Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor - Chapter 307: Descensus Ad Nihilum [2]
“I’ll give all of you one last chance to live,” Vanitas said coldly. “Flee now, and you’ll get to see another day. But if you remain standing before me…”
The pressure radiating from the balcony intensified the moment those words left his mouth.
The atmosphere throughout the throne chamber became suffocatingly heavy as overwhelming mana spread outward from Vanitas Astrea’s body, swallowing the entire space whole.
“…I’ll kill every single one of you.”
The threat alone immediately caused everyone present to tense up.
Fear settled across the room. Knights tightened their grips around their weapons while mages hesitated mid-cast, their instincts screaming at them that provoking the man now seated upon the Imperial Throne would result in nothing short of slaughter.
Even Irene had to pause.
She had been moments away from lashing out again, but the instant she truly felt the horrifying pressure emanating from Vanitas Astrea, her body instinctively stopped itself.
The mana radiating from him no longer resembled something human anymore. It felt monstrous and so overwhelmingly oppressive that Irene immediately understood a terrifying reality.
No one currently inside this palace could stop him.
To stand against Vanitas Astrea in his current state required far more than ordinary power.
They would need monsters capable of rivaling him directly. Someone like the Archmage himself. Perhaps even multiple Great Powers gathered together at once merely to force him back.
Otherwise, this would simply become a meaningless massacre.
To defeat a monster like Vanitas Astrea, they would need another monster.
Live long enough to see another day?
Or die here, accomplishing absolutely nothing?
Truthfully, the answer was obvious.
It was a complete no-brainer.
Meanwhile, seated upon the Imperial Throne itself, Vanitas rested his head against one hand while calmly overlooking everyone gathered beneath him.
Franz Barielle Aetherion’s blood still stained his fingers, yet despite the horrifying scene surrounding him, his expression remained terrifyingly composed.
The corpse of the Emperor had only moments ago been thrown from the balcony before the eyes of the entire capital, and yet Vanitas himself looked no more disturbed than a man finishing an ordinary conversation.
Eventually, one by one, people began retreating from the throne chamber.
Irene bit her lip hard enough to nearly draw blood before finally turning away, fully aware that remaining here any longer would only lead to pointless death. The foreign knights and mages accompanying her quickly followed behind.
Meanwhile, the Imperial Knights who had remained behind for security purposes stood frozen in place, visibly uncertain of what they were even supposed to do anymore.
“M-Marquess Astrea—”
“It’s Your Highness now,” Vanitas interrupted flatly.
“….”
Vanitas slowly leaned back against the throne before continuing.
“All of you,” he said, “suppress the riots. It’s going to be a very busy week for the Empire.”
“….”
However, despite receiving a direct order, none of the knights immediately moved.
The atmosphere throughout the throne chamber grew strangely heavy afterward.
Because the knights standing there were no longer merely confused soldiers receiving orders from a superior. They were men who had just witnessed their Emperor murdered by the very person now sitting upon the throne.
And deep down, Most of them already understood they had chosen the wrong side long ago.
Yet despite that realization, they had continued following orders out of fear.
Fear that if they disobeyed, it would be their families’ next. Their homes, their children, their loved ones would be caught in the wrath of the throne if they stepped out of line.
So they endured.
They obeyed.
They abandoned pieces of their morality little by little in exchange for survival.
But now, standing before the Imperial Throne with Franz dead and Vanitas Astrea openly crowning himself Emperor, they were genuinely at a loss for what they were supposed to do anymore.
Seeing the hesitation written across their faces, Vanitas let out a sigh.
“If you don’t want to, then don’t. I’m not going to hold it against any of you.”
“….”
Silence filled the throne chamber afterward.
The knights standing before him had already prepared themselves to be threatened, coerced, or forced into obedience.
That was the kind of ruler they expected from Vanitas Astrea. Anyone else would’ve thought the same.
One of the older knights slowly lowered his gaze toward the ground.
“…Y-Your Highness,” he finally spoke after a long silence. “What exactly are we supposed to do?”
“….’
“What are we… supposed to expect for our future?”
Once the bloodshed finally ended, the hatred directed toward Vanitas Astrea would inevitably spread toward them as well.
Toward the Imperial Knights.
Toward the soldiers who remained standing beside the throne.
Toward every single person who chose survival over rebellion.
