Chapter 94: A true genius professor, an educator Part 6

The students could only stare in awe, overwhelmed by the sight before them.

The frequent appearances and activities of demons had already taken a toll.

Some had known that something catastrophic was bound to happen eventually, and there were those who had resolved to fulfill their duty as students of the Imperial Academy.

But ideals and reality often differ.

Even if one had steeled their resolve in advance, maintaining composure in the face of such a threat was an entirely different matter.

The enemy was truly overwhelming.

From a distance, its ominous aura alone made their limbs tremble uncontrollably.

Their only hope.

The final bastion they could rely on.

Professor Riyan, the one everyone believed in without a shadow of doubt, capable of resolving any disaster with ease.

Yet, relying on him was no longer an option.

The professor had overexerted himself time and time again to save his students.

Even as his body deteriorated from the aftereffects, rendering each day a struggle, he always put everyone else before himself.

Eventually, the aftermath worsened, until he began coughing up blood.

He was in no condition to fight—he had become someone they needed to protect.

Principal Sion gave her best effort, but it was futile.

If even a healthy Professor Riyan couldn’t confront such a being, it was natural that anyone else would fail.

They were utterly overpowered.

The Empire was on the verge of collapse.

When everyone could no longer deny the truth of their impending doom, despite desperately wishing otherwise…

He walked forward.

***

Professor Riyan, already in a dire state, was bleeding through his once-white shirt, now stained crimson.

It was clear to anyone that he was unfit for battle.

In contrast, their enemy was a monstrous, godlike existence straight out of myth—an overwhelming force.

Even if they killed it once, it seemed it would rise again, possessing an uncountable number of lives.

The outcome was painfully obvious to anyone watching.

And yet, Professor Riyan blocked the monster’s attack.

Gettya, who looked down upon all creation as if everything was beneath him, locked eyes with Riyan on equal footing.

Not only that, but the professor even managed to wound the beast.

The students who specialized in magic, renowned prodigies in their hometowns, stared intently but couldn’t decipher even a single word of the professor’s spell.

Professor Riyan pulled stars from the sky.

He split the world with thunder.

He purified the demon with radiant light.

Buying time, let alone escaping the creature, had seemed impossible.

Yet Professor Riyan succeeded in exposing its weak point.

But one crucial step remained.

Though he had cornered the enemy perfectly, he lacked the strength to finish it.

Professor Riyan, having expended nearly all his energy, could no longer hide his exhaustion.

By all logic, despair should have set in.

It was natural to lose hope and give up in such a moment.

Their only hope had failed to turn the tide of the battle.

Yet strangely, there was no despair on the faces of the students.

They were all focused on one thing—the professor’s back.

There was no logical reason, no basis, yet all of them thought the same.

That crimson back seemed to say:

“Can you follow me?”

“You must. As my students, you’re capable of at least that much.”

“Go, my students. I’ve opened the path.”

As if to confirm their speculation, the man, without turning back, uttered those words with no hesitation.

The blood-soaked crimson back.

It was waiting for the students to reach it.

***

‘Can we follow? What a joke,’ they thought.

No matter how great their professor was, they couldn’t let that remark slide.

They were Professor Riyan’s students.

They had learned under his guidance.

Merely following wasn’t enough to honor their teacher.

Even if it was arrogant.

Even if it was disrespectful.

They had to stand before him.

Not just follow but make him follow them.

Anything less would be unacceptable.

With their eyes burning with determination, they poured every ounce of strength into their bodies.

Their hands and feet moved like they were cutting through the air with great swords.

The students, with all their might, charged past the crimson back.

The enemy remained as formidable as ever.

Though battered and broken by the professor’s attacks, it was still far beyond their level.

The Demon King frowned as he looked at them.

What he felt was not fear but irritation.

Not Riyan but ordinary students—mere insects daring to challenge him.

As they rushed toward him, the Demon King moved his hand.

