at the same thought long before Glade voiced it.

"Someone call him in."

But days passed.

Attempts were made to contact Vanitas Astrea, yet his response only served to enrage certain Great Powers.

Many already believed the matter to be a waste of their time, especially those who neither belonged to the Church nor hailed from Aetherion.

"He's telling us to come to him?!"

The audacity of this bastard.

* * *

"Before I settle the matter, here, Headmaster."

Vanitas Astrea slid a single sheet of paper across Elsa Hesse's desk. She glanced at it, then blinked, her eyes widening as she read its contents.

"You're resigning?"

"This University is too much for me," Vanitas replied. "How can I protect the youth if I couldn't even protect my own sister?"

"...."

Elsa said nothing, her gaze fixed on him.

"Besides," he continued, "this gives me time to focus on myself, and on my own research."

As an Imperial Professor, Vanitas still had access to countless academic resources, material requests, classified archives, restricted magical studies, and collaborative papers from across the continent.

For a moment, Elsa remained silent, fingers resting on the paper he handed over.

"Consider it for a moment," Elsa said, her tinged with disappointment. "Honestly, I was planning to hand over the University Tower to you in a couple of years."

Vanitas didn't even pause. His answer came quickly.

"Find someone else. This place just isn't for me."

Elsa took a good look at Vanitas. His complexion was pale, his neatly wavy hair was now unkempt, hanging over his face, eyes sunken as if he hadn't even considered sleep.

And there was a dull redness in his gaze, as if he had been crying until no more tears would come.

There had been no formal funeral for Charlotte Astrea. Given the charges against Vanitas, it had been impossible.

Still, in respect for the student, the University declared a day of mourning. Students were asked to express their grief for the passing of a classmate, a peer, a senior, an underclassman, and a friend.

Charlotte Astrea.

In the days that followed, Vanitas Astrea's case had exploded across the campus. Students who admired or respected him began voicing their discontent. Some outright sided with him, refusing to believe their professor could be capable of such crimes.

If the Empire moved to implicate him, many feared what might follow.

A riot in Aetherion was no longer just a possibility.

And with the Church's murky involvement in the incident, public dissatisfaction began to shift. While no official statement had been released, the growing theories spread like wildfire.

"...."

Elsa bit her lip and nodded.

"You know, Vanitas," she murmured, "you make things a lot harder for yourself."

"I want to make it just as hard for them. Nothing in this world is free. And I don't intend to suck up like some obedient dog."

He stepped forward, locking his gaze with hers with an intensity that made the air feel heavier.

"Tell me, Headmaster—" He shook his head. "No, Elsa Hesse. Am I that easy to trample on? To the point where people can just barge through my doors and violate what's mine, just because of certain dislikes?"

"...."

Elsa couldn't respond, finding it hard to formulate her words.

Vanitas's voice cut through the silence once more.

"Because Charlotte's… my sister's death was in vain."

Elsa's eyes trembled. At that moment, she stepped forward and pulled Vanitas into an embrace.

"I understand."

"No, you don't—"

"This is my fault."

"...."

Vanitas froze. His words died in his throat at her sudden confession.

"If I hadn't been so fixated on the details," Elsa said, her voice trembling, "on the evidence, the process, the law… your sister wouldn't have had to pay the price."

Her arms tightened slightly around him.

Vanitas just stood there silently, fists clenched at his sides while Elsa held him.

Seconds passed.

"Yeah… this place isn't for me."

* * *

Vanitas walked slowly through the halls of the university.

Students and professors passed by, some meeting his eyes with cautious glances, others in concern but he barely acknowledged them as he took what would be his final walk through the University Tower.

——Professor!

A familiar voice called out behind him. But Vanitas didn't stop. He kept walking, unwilling to turn around.

"...."

Then, something soft wrapped around his back. Arms clung tightly to him from behind, and for a brief moment, Vanitas paused and glanced over his shoulder.

"Are you leaving?"

It was Astrid.

He nodded silently in response.

She slowly released him, stepping back just enough to take a good look at his face.

"...."

Vanitas froze.

He swallowed hard, forcing down something that churned in his throat.

There was nothing wrong with Astrid herself, but knowing she was Julia Barielle's daughter made feel uncomfortable in ways he couldn't explain.

The very thought of Julia Barielle, Kim Minjeong, having a child in this world was something he couldn't process for the time being.

And it was that very discomfort that made him refuse to see Franz, despite the man's repeated attempts to reach out. And it was the same reason he had ignored every call from Irene.

Because the matter regarding their mother was still too complicated.

And moreover, he didn't want to think about it.

Because that woman… had been the reason for a lot of his loops.

"You don't have to come back."

"...."

Astrid's sudden words caught him off guard.

"Live your life as you wish, Professor."

"You don't have to tell me—"

"And once I have enough power, I'll make sure this kind of tragedy never happens again. So that you can live a happy life, free from all the world's greed."

"...."

Vanitas didn't respond, but his silence only pushed her to continue.

"These days, my brother's going crazy, thinking a Holy War might break out. But me? I just think how hypocritical it is. Him panicking, when he's the one who created half the mess due to his tyranny against the working-class."

"Astrid—"

"My brother's been trying to suppress the riots he caused. At the same time, he's scrambling to repair relations with the Theocracy. At this rate, he'll lose all his hair. He should just step down before someone overthrows him. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if we end up in a civil war."

"Astrid."

"There's so much chaos in Aetherion these days," she muttered. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll even graduate before getting drafted into a war I don't even understand."

"I get it."

He didn't bother correcting her. She was a princess. There was no way she'd be drafted, but Vanitas didn't feel the need to say it aloud.

Astrid looked up at him then, her voice softening.

"So, Professor. As the reliable woman that I am, if it ever gets too hard, I hope you'll rely on me too. Not just Ezra and Silas. Really now, what's with all the favoritism?"

"...."

Something in her tone changed.

"....Charlotte was my friend, too."

And then her eyes trembled with grief. At that, Vanitas finally understood what she was trying to say.

He took a slow step forward, then reached out and gently ruffled Astrid's hair. She was trembling, as if trying to stay composed.

Now that he thought about it… if Astrid had been there by Charlotte's side, things might have turned out differently. Knowing her strength, perhaps Charlotte's death could have been avoided.

"Live a good life, Astrid."

"I'll work hard… professor. So I can become someone you'll acknowledge. No, I'll become the next Archmage."

"You don't have to do all that for me."

"No, I do. Because…."

Before she could finish, Vanitas smiled just slightly before placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll find a good man."

"...."

Astrid's lips trembled. Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry.

And with that, Vanitas turned and walked away.

* * *

"He's here."

"The audacity of this bastard," Bolton muttered, arms crossed. "Making us come to him, and then making us wait for him. Just who does he think he is?"

"Just be quiet, Bolton."

"Fine."

As the brief exchange between the Sword Saint and the Divine Archer settled, the doors opened.

Vanitas Astrea stepped into the cathedral.

The very same cathedral that had been sealed off days ago as a crime scene.

Gathered around were six formidable figures. What was once seven, were now only six of the Great Powers.

"It's going to be really simple," Vanitas began. "I'll prove the Church's heretical practices here and now. And when I do, you'll all acknowledge me officially as a Great Power."

There was no room for negotiation in his tone.

If he had to fight for it, if he had to face all the Great Powers at once, to distort the narrative in such a twisted way for a war to ensue, then so be it.

Let this damn Empire burn to hell.