Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 44: Villain Attack (3)

Da-yeon plummeted down the seemingly endless cliff.

With the suppressor cuffs restraining her trait, even an awakened being would struggle to survive such a height.

Yet, she closed her eyes, surrendering to gravity without resistance.

The wind whipped around her, its roar filling her ears.

Was it the proximity of death?

The brief moment of falling felt like an eternity.

She slowly opened her eyes.

Amid the rapidly shifting scenery, one thing remained constant.

I, now inches away, reached out and caught her in my arms.

Sliding one arm under her back to secure her firmly, I thrust my other hand into the cliff wall.

Crunch—!

Grinding through the rock, I slowed our descent.

Just centimeters from the ground, we came to a complete stop.

Landing lightly, I pulled my hand from the cliff and brushed the hair from her face.

“Any injuries?”

Da-yeon just blinked silently.

Realizing my mistake, I removed the mask gagging her mouth.

Exhaling deeply, she nodded.

“Phew… I’m okay. Thank you for saving me.”

“‘Thank you’? It’s my job. You went through a lot. What era is this, anyway, with all these kidnappings?”

Grumbling, I helped her to her feet.

But her legs gave out, and she nearly collapsed, losing balance.

I caught her just before she fell.

Though she’d trusted I’d save her, the tension had taken its toll.

The exhaustion and stress hit her all at once, sapping her strength.

“If you’re tired, rest a bit before we go.”

“No, I’m fine.”

She said, taking deep breaths.

She was anything but fine.

“This isn’t the first or second time. It’s been quieter lately, but when I was younger, it was practically a quarterly event. I thought I’d gotten used to it.”

Her grip tightened on my shirt.

“Everyone nearly died because of me.”

She recalled the recent events.

Pink smoke had engulfed the beach, and four villains appeared.

They singled her out, declaring they’d leave peacefully if she surrendered.

Of course, Se-ah refused, and a fierce battle ensued.

Despite their strength, Se-ah held her own.

But splitting her focus to protect the students caused a lapse in concentration, leading to a critical hit.

The few students who stayed conscious fought on even after Se-ah fell, but everyone knew the truth: those villains were far beyond their exhausted selves.

Dozens of students couldn’t defeat even one of them.

What chance did five or six have?

The overwhelming gap in power meant combat would lead to severe injuries or death.

So, Da-yeon made a swift decision.

She surrendered, demanding the others’ safety in exchange.

The villains, finding it the easiest option, agreed.

That’s why, when I returned, the villains underestimated me, thinking they’d only need to subdue me.

Clutching my shirt, she muttered, her voice trembling faintly.

“My whole life… will I have to live like this?”

She kept her distance from others, avoiding close bonds.

Sharing emotions or forming attachments was frightening—not because she was indifferent, but because of her reality.

“Just because I’m Swordmaster’s daughter. It’s not like I chose to be born this way.”

The closer she got to someone, the more they suffered.

She’d experienced it countless times since childhood.

She’d thought Clington would be safer, but the enemies grew stronger, their methods more ruthless.

Maybe that’s why she was drawn to me.

Unlike her, unable to approach or be approached freely, I barged into others’ spaces, meddling without restraint.

That freedom, backed by skill, resonated with something she lacked.

I was her opposite in every way.

To her serious concerns, I replied casually.

“That’s why you need to get stronger. If you, Swordmaster’s weakness, surpass him, no one will target you.”

An absurd ideal. If any other adult had said it, she’d have ignored it or gotten angry.

But coming from me, it was different.

She looked up, meeting my eyes.

“Can I really become that strong?”

“Yeah.”

My firm response carried more conviction than she had in herself.

“And while you’re a student, don’t worry.”

I placed a hand on her head.

“I’ll protect you.”

She gasped softly, then leaned her forehead against my chest without a word.

“I believe you.”

“Good. Now let go of my shirt before it stretches.”

Realizing her compromising position, she pulled back, her face flushed.

She mumbled, about to say something resolute.

“By the way.”

Sighing, I turned around.

“The situation was messy, so I didn’t clean things up neatly.”

The villain woman, pipe in mouth, stood at the cliff’s base, glaring at us.

“I didn’t hold back that much for her to be wandering around like this.”

Compared to the two villains I’d subdued earlier, I hadn’t gone easy on her.

It was surprising she was conscious, let alone climbing down the cliff.

“Her grit’s better than those two.”

She gripped her pipe.

“A mission must be completed to the end, right?”

Her obsessive dedication to the mission impressed even me.

She was moving on sheer willpower, beyond physical limits.

She took a deep breath, exhaling a small but menacing plume of smoke, more dangerous than anything before.

I tried to push it away lightly, but it resisted, advancing forward.

I frowned.

Using more force would hurt Da-yeon beside me, not just the smoke.

I had no choice.

I pressed Da-yeon’s head into my chest, shielding her and taking the smoke myself.

The villain burst into laughter.

“Knew you’d do that.”

As the smoke seeped into me, I released Da-yeon and turned back, replying calmly.

