The Academy’s Professor is Overpowered!

—SLAP!

I slapped my cheeks and took in a deep breath. 

The door to the classroom slid open, and I stepped inside.

“Good morning!” 

All the noise in the classroom hushed down as the students turned my way. Their expressions were the same as ever—some were happy in class, and some couldn’t wait to get out of it. It had already become a familiar sight to me.

I smiled brightly at the students—a smile familiar to them—and stepped up on the podium to begin the roll call. A perfect attendance again.

“Everyone had fun at the Club Exhibition?” I asked as I leaned against the lectern.

They nodded their heads and groaned. One student’s shout cut through the classroom.

“Quiz time! I want a rematch!” Student Quinton complained. He shot up from his chair and glared at us, the Black Rose Club Hunters. Quinton was vexed enough to say ‘quiz time’ and not start a quiz. 

Well, getting destroyed by the saintess in quizzes despite being dubbed the Quiz-Boy must be hurtful.

Before anyone could answer Quinton, the sound of a lute interrupted. 

“Skills blaze bright, each flame unique. Yet mine still burns! At the undefeated peak.”

It was Lute-Man Luke. The classroom let out a united groan the second he opened his mouth. 

“What is he saying now?” Rosentea did not bother hiding her frown with her fan. Everyone shared her sentiments as they glared daggers at the man.

For the sake of the students, I decided to interpret.

“He says every one of you was defeated despite being hot stuff. Everyone except him.”

All the students groaned once more. 

“Wait, professor!” A low growl thundered in the classroom. Zacka, the muscular dwarf who could harden his body enough to tank the ogre, shot up from his chair. “You mean you and the Club Hunters targeted every club other than the clown’s? Why!?”

“Student Zacka, no calling someone a clown.”

“Sorry.” 

Wow. For a voice that loud, he was docile.

Lute-lad (or whatever these kids called him) was in the literature club. When we neared the literature club, the other club hunters turned tails and dashed away like cheetahs.

I couldn’t blame them. No one could.

“Tell me, Student Zacka,” I said. My eyes mellowed down as I smiled wryly. 
“In our shoes, would you have targeted his club?”

Zacka lowered his eyes and apologized again.

“No, I’d die before I do that…”

I may have been wrong in my assessment. The big shots of the classroom weren’t Ier, Yuliana, or Elara—true power was always in the hands of the lute dude.

The ways of the world were mysterious. Despite my experience, I couldn’t have guessed this outcome for the classroom power dynamics.

Did their treatment of Luke count as bullying? Luke got a real kick from their reactions, so I’d think it didn’t.

I best keep an eye on Luke in the future. Though, I was sure he could handle himself. For now, there was no need to keep this conversation rolling. I changed the topic before they could say another word about death and the hunters and whatnot.

“The first lecture is mine, so I’ll start a little earlier. We will continue with basic grammar.”

I turned toward the board and pulled it down. I grabbed a piece of chalk and started writing some common sentences in the demonic language.

I got some respite from the kids, but my mind was far too distracted today. Keeping the lecture simple was for the best. Something I could teach without much thought.

“Professor!”

Right as I was about to start, an interruption came my way. I was used to the voice. The same student uttered the same word in almost every lecture.

“Yes, student Seren?” I spoke without turning back.

“How do the demons handle their funerals… for their dead?”

My hands froze at her words.

I pursed my lips and closed my eyes. With a sigh, I turned back toward the students. “Why do you ask?”

“The talk about death made me curious,” Seren said, a soft smile on her face. “It’s rarely a thought since I won’t be dying anytime soon, but you know a lot about demons.”

I placed the chalk down and leaned against the blackboard. The elf didn’t mind death. She also didn’t care about a lot of other things. Seren always smiled when she asked her questions as if nothing concerned her above being a topic of amusement.

“The dead… huh?”

My eyes gazed over the students. Was it alright to talk to them about this? It should be.

But… they all must have lost a lot of people. I saw Iaso sitting listlessly at the back. And then Atlas, he too was looking at me with deep intrigue.

I sighed. The innocent question of a child was just that, a question. There was no need to overthink it.

“It is something I admire about the demons,” I said. “I am sure almost everyone on the front lines was impressed when we saw them.”

The students all relaxed and stared at me.

“The demons, on the day their people die, cry a lot. Like anyone would, they let out all their tears and screams, every last bit of grief they could muster. They mourn and mourn until some of them find it hard to scream anymore.”

I could almost see those days again. The pain and grief that would make anyone watching falter. Even the hardest of demons cried their hearts out.

“And when the night falls, they build a pyre and cremate the bodies of the dead…”

Unlike the Church of the Sun, which taught us to bury, the demons all cremated their dead. They were beings blessed by immense mana—cremation was the fastest way to return to nature.

“But…” A smile started tugging at my lips. Right, I could almost see those days again. “For the entire time the fire burns, they do not shed another tear.”

As long as the smoke guided their spirits back to nature, every time the ones that had passed away looked behind…

“They celebrate their lives. With bright smiles and music. A celebration of everything the dead did. The demons reassure the ones gone that the ones who remain will live on… that they will remember. As long as the fire lasts, they drink, dance, and be merry.”

So the ones who looked back could go with an easy heart.

“How beautiful…” muttered Seren. “I’d like my life to be celebrated too…”

Was it beautiful? In my eyes, it wasn’t so.

One last round of trickery for the dead. That’s what it meant. 

My fists clenched tight.

That’s right. Those demons all tricked the ones gone. They hid the pain the ones who had passed by left them. They masked it, draped it. Was a single day of mourning and a single night of celebration enough to make up for a lifetime of memories?

And so what if you cried today? Their absence invaded your mind when the ones you needed around weren’t there anymore.

A sigh left me.

All of those were my opinions. There was no need to force it on these kids.

I smiled at Seren’s words.

“If you do good deeds, people will remember you with a smile. Be kind, and that should be enough. Any other questions, Seren?”

The girl shook her head.

I picked the chalk back up and turned around to the board. As I faced away from the kids, the smile that I wore was swept away.

Today was shaping up to be a troublesome day.