Why Did You Mess With Him? He’s the Evil God’s Lackey! Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Pain

Heni held her coursebook and patiently explained to Professor Dewen:

"This is sothing Professor Viktor has permitted."

"Professor Viktor is not here at the mont, so he asked to cover the lectures in his absence."

What she received in return was a contemptuous snort.

"You are nothing more than a Teaching Assistant—you have not even crossed the threshold of a 1st-Tier Mage. What level of teaching could you possibly offer?"

"On top of that, you are teaching the best class in the entire Academy. Do you have any idea what a monuntal responsibility that is?"

"If the students' grades slip, will you be able to shoulder that responsibility?"

The majority of students at the Royal Magic Academy ca from noble families—especially in a class of top-tier talent like this one, where commoner students were few and far between.

To Dewen, the idea of soone like Heni—who could not even be called a commoner—teaching this class was as absurd as a beggar telling an emperor how delicious a stead bun was.

Professor Dewen shifted his rotund body. Even just these few steps and this brief exchange had left him feeling sowhat winded.

He dug a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, dabbed at the greasy sweat on his forehead, and stuffed it back in.

Seeing Professor Dewen like that, Heni could not help but put a little more distance between them.

And yet Professor Dewen continued:

"Class 1 deserves the finest teaching resources. You want to give them magic lessons? A refugee who cannot even be called a commoner—what right do you have to teach anyone!"

"I suggest you do exactly what you did before—slink back out of this Academy and never let see your face again!"

Dewen grew more and more worked up as he spoke, spittle beginning to fly freely from his lips.

Fortunately, Heni was standing far enough away that none of it landed on her.

Heni could not help but push back: "This is Professor Viktor's course. With the Professor currently away from the Academy, it is naturally my duty as his Teaching Assistant to prepare the lessons in his place. Do you have so objection to that?"

The mont Dewen heard Heni invoke Viktor's na—again—his expression darkened at once. He fixed her with a cold stare and said:

"You know rather a lot for a little brat like you."

"But I would prefer you not ntion that bastard Viktor in front of again."

Heni's face flushed, her heart beginning to thud in her chest, a flicker of fire sparking in her eyes:

"Professor Dewen! You are insulting Mr. Viktor!"

"Professor Viktor is the youngest 3rd-Tier Mage in the Academy! He is deeply learned and accomplished—what gives you the right to speak of him like that?"

"What gives the right?"

Professor Dewen's voice suddenly jumped several notes higher as he said with sharp mockery:

"You had better first find out what he has been doing all these days he has been away before you co and speak to !"

As he said it, he produced a Magic Stone and tossed it into the air.

The Magic Stone hovered in midair, rotated once, and slowly began to glow. A scene materialized before the 2 of them.

In the vision, the volcano surged with violent activity, on the verge of erupting. Countless Mages stood at the Mid-slope, preparing to unleash War Magic. The volcano shuddered violently, like a monstrous beast about to fly into a rage.

A blinding white light blazed up in an instant, swallowing the entire scene.

Then the Magic Stone lost its glow and dropped to the ground, rolling with a clatter to rest at Professor Dewen's feet.

Dewen stepped aside, spotted the Magic Stone at his feet, and picked it back up.

He fixed Heni with a snide look and asked: "What did you see?"

Heni was confused. She knew that a large number of Mages had left the Royal Capital so ti ago, but soone of her standing had absolutely no opportunity to learn anything about a volcanic eruption.

She had therefore been completely in the dark about the recent upheaval in the Royal Capital.

And now, Professor Dewen offered his explanation:

"That volcano did not erupt naturally!"

"Soone triggered it deliberately!"

Heni's body gave a faint shudder at those words.

"Do you want to know who?"

Heni looked at Professor Dewen's cold, cutting gaze. A suspicion ford in her mind—but she imdiately dismissed it.

Dewen caught her hesitation and pressed in with a sneer:

"That's right—none other than your esteed Professor Viktor!"

"He provoked the Calamity and caused the volcano to erupt. And so he paid the price for his actions—he died in that volcano!"

At those words, Heni shook her head and rushed to argue back:

"Impossible! How could the Professor ever do sothing like that?"

"He is so powerful—how could he possibly die in a volcano!"