“Sorry, but I’m nearly immune to manipulation traits.”

I furrowed my brow, my vision wavering.

“Not a manipulation trait. It’s interfering with the brain itself.”

As my consciousness faded, the villain grinned, tapping her temple.

“Exactly. Not a trait—it’s science. A smoke blend stimulating specific brain parts. Anyone who inhales it sees their deepest desire, a hallucination.”

Like a drug—she didn’t finish.

I was already seeing something else.

Looking at my defenseless state, the villain sighed.

It was a relief her trump card worked, but the cost was steep.

“I didn’t plan to use this precious stuff on this mission.”

It was supposed to be a light job.

But her teammates were crushed, she was severely injured, and she’d used her secret weapon, unreported to the organization.

Losing four years’ worth of painstakingly crafted smoke was maddening, but the risk of mission failure made it worthwhile.

Enduring pain, she drew a knife.

“Mission aside, you’re too dangerous.”

My physical abilities didn’t quite reach A-rank, but they were enough to finish off a defenseless opponent.

“Professor, wake up!”

Da-yeon shook my shoulders frantically, but the villain only scoffed.

“No use. His senses are gone, lost in another world. The only way out is to kill the subject of the hallucination.”

Da-yeon’s face darkened.

“Then…”

“Yep. He’d have to kill the person he most wants to see with his own hands. Strength doesn’t matter here.”

For a hero with high morals, escaping this hallucination was impossible.

Giving up on waking me, Da-yeon tried to stop the villain, but a light kick sent her flying.

The suppressor cuffs still bound her wrists.

“Well, he gets to see who he most wanted before dying, so he’ll go out satisfied in that happy dream, right?”

As the sharpened knife neared my carotid artery.

I grabbed her wrist.

“What?”

Our eyes met, hers shocked, mine clear and sharp, unlike before.

“How…”

Stammering, she faltered, and I shrugged.

“I’ll give you credit. It’s a technique that works regardless of power gaps. Probably effective on most S-ranks too.”

My tone was casual, but my expression openly showed disgust.

That disgust quickly turned to action.

I twisted her wrist, taking the knife. Gripping it in reverse, I stabbed it into her shoulder, pulling her close.

“But I’m not your average S-rank. Or even a hero.”

I whispered softly, almost secretly, into her ear.

“What’s the point of showing me someone I’ve already killed?”

“…You’re insane.”

Fear flickered in her eyes for the first time.

“Even though I countered it easily, I’m in a foul mood. So, you’ll pay for that, right?”

I reached out, grabbing her throat. She gave an awkward smile, raising her hands.

“If I surrender now, will you go easy?”

“Shameless.”

* * *

Returning to the beach, I sighed and looked around.

Thankfully, the students were regaining consciousness.

They’d need thorough checkups, but the immediate priority was elsewhere.

I stood before Se-ah, lying against the medical tent.

Crouching, I met her eye level.

She groaned, clutching her side.

“Ugh, it hurts like hell. Support’s still hours away.”

Her wounds were bad enough, but using her trait to protect the students at the end worsened her condition.

I closely examined her.

“You’re bleeding too much to wait that long.”

“No choice. All I’ve got for hemostasis…”

She pointed to the bandage on her cheek.

“Is this?”

“Should’ve put it on your side. Anyway.”

I suddenly lifted her.

“Let’s do surgery.”

Her face paled at the word “surgery.”

It wasn’t the procedure itself that scared her.

“Wait! You said you don’t have a license! Ugh!”

She struggled, clutching her side.

I firmly dismissed her protests.

“Who cares about a license? I’ll do what I can, licensed or not.”

Disinfection, reconstructing blood vessels and nerves, transfusion, and suturing—I could handle that much unlicensed.

“Suturing? Just staple my side a few times! Or let me do it!”

Se-ah, doubting my skills, resisted, but I ignored her.

More importantly.

“No anesthesia either!”

“Tough it out. You’re a professor.”

Just before entering the medical tent, I turned my head.

“You two class leaders, gather the kids and check their conditions. Anyone hurting waits by the tent. I can operate right away.”

Perhaps thanks to the pained screams from the tent, Da-yeon and Ye-jin’s checks found no students claiming injuries.

* * *

Hours of surgery later, I emerged from the tent, covered in blood.

Students resting scattered about stood and asked?

“Professor, is she okay?”

They remembered, even as they lost consciousness to the smoke, how hard Se-ah fought to protect them.

They felt grateful and guilty.

“The surgery went well, but she needs rest. If you want to thank her, do it back at the academy.”

Reluctantly, the students turned away.

Watching their weary figures, I crossed my arms, muttering regretfully.

“In times like this, drinking lots of water and running to sweat it out is the best treatment.”

Without a clear antidote, flushing it out quickly was ideal.

The students froze, horrified I’d suggest training now.

Sadly, that ideal couldn’t happen.

I turned toward the sea.

“Looks like we won’t have time for that.”

Dozens of transport aircraft, identical to ours, sliced through the sky.

“Quite a show.”

On their sides, the Hero Association’s emblem was prominently displayed.