History would never remember them kindly.
To the people, they would become collaborators serving a tyrant.
To neighboring nations, they would become the military force protecting a demon.
And perhaps worst of all… none of them genuinely believed peace would ever truly return after this.
Aetherion would become a nation permanently trapped within internal conflict, political unrest, suffering, and fear.
Even if Vanitas successfully maintained control of the Empire, there would always be rebellions. Assassination attempts. Civil unrest. Endless hatred festering all through society.
The Empire would continue to exist, but perhaps it would never truly live again.
“…The future?”
For several moments, silence filled the throne chamber.
Then, eventually, Vanitas slowly leaned back against the Imperial Throne before answering in an almost indifferent tone.
“There won’t be a future,” he said, “unless I do what needs to be done.”
The knights exchanged uneasy glances amongst themselves before one of them finally gathered enough courage to speak again.
“T-Then… Your Majesty… are the rumors true?”
“…Which rumors?”
The knight visibly swallowed. “…That you’ve been colluding with the cult.”
Asking that question aloud already bordered on treasonous territory.
And yet, Vanitas answered them regardless.
“It’s true.”
“….”
“But that’s not any of your concern.”
“Y-Your Majesty…” another knight spoke in confusion. “The cult has caused countless deaths throughout the Empire. They’re responsible for terrorism, sacrifices, dark magic, and—”
“I know.”
Vanitas interrupted him flatly.
The knight immediately fell silent.
For a brief moment, the only sound remaining throughout the throne chamber was the distant chaos continuing outside the palace walls.
There was not much conversation after that.
The knights exchanged glances amongst themselves before eventually gripping their swords once more and making their way out of the throne chamber to suppress the chaos throughout the capital.
Whether they genuinely accepted Vanitas as Emperor or were simply moving out of obligation and survival no longer mattered anymore.
Meanwhile, seated quietly upon the Imperial Throne, Vanitas remained alone within the chamber.
Or rather, almost alone.
“…Mister Vanitas.”
The only person who had not left was Kafka.
The boy quietly approached the throne while staring directly at him.
“I don’t understand,” Kafka said after a moment. “Why did you let them all go?”
“…?”
“I thought… I thought we were going to kill them all…”
“….”
“…I still don’t understand …You have enough power to force everyone in this Empire to submit to you.”
His gaze slowly lowered.
“So why… why not kill them all?”
“….”
“You should make them suffer,” Kafka continued. “The same way… the same way I suffered…”
“Kafka Rossweisse.”
The boy immediately tensed at the sound of his full name.
“….”
Vanitas’s amethyst eyes remained fixed upon him.
“Is that why you chose to help me?” he asked. “Because you wanted the rest of the world to suffer the same way you did?”
Kafka remained silent for several moments before eventually answering.
“…Isn’t that what makes things fair? You let my father die. You killed him.”
“….”
“So shouldn’t everyone else suffer because of you, too?”
The throne chamber fell silent afterward.
For a moment, Vanitas simply continued looking at the child standing before him without immediately answering.
“Fairness,” Vanitas began. “Humans really love that word.”
“….”
“You think suffering becomes meaningful just because it spreads to other people?” Vanitas asked. “That if enough innocent people cry and lose everything, then somehow your own pain becomes lighter?”
Kafka immediately lowered his gaze. “I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what you want.”
“….”
Vanitas slowly leaned back against the throne.
“The truth is,” he continued, “people don’t seek fairness after suffering.”
“….”
“They seek validation.”
“….”
“Humans want the world to acknowledge that their pain mattered. And when the world refuses to do that… they start wanting the world itself to bleed alongside them.”
The hatred festering inside Kafka had long since stopped being solely about his father’s death. Somewhere along the way, his grief had gradually transformed into resentment toward the world itself.
Toward happy people.
Toward ordinary families.
Toward everyone who still had things he himself had lost long ago.
Then, Vanitas quietly spoke again.
“But revenge doesn’t heal people, Kafka.”
“….”
“It just gives suffering a new owner.”
“….”
“Do you want me to apologize? Because I won’t.”
“….”
“Your father chose to become a knight,” Vanitas continued. “And as a knight, he died.”
“There was nothing honorable about my father’s death at all—”
“Let me tell you something,” Vanitas interrupted him. “Something I’ve never bothered explaining to anyone before.”
“….”