Professor Dewen shook his head with disdain and continued:

"A refugee is always a refugee in the end. He nearly triggered a catastrophe that could not be stopped."

"But you—the very first thing you ask about is whether he lived or died?"

"Trash will always be trash! Trash belongs in the rubbish heap—not here at the Magic Academy, contaminating the environnt!"

Heni's gaze went blank. She stood rooted to the spot, the words 'impossible' leaving her lips over and over again.

Dewen shook his head, entirely unbothered by Heni's shock, and went on:

"This is accepted fact among all the Mages."

"Before long, the Emperor will announce his verdict on Viktor's cris."

Heni suddenly realized—the Professor Dewen standing before her was one of the very few 2nd-Tier Mages who had not left during that period.

So he had not witnessed it with his own eyes.

Her voice trembling slightly, she asked:

"So you did not actually see Professor Viktor die with your own eyes—did you?"

"And what of it? The cris he committed cannot be undone! Even if he is alive, he has no face left to show in the Royal Capital!"

The re thought of Viktor's downfall sent a wave of excitent through Professor Dewen. Sweat squeezed out all over his body, soaking through his thin clothes.

"Heh—I will be submitting a request to the Principal. Starting tomorrow, Viktor's lessons will be handed over to ."

"As for you—start packing your things and get out of this Academy!"

Professor Dewen strutted off like a haughty rooster, chin raised in contempt as he looked down on Heni, swaggering away without a backward glance.

Heni was left standing alone at the corner, books clutched to her chest.

Her mind was in disarray. She could only walk toward the classroom on instinct.

The mont she stepped into Class 1, what little noise there had been faded into quiet.

The students saw the familiar figure of Teaching Assistant Heni, and no one made much of a reaction.

Over the days since Professor Viktor's departure, Teaching Assistant Heni's abilities as an instructor had earned the general recognition of virtually all the students.

But today, sothing seed off about the Teaching Assistant.

The easy warmth she usually carried was nowhere to be found, replaced by distraction and a face heavy with worry.

Heni walked up to the podium with leaden steps and set her thick coursebook down on the lectern.

Her gaze swept across the students below, coming to rest deliberately on a seat in the very front row.

That was Erika's seat. And at this mont, it sat empty.

Just like Professor Viktor—ever since the Mages had set out and left the Royal Capital, Erika had not co to school in a very long ti either.

The 2 of them had vanished as though by arrangent, leaving Heni without a single person she could turn to.

She desperately wanted to know the truth of what had happened—including whether Viktor was really dead.

But with Erika absent, she had no source of information whatsoever.

And so Heni had no choice but to stretch a strained smile across her face and begin the lesson.

Whatever happened, the students' coursework could not be allowed to fall behind.

"Alright—today's lesson will cover 《On the Composition of Traditional Imperial Magic Patterns》……"

Before long, Heni had found her rhythm again, and the students below were listening with focused attention.

Everything seed to be going smoothly.

Halfway through the lesson, Heni was reading from the text when she suddenly froze.

A line of black letters had materialized over the contents of the page, writhing across it as though alive.

Heni lurched in fright, and the book ca down hard against the lectern.

The black letters extended tendrils in all directions, spreading outward, as though they were about to coil around Heni the very next mont.

The letters scattered across the page grew increasingly frenzied, clawing desperately for sothing.

Yet the words themselves had not changed—

'You—do you desire power?'

Heni had finally reached her absolute limit. She slamd a hand down on the lectern and snapped furiously:

"I do not need it!"

The classroom fell dead silent. Every student stared, stunned, with no idea what had provoked their Teaching Assistant into such a sudden outburst.

Only once she had let it out did Heni catch herself. She could only lower her head, bow toward the students, and offer an apology.

Then she picked up her book and stumbled her way through the rest of the lesson, her mind far away from what she was saying.

When the bell rang to signal the end of class, Heni did not even announce its conclusion—she snatched up her books and bolted out the door before anyone else had moved.

Walking along the path, Heni kept her head down, not saying a word.

She had the feeling that a number of people nearby were staring at her, and the unease of it was making her irritable.

Heni spun around sharply. The passersby around her were all either hurrying sowhere, reading as they walked, or chatting in pairs—nobody was looking at her at all.

Perhaps the things Professor Dewen had said today had gotten inside her head.

Heni tried very hard to stop herself from thinking about Viktor, but even now, she still hoped that Professor Viktor was not dead.

In this Academy, he was the only one who had ever cared about her.

"Stop."

A cold, imperious voice rang out from behind her.

Heni flinched, and turned around.

Standing there was Professor Dewen.

Professor Dewen had an insufferably smug expression as he thrust a sheet of paper in front of Heni's face.

Heni picked it up and read it. She could not believe what she was seeing.

Written on it, plain and clear, were the words:

'Due to Professor Viktor's prolonged failure to return to the Academy, the lessons of Class 1 will henceforth be taken over by Professor Dewen.'

Reading that, Heni's body began to tremble faintly, and the color drained from her face. She stared at Professor Dewen in disbelief.

Professor Dewen fixed her with a look of triumphant satisfaction and said:

"As a Professor, I have the authority to dismiss a Teaching Assistant like you—one who cannot even call herself a Mage."

"Starting tomorrow, you need not co to this Academy anymore!"

From the coursebook in Heni's hands, a startling fla suddenly blazed to life, lunging like a venomous serpent, consuming it hungrily.

No matter how desperately Heni beat at it, the searing pain scorching both her hands could not extinguish it.

She was so panicked she was almost in tears, her voice cracking into a sob as she cried out:

"No! No!"

But the flas of magic were not so easily put out.

In the end, with all resistance exhausted, Heni sank to her knees in grief on the ground, covered from head to toe in ash and soot. And that book—the one filled with everything she had written—crumbled into nothing.

It had been her only labor of love. Her knowledge. Her dream.

All of it, consud in those flas.

More and more people gathered at the roadside, but not a single one stepped forward to offer comfort.

No one would spare a thought for a minor Teaching Assistant—least of all one who now looked as wretched and disheveled as she did.

Professor Dewen had humiliated her in public, and left satisfied.

From beginning to end, he had never once considered Heni worth a second thought.

This was the hostility others bore toward Viktor, redirected.

The mont Heni had beco Viktor's Teaching Assistant, they had transferred all their enmity for Viktor onto her.

Even though she was nothing more than an innocent Teaching Assistant.

In the eyes of those people, Heni was a convenient and obvious target to take out their frustrations on.

When they bullied her, they did so without the slightest twinge of conscience.

At that mont, the ground seed to stir as though bewitched, and those black letters rose once more—dark and unfathomable.

Unlike before, they had grown more violent, more contorted, more frayed at the edges.

Like an on-bearer harboring ill will, they appeared before Heni once again.

'You—do you desire power?'

And this ti, Heni's answer was:

"I desire power. If it is possible……I want to have power……"

She hated herself for her own uselessness, her own weakness.

She had only ever been a burden to Professor Viktor.

She did not want to go on like this anymore.

After Heni answered, the black letters froze as though suspended in ti, their writhing ceasing all at once—and then, like a breath of wind, they dispersed and vanished.

So Heni waited.

She hoped that so surge of power might suddenly descend upon her.

She hoped that she would no longer be so easy for others to bully.

She hoped that she could be of better help to Professor Viktor, and to those who cared about her.

At last, 1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

"Hahaha! Look at her—she actually believed it!"

"I knew it—just like Professor Dewen said. Soone like her, a talentless waste, the mont she sees a shortcut to becoming stronger, she will absolutely fall for it!"

"Soone who wants sothing for nothing—spending every single day thinking about whether she can get stronger, yet not willing to put in even a shred of effort!"

Mocking laughter erupted from all around her. Several students ca bursting out from the bushes, doubling over with laughter right in front of Heni.

The laughter landed like blade after mocking blade, driving deep into Heni's chest. An indescribable anguish surged all the way up to her throat, leaving her unable to utter a single word.

Heni lowered her head, burying her face in her robe.

Don't cry……

The onlookers watching from the roadside. The jeering laughter surrounding her.

Each one like another slash of a blade.

She felt no physical pain, yet it was as though her heart was bleeding.

Don't cry, Heni! Don't cry!

The tears she had been holding back with everything she had could no longer be contained.

They fell like pearls, pat, pat, pat, dropping onto the ground.

Splashing onto the ashes. Soaking into her robe.

A sharp, ragged sob rang out along the roadside.

As though trying to cut herself off entirely from the heartless laughter, the indifference, the contempt.