Normally, that single gesture would have been enough to completely obliterate their bodies.

But not this time.

“I am that professor’s senior.”

A voice rang out.

An old man with white hair gripped a sword, his eyes gleaming.

“I may be a disgraceful senior who only learns and never contributes. But even so, I am Riyan’s senior!”

So, I cannot fall here.

With those words, Scott clashed blades with the enemy.

Gods and humans clashing in a battle of power—though the outcome was clear, even as his sword shattered, Scott’s determination never faltered.

The gap created by Scott’s efforts.

The students seized the opportunity and charged forward.

Of course, Gettya wasn’t going to sit back and watch.

A spell was forming.

No incantations, no constructed formulas—yet magic manifested effortlessly.

But instead of panicking, the students boldly opened their mouths and shouted:

“We could never forget what Professor Riyan taught us!”

Reversing a spell’s structure was a dreamlike feat.

Destroying its foundation before it could even manifest required Professor Riyan’s exceptional talent.

However, these were his students.

Not one, but many.

When dozens combined their strength, even if they couldn’t erase the spell entirely like him, they could disrupt it.

The students who had tirelessly trained at the Grand Leyline and the elite A-Class students, armed with specialized knowledge, worked together to counter the spell.

The black sphere dissolved before it could strike.

Gettya’s face twisted once again.

This time, it wasn’t mere irritation but outright displeasure—displeasure at the situation refusing to proceed as he had predicted.

Gettya escalated his methods, unleashing a torture curse.

A beam of light aimed at the students sought to paralyze their minds with pain and erase their very personas.

Yet the students laughed.

They laughed as if truly joyful.

“This just brings us closer to Professor Riyan.”

The swordsmanship students who stepped forward to endure the curse.

Even through the nerve-searing agony coursing through their bodies, they smiled, recalling how the professor had once endured such pain to shield his students from harm.

Sharing in his suffering felt like an honor to them.

The swordsmanship students truly believed that.

While they managed to withstand it, they were still trapped.

Some halted to dismantle the curse’s formula, while others sacrificed themselves to take the brunt of it.

Now, only one remained capable of advancing.

But that one was not alone.

Ciel stood there because everyone had supported her.

The saint poured all her divine power into blessing and protecting her.

Reinforcements from the Imperial Family fought valiantly.

Even inexperienced beastkin militia and imperial conscripts battled Gettya’s familiars.

All of them were people indebted to Professor Riyan.

They risked their lives to repay that debt.

Ciel carried the weight of those hearts.

There was no room for hesitation.

She pushed off the ground and leaped into the air.

Drawing all the magic within her body, she circulated it to its limit.

She poured every ounce of her strength into a single strike.

Her target was clear:

The path Professor Riyan had opened for them.

The fully exposed heart of Gettya.

Gettya sensed the impending danger.

He wouldn’t allow such an attack to land.

Taking advantage of her momentary preparation, he launched a counterattack.

Strike before being struck.

Kill before being killed.

A shadow, born of that instinct, lashed out toward Ciel, aiming for her life.

A perilous situation.

Yet Ciel did not waver.

Not because she had resolved herself to die long ago but for a far more fundamental, absolute reason.

She was Professor Riyan’s student.

Behind her stood Professor Riyan.

“This is still so unpolished. I can’t relax yet. It seems I’ll need to teach you all a bit more.”

A voice echoed.

A radiant light enveloped her, consuming the shadow.

Using the last remnants of his strength, the professor smiled.

Though he didn’t turn around, Ciel knew, and she smiled brighter than anyone in the world.

There was still so much to learn.

So much she wanted to say and do.

And she believed she could accomplish anything.

Because he was Professor Riyan.

Their brilliant and revered genius professor.

Her heart swelled with hope for the future.

There was no room for fear.

Ciel poured everything into her strike, swinging her sword with all her might.

And then, a radiant light engulfed the world.