Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor

Chapter 235: Flames of Rebellion [2]

The world seemed to exist for one purpose alone.

To test its people.

Franz had already lost his wife once to humanity’s greed, and his mother to her own ambitions. Those losses engraved themselves into him deeply, leaving behind an unspoken trauma in the form of abandonment.

Because of this, he grew distant, isolating himself from those who might reach out, until eventually he birthed an ability that allowed him to do anything within the confines of his home.

His stigmata, 「Unmistakable」, granted him the power to create perfect copies meant to act, move, and speak as he did. At first, they were merely extensions of his will meant to help him carry out tasks he could not face.

However, over time, the puppets became too lifelike. In time, Franz couldn’t tell which one among them was truly himself.

“You’re inefficient. So, it’s been decided you must be eliminated.”

“What a joke.”

Those were Franz’s final words. His own puppets turned on him, killing him with no remorse, taking his place. From that moment on, they reset him each time Franz became soft.

Whenever the real Franz wavered, they replaced him, ensuring he would never stray from his own principles. To never repeat the same mistakes of his foolish mother or incompetent father.

No one ever noticed the change. After all, every puppet was unmistakably Franz.

“Never let this Empire fall. That is my only wish, even if I have to become a tyrant. Because it is only through an iron fist that this Empire will remain standing.”

Those words became the law that governed his existence. Every puppet moved under that single command.

Of course, all of this had been done under Franz’s own orders. He had foreseen every possible weakness within himself and prepared the harshest solutions.

“If I ever end up becoming too much like father, kill me.”

Slash——

“If I end up becoming too much like mother, kill me.”

Slash——

“If I ever think of ending it all, kill me.”

Slash——

“If you ever see me being weak, kill me.”

Slash——

They watched their creator bleed, collapse, and die again and again, only to replace him, wearing his face and speaking with his voice.

“If I ever trust the wrong people, kill me.”

Slash——

“If I ever hesitate in front of the enemy, kill me.”

Slash——

“If I ever put someone before the Empire, kill me.”

Slash——

“If I ever abandon my duty, kill me.”

Slash——

“If I ever begin to love again, kill me.”

But even so, every puppet was still Franz. The heart wanted what it wanted, and every version of him, no matter how distorted, had learned to love his wife, Olivia.

In the unguarded corners of his fractured soul, the man who had long forgotten how to love slowly learned to see the world differently through her. Olivia became his anchor, the only thing that reminded him he was once human.

Because of her, he found warmth again. Because of her, he dared to soften.

“I’m going out, Franz,” she would say. “Grandma Carol is cooking stew for everyone today.”

“Okay, have fun,” Franz would respond.

At least once or twice a week, Olivia would leave the palace to visit elderly homes, orphanages, schools, and hospitals, offering help wherever she could.

She spent her time with people who had nothing, spoke with them, listened to their stories, and gave what little comfort she could.

It was unbelievable.

To think there was still someone in this world who believed in humanity so wholeheartedly.

No, she didn’t just believe in it. Olivia was warmth in its purest form, the living expression of compassion.

While others cursed the world for its cruelty, she continued to embrace it. She laughed with the old, soothed the sick, read stories to children who had never known love, and held the hands of those who had been forgotten.

Franz could never understand how she remained so gentle in a world like this.

Sometimes, he would watch her from a distance. She would smile, speak to people as though each one mattered.

For the first time in his life, Franz saw a side of the world he had never known.

Through Olivia, he learned that kindness still existed, even in the darkest corners.

And without realizing it, those days became the only moments he truly lived.

So when people began to slander her, claiming everything she did was merely for publicity, an uncontrollable rage welled up inside Franz.

They protested in the streets, shouting that she was a witch, that she charmed the weak so they would side with a rotten Empire. They spat on her name, twisted the narrative that her kindness was deceit, and mocked every good deed she had ever done.

“It’s okay, Franz. Let them speak.”

Her voice was calm as though none of it reached her heart. But Franz could hear the faint tremor beneath her words. Even when she smiled, her eyes wavered just enough for him to notice.

Olivia accepted all of the ridicule, the hate, and the insults. She welcomed the pain if it meant people still had the freedom to speak.

But Franz couldn’t accept it.

How could he, when the only light he had ever known was being tarnished before his eyes?

At night, when Olivia believed he was asleep, he would watch her wipe tears from her cheeks. She thought she hid it well. She thought no one saw. But Franz saw everything.

“….”

And it tore him apart.

Olivia had shown him a world worth loving, yet that very world threw stones at her.

For someone like Franz, who only knew how to protect through force, there was only one answer.

The world did not deserve her.

And if it insisted on spitting on her kindness, then he would mold it into something that did.

“…Franz, no.”

Even so, Olivia remained his anchor, more than any of his puppets ever could. The puppets ensured Franz would never break. But Olivia ensured he remained human.

She reminded him that warmth still existed. That there were still things worth holding onto.

Without her, the world became cold and colorless. With her, he remembered there were reasons to smile.

Whenever he lost himself, she brought him back. When his thoughts spiraled out of control, she kept him grounded with nothing more than a gentle touch.

The puppets could help him rule.

But Olivia helped him live.

“Franz, don’t worry. Just sit back and watch, okay? These people… they’re just lost. I understand the views they hold toward the stigma of the old regime, but we will change it, okay?”

Franz finally understood why Olivia had lived so selflessly ever since becoming Empress.

She had taken it upon herself to slowly mend the wounds of the Empire, to ease the resentment Aetherion’s people bore toward the nobility. She worked to cleanse the stain left behind by the old Emperor’s cruelty, his mother’s sins, and even Franz’s own mistakes.

She had shouldered everything, not because she was obligated, but because she believed it was the right thing to do.

“You’ve… put them all in prison?”

And Franz, impulsive by nature, had only made it harder for her. Every decision he made in haste, every reaction driven by instinct, only pushed more burden onto her shoulders.

Yet Olivia never once complained.

She smiled for him, comforted him, and reassured him that they would fix it together. She believed in a future where the Empire could be healed by compassion.

Franz wanted to believe it too.

But compassion had always been his weakness.

He didn’t know how to care for a world like this. He didn’t know how to love people who spat on his name. All he ever learned was how to endure, and how to destroy.

So, in his mind, the simplest answer had always been to force the world into submission.

But Olivia showed him another way.

A slower path.

A gentler path.

A path he never thought existed.

“Today, I’ll address the rallies,” Olivia said. “They’ve been standing outside for days. If I keep ignoring them, it’ll only make things worse.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, Franz.” Olivia shook her head. “The people are just scared. That’s why someone has to speak to them. If I stay hidden behind these walls, they’ll only believe the rumors are true.”

“….”

Franz stayed silent for a moment. He wanted to tell her not to go. He wanted to keep her close, where nothing could reach her. But Olivia had never been someone who hid when things became difficult.

“That’s dangerous,” he said.

“I know,” she replied. “But if we want change, we have to face them first.”

Olivia stepped toward him and placed a hand on his cheek. Her touch was warm.

“Franz, do you know why I’ve never scolded you despite your impulses? Despite tearing down the homes of the people who dared to spit on the nobility you cherish so much?”

“….”

“It’s because I know you’re hurting too. You don’t act out of cruelty. You act because you’re afraid of losing everything again.”

She stepped closer, her fingers gently holding onto the back of his hand.

“You’ve seen only betrayal and ambition. You’ve watched the people you loved fall apart. How could I blame you for wanting to protect what little you have left?”

Her gaze was full of warmth and understanding.

“You’re trying to save this Empire in the only way you know.”

She gave a small, rueful smile.

“But Franz… an Empire isn’t something you froce into obedience. It’s something you hold, gently.”

Her fingers tightened around his.

“I don’t scold you because I know you’re trying. And even when you fall, I want to be the one to help you stand again.”

“….”

“You’re not your father,” she whispered. “And you never will be.”

Franz’s pupils shook.

“You can be better. I know you can.”

“I…”

“So watch me, okay?” Olivia said with a smile. “Watch as I try to guide them. Watch as I show them that this Empire is capable of change. Little by little, I’ll mend the pieces. And one day, they’ll see you the way I do.”

“…”

Franz’s fingers twitched. Her warmth wrapped around him like sunlight.

“So stay here,” she continued. “Just for today. Let me be the one to face them. I’ll show you a world that doesn’t need to be ruled by fear.”

She reached up, brushing his cheek with her thumb.

“And when I come back, you can tell me all the things you’re worried about. I’ll listen to every word. So just… watch me.”

“Don’t—”

“Please, trust me.”

That gentle look in her eyes was all it took for Franz to relent. He had even ordered his puppets not to follow her and trust her.

And that decision became his greatest mistake.

“T-The Empress!”

Because Olivia walked out of the palace and never returned.

“Ah…”

Franz dismissed his attendant, and from the shadows, one of his puppets stepped forward. Its expression reflected the same sorrow that marred his own features.

Franz staggered toward it and wrapped his hands around its throat.

The puppet did not resist.

“T-This… is… your fault…”

The puppet collapsed at his feet lifelessly.

One by one, more puppets emerged from the darkness, each mirroring his grief.

“It’s your fault…”

Slash——

The puppets moved in response to the command etched deep within them. They struck him with their blades. And it didn’t take long for the Emperor to fall, blood pooling beneath him.

But before his body even lost warmth, another Franz stepped forward to replace him. And the next moment, a blade pierced his chest again.

Then another.

“It’s your fault…”

And another.

“It’s my fault…”

Soon, the puppets turned on one another.

“It’s your fault…”

“It’s my fault…”

“It’s your fault…”

“It’s my fault…”

Their voices tangled into a chorus of madness as the chamber filled with the sound of despair and tearing flesh. Each puppet moved with the same hysteria burning in his eyes, mirroring the despair of their creator.

The palace chamber became a slaughterhouse.

Slash——

Blood splattered across the floor. Bodies piled atop bodies, each one Franz, each one accusing or confessing, unable to escape the loop of grief.

Because in the end, they were all Franz.

They carried his guilt.

He didn’t know how many days had passed, maybe even weeks. Time lost meaning as they tore each other apart. The palace doors had been sealed shut with layers of magic, preventing anyone from entering.

From seeing what had become of their Emperor.

Inside, it was nothing but death, rebirth, and death again.

A cycle of punishment with no end.

“Father! Mother!”

They each cursed their parents. If they hadn’t done the things they had done, maybe things would’ve never ended up like this.

“Why…!”

But in the end, even Franz turned the blame onto himself. Because it wasn’t only his mistakes that had killed Olivia.

It was his family’s, the Aetherion’s.

When the blood finally settled, only a single Franz remained. He slumped against his throne. A broken Emperor surrounded by the corpses of countless reflections of himself.

“Not again…”

Again, he had lost his wife.

The first, killed by the very citizens she swore to protect.

And now Olivia, killed by the very people she sought to understand and accept.

Franz lowered his head. But there was nothing left. The warmth she brought, the kindness she embodied, the future she dreamed of… all of it had been swallowed by the very nation she tried to save.

“This…”

The Empire had to burn.

There was no such thing as kindness in this world.

Just like his father, just like his mother, Olivia had been foolish.

“….”

Franz clutched his head. He was losing himself, searching desperately for something, anything, he could blame.

The people.

The nobles.

The Empire.

The crown.

His bloodline.

Himself.

Everything blurred together until he couldn’t tell where one fault ended and another began.

——M-Marquess, it’s a travesty! Screaming… so much screaming inside… We’re afraid… but we can’t enter… The Archmage tried, but it’s impossible… the palace is sealed with magic not even an Archmage could dispel… only through Aetherion blood… We tried looking for the Princesses, but they’re nowhere to be seen…

——Stand back.

Muffled voices drifted through the palace doors, urgent and panicked. But Franz didn’t even lift his head. He no longer had the strength to acknowledge the world outside.

Thump——

Slowly, light began to spill into the room. The servants pushed at the entrance, trying to force their way in, but one voice stopped them cold.

——It’s dangerous. I’ll go inside alone. Don’t let anyone else in.

——Y-Yes, Marquess.

Franz blinked. Slowly… painfully… he raised his head.

“…Vanitas.”

Standing there was Vanitas, looking at him with a concerned expression.

There, standing by the doorway, was Vanitas Astrea, his adviser and best friend. Concern was evident in his expression as he didn’t even bother looking at the blood-soaked floor and the heaps of identical corpses.

Vanitas walked forward.

“Franz,” he said, “look at me.”

“….”

Vanitas stopped a few steps away, careful not to startle him.

“…You’re still here,” he murmured. “Good.”

He knelt, lowering himself to Franz’s eye level.

“V-Vanitas… she’s gone…”

“I know.”

Franz let out something between a sob and an ugly laugh.

“I… let her go. Because of my foolishness… Because of her foolishness…”

Vanitas reached out, placing a hand on Franz’s shoulder.

“Stand,” he said. “If you can still breathe, then stand.”

But Franz only shook his head weakly.

“There’s nothing left.”

Vanitas drew in a slow breath. “That’s wrong. The Empire is still here. And the bastards who dared to parade her head like a trophy are still out there…”

“…”

Franz’s eyes widened. Isolated inside the palace, he hadn’t known. And truthfully, a small part of him wished he had never heard it.

“V-Vanitas… K-Kill them… kill them all… this Empire…”

In the past, Vanitas would have fought to stop such destruction.

But now, Vanitas shared the same sentiments.

“Yes. It must burn.”

This Empire was no longer worth saving.

“Until no stone is left unturned.”