Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

Chapter 230: Astrid [2]

Astrid had many questions.

’What was my mother to you?’

’Was that really her?’

’Why did you kiss her?’

’Ever since I met you, you’ve looked like you were longing for someone who isn’t here anymore.’

’Was it… my mother?’

Everything tangled at once. Her chest felt as if it had been torn open, her stomach turning over as the scene replayed in her head. It was wrong on so many levels that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend what had just happened.

“That’s right.”

“….”

“I killed her.”

The words hit harder than anything Astrid could have forced out of him.

All the questions faded at once, swept aside by the single confession that blew through everything else in her mind.

“W-Why…”

Not, ’that can’t be true, ’but ’why.’ As if there had never been room for doubt in Astrid’s heart from the beginning.

“M-Mother loved you… like you were her own son…”

But it was clear to Astrid now that Vanitas had never seen it the same way.

“The doctor said she would live. I remember it as clear as yesterday. Her health… it was getting better…”

“There is no cure for mana degeneration syndrome,” Vanitas said.

“….”

“You’re delusional for believing medicine could ever cure it.”

He spoke in the voice of someone who had once pursued the same path as her, only to meet failure head-on.

“She died in vain,” Vanitas continued. “That is the truth. Because of my failure, she…”

“….”

Vanitas raised a hand, and thick, black mana coalesced in his palm, condensing with demonic energy. It was certainly dark magic.

But what unsettled Astrid most was not the sight of it, but how natural it seemed in his grasp, as if he had always possessed the ability to wield it.

“Ukh…!”

A sharp pain seized him. Vanitas clutched his chest, his brows furrowing as black blood spilled from his lips. His veins bulged, glowing with an ominous purple hue. He staggered as he barely managed to support himself against the wall to keep from collapsing.

Astrid watched him silently, her face shadowed. Selena, who until now had held her tongue, finally stepped forward.

Vanitas regarded her for a moment, black blood dripping onto the floor.

“You did well… Marquess,” Selena whispered. She raised her hand, and golden radiance unfurled from her palm.

Placing it over him, she summoned her holy magic, weaving light into his failing body.

“Because of your sacrifice, lives that would have been lost today were saved. Ours included.”

Vanitas scoffed. “Sacrifice?”

Selena nodded. “You used dark magic to consume the demon, did you not?”

Nothing more needed to be said. Everyone present knew what it meant. Dark mages drew their power from corruption by consuming demons, or vials and drugs steeped in demonic miasma.

The fact that Vanitas had done so confirmed he had the ability to wield dark magic all along.

“You should fear me.”

But Selena only smiled.

To consume something like the Lily of the Valley meant siphoning enough energy to burn one’s mana core from within.

And it was evident that as she healed him, she could feel that Vanitas’s mana core was burning. His veins, the very channels of mana, were slowly corroding. And no amount of holy light could mend something already in decline.

“Why?” Selena whispered, shaking her head. “You’ve never once harmed me. Even when you could have, you didn’t. Maybe you do have some hidden, sinister plan for me… but if that’s the case, then let’s just say I’m being a fool right now.”

“You’re making a mistake—” Vanitas’s words came to a halt, eyes narrowing. “What… are you doing?”

He realized it then. Just as he had consumed the miasma of the Lily of the Valley, Selena was siphoning away the miasma now spreading through his body.

Light and dark. Dark and light. Holy and demonic. Demonic and holy. They had always been described as opposites, but in truth, they were two sides of the same coin.

Just as dark magic could devour and overwhelm the sacred, holy magic could absorb and purify the profane.

But it was not healing, just simply sharing the burden. Such was the truth of purification.

Vanitas grabbed her wrist. “Stop. Who gave you permission to do that?”

“We’re in this together now, Marquess,” Selena answered firmly. Then, she glanced toward Astrid. “And how unfortunate it is… that the Princess is here to witness our crime.”

For if the corruption was eating away at Vanitas, then by siphoning it into herself, it would consume Selena too.

The purple veins bulging across his skin receded, though the pain remained. Still, it was a sacrifice Vanitas accepted. Without a word, he strode forward, and Selena followed closely behind.

Astrid, however, stayed rooted in place, unable to move, and… unable to understand.

“Explain!” she cried as she clenched her fists.

She couldn’t grasp how Vanitas could possibly be responsible for her mother’s death. He was supposed to be unrelated to the case.

Yet according to his and Karina’s words, that wasn’t the case at all.

“I loved her. And that love killed her. That’s all.”

“T-That’s a lie!” Astrid’s voice shook. “The doctor—”

“Never even intended to cure her if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“….”

“Do you understand now? Intentions aside, I killed her.”

“Intentions…”

In simpler terms, an accident.

But an accident so catastrophic it shook the entire continent. The death of the Imperial Queen was not something anyone could dismiss as chance or misfortune.

Under Imperial Law, such an act might as well have been murder. No statute could absolve it, and no defense could ever stand. Even lawyers, out of fear of indictment themselves, would not dare defend the one tied to her death.

The realization dawned on Astrid.

“….”

Vanitas, as a Great Power, was beyond the reach of any law. Neither Aetherion nor its courts could indict him. Not even her brother, the Emperor himself, could lay his hands on him.

Only a fellow Great Power could ever pass judgment on another.

And yet Astrid knew the truth. For those who stood among that echelon, the death of the Imperial Queen, the Empress, her mother, meant nothing at all.

To them, it was not worth the grief or the outrage. Especially since the Empress was already on the verge of dying at that time.

“She could have lived longer…” Astrid’s throat tightened as she forced the words out. “I could have held her hand longer… Spent more time with her… loved her longer… She could have smiled longer…”

“Yes.”

“She was the only one there for me…”

Her family had been far too busy to look after their youngest. But Julia had never abandoned her.

Even after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, Julia chose not to spend her final days confined to a hospital. Nor did she remain in the Imperial Palace, where she would have been strapped to wires and treated as a patient rather than a mother.

Instead, she chose Astrid’s home.

Julia Barielle had loved Astrid with her whole heart. And though she cherished all her children, she had poured her final strength into her youngest, giving her not just time, but unconditional love.

Vanitas knew this truth better than anyone. Astrid had been a frail child and was never expected to live past her early years.

Yet because of Julia, that fate had been defied. In exchange, Julia had not only harmed herself but had exposed researchers to the same terminal condition.

…Him and his mother included.

“Thank you… for loving my mother,” Astrid said at last.

Sensing the tension in the atmosphere, Selena quickly tightened her grip around Vanitas’s hand.

“But no one asked for your help,” Astrid finished coldly.

———!

Astrid’s eyes ignited with a golden glow. Her magnetism lashed out with the intent to shatter Vanitas entirely. Selena reacted instantly, unleashing holy light to intercept the force of Astrid’s magnetism.

“Saintess!” Astrid screamed and raised her hand forward.

Dark magic surged from Vanitas, intertwining with the wind at his command.

The air roared, scattering Astrid’s blades mid-flight and sending them clattering uselessly across the ground. Black tendrils of mana sparked and dissipated into the air, repelling every strike.

Without a word, Vanitas turned, the Saintess still clutching his hand, and began to walk away. Astrid’s screams echoed behind them as she conjured blade after blade, but none of them could pierce the storm of wind that shielded him.

It was a cruel world.

A world that had forced a child to grow too quickly, depriving her of innocence before she could even understand what it meant.

Her grief had never healed.

Her pain had only festered.

And when everything combusted, the truth revealed itself.

“Why! Why! Why! Why…!”

In the end, what remained was a wounded child hiding behind the shell of a woman who thought she was mature enough to endure all of the world’s trials.

* * *

Despite everything, Margaret and Karina were not strong enough to defeat Friedrich Glade. Yet together, they managed to hold him at bay, just enough to prevent him from overwhelming them individually with a single strike.

“Your blade…” Friedrich’s eyes narrowed with respect. “It is the sharpest I have ever seen. I’ve never encountered anything like it.”

It was a blade that severed more than flesh and steel. A blade that cut through even concepts themselves, transcending the limits of swordsmanship.

Such was Friedrich’s grim evaluation of Margaret’s sword.

Gasping for breath, Margaret supported by driving her blade into the ground. To her, his words sounded sarcastic. She had never expected to match a legendary figure like Friedrich Glade, but the sheer gap between them was humiliating all the same.

And to think that such a man was second only to the Sword Saint.

Friedrich turned his gaze toward Karina. “And you… Because of Iridelle, I will not escalate this matter, as long as you return now.”

“…Return?”

“To Zyphran. I dare not wish to see your face in Aetherion again.”

Karina’s magic radiated like a frost so absolute that one would prefer not to move. Her ice was so cold it could freeze even time. Yet that was the tragedy.

She was like a flower blooming in winter, with its petals weighed down by snow too heavy for it. Her own power was too much for her. An ice so merciless that even its wielder risked being frozen along with it.

Karina clenched her fists. Friedrich noticed her pale, brittle nails, a clear sign of strain. Despite the nature of her abilities, she was shivering. Ironic that the wielder of such absolute frost was slowly being consumed by its chill.

And it was true. Karina was prone to fevers. Though she had learned to endure them during her time in military training, where she had no choice but to push through fatigue and drive herself to the edge of her limits.

But there had been times when a single fever felt like death itself.

“….”

One particular rainy night, Professor Vanitas visited her cramped apartment and tended to her with care while she suffered from a fever.

“….”

She shook the thought away.

Because even that was a lie.

Everything about him was a lie.

——What do you think you’re doing, Duke Glade?

That familiar voice rang out, and every head turned toward its source. Vanitas slowly walked toward them, the Saintess clutching his hand.

Yet something about him felt off.

“…I see,” Friedrich Glade scoffed. “So you were on their side from the very beginning.”

Dark, demonic miasma bled from Vanitas, tainting the air around him. It was not difficult to put the pieces together.

Friedrich’s gaze turned to Margaret. He raised his blade high. If Vanitas had allied himself with the cult, then Margaret was undoubtedly his accomplice.

However….

Bang——

In the next instant, Friedrich’s body was hurled against the side of the snowy mountain. His eyes widened in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

When he blinked, two cold amethyst eyes glared back at him. Vanitas inched close before him, having appeared as though from nowhere.

“I asked you a question,” Vanitas said, his voice low. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Friedrich thrust his fist forward, but Vanitas dodged the strike with ease. He brought his blade down in a heavy arc, only for Vanitas to stop the swing with his bare palm, as if the very inertia of the strike had been severed mid-motion.

“I respected you, Duke Glade,” Vanitas said, tightening his grip on the blade. “But it seems you don’t respect me at all. This sword nearly killed what is mine. And I don’t take kindly to others laying a hand on what belongs to me.”

Shatter——

The blade of Duke Glade, the legendary weapon of a Great Power, a war hero, the Wolf of the North, the very same sword that had slain mythical beasts like the Thunderbird, shattered like glass in Vanitas’s grasp.

Vanitas narrowed his eyes. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Damned cultist—”

Bang!

A crushing weight pressed down on Friedrich, forcing him to the ground with a force unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Vanitas ground his boot against Friedrich’s head, pinning him down. The legendary duke twitched, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t lift his upper body against the crushing pressure.

“One last chance while I’m being generous,” Vanitas said, his amethyst eyes gleaming with a cold light. “Why did you just try to kill Margaret?”