“I heard you’re from the countryside. So you’re probably not fully aware of how the politics of this Empire actually function.”
Truthfully, explaining concepts like this to an eight-year-old child sounded ridiculous.
But perhaps precisely because Kafka was still a child, Vanitas found it easier to speak honestly.
“This Empire,” Vanitas began, “and honestly, this entire world, has always been divided into social classes.”
“….”
“And no, I’m not talking merely about nobles and commoners on paper,” Vanitas clarified. “I’m talking about social value.”
His gaze slowly drifted toward the distant balcony overlooking the capital.
“Commoners are not treated as people here,” he said. “They’re treated as resources. Livestock to feed the economy. Bodies to throw into wars. Workers meant to spend their entire lives building wealth they themselves will never possess.”
“….”
“Meanwhile, most of the nobility…. have never accomplished a single meaningful thing in their lives.”
“….”
“They inherit wealth. Inherit influence. Inherit titles. Inherit power. And then they spend the rest of their lives convincing themselves they somehow earned those things through superiority rather than luck.”
The distant riots throughout the capital continued echoing beyond the palace walls.
“This Empire praises hierarchy because hierarchy protects the people already standing at the top,” Vanitas continued. “And every political ideology born throughout history eventually becomes nothing more than another method of preserving or redistributing power.”
“….”
“Nationalism convinces people to die for flags and borders while nobles profit from their patriotism.”
“….”
“Fascism promises order through fear while crushing individuality before authority.”
“….”
“Socialism promises equality, but eventually falls due to human greed and corruption the moment power centralizes again.”
“….”
“Democracy gives people the illusion of choice while wealth secretly decides outcomes behind closed doors, regardless.”
Vanitas slowly rested his chin against one hand.
“Every system humans create eventually becomes flawed because humans themselves are flawed.”
“….”
“Your father died because the Empire required more bodies for war. And because people like him are considered expendable by the society they serve.”
Kafka’s fists slowly clenched.
“That’s the reality nobles won’t openly admit,” Vanitas continued. “The Empire praises knights publicly while privately viewing them as replaceable assets.”
Vanitas looked directly at Kafka once more.
“And yet despite all of that… Your father still chose to become one anyway.”
Kafka remained silent for several moments before finally speaking.
“…What exactly are you trying to tell me?”
Instead of answering immediately, Vanitas simply looked back at him with a calm expression.
“What do you think I’m trying to say?”
“….”
The question caused Kafka to fall into thought.
For a child, his expression looked unnaturally serious as he quietly processed everything Vanitas had just explained regarding the Empire, social classes, war, and human nature itself.
Eventually, after several moments of silence, Kafka slowly answered.
“…Everyone is divided.”
Vanitas smiled faintly. “Correct.”
He slowly leaned back against the Imperial Throne once more.
“For years, humanity has continued dividing itself further and further apart,” he continued calmly. “People who once survived together in groups now spend most of their lives separating themselves through status, ideology, wealth, race, politics, religion, or power.”
“….”
“Unity no longer truly exists. Everyone simply pursues their own selfish interests while pretending they care about the greater whole.”
“….”
“Now, what happens when someone with genuine power finally appears? Someone beyond political influence. Beyond social standing. Beyond wealth, military force, public opinion, or even conventional power itself.”
Kafka frowned while thinking about the question.
“…Humans would try to destroy him.”
“And how would they accomplish that?”
Kafka hesitated for a moment before eventually answering.
“…By working together.”
“Correct.”
Kafka’s eyes widened upon Vanitas’s confirmation.
At that moment, ever since meeting this man, Kafka finally began to understand what Vanitas Astrea had truly been trying to accomplish all this time.
“…You’re trying to become that thing,” Kafka continued. “The thing humanity will unite against…”
A faint smile appeared across Vanitas’s face.
He didn’t confirm anything.
But to Kafka, that was an answer enough.
“For centuries, humanity has failed to unite through peace,” Vanitas said. “Failed through morality. Failed through diplomacy. Failed through politics.”
“….”
“But hatred… hatred unites people frighteningly well.”
At those words, Kafka’s expression visibly shifted.
For the first time since Vanitas had met the boy, genuine emotion finally surfaced clearly across his face.
His brows furrowed deeply before he suddenly stepped forward and boldly grabbed Vanitas by the collar, clutching the fabric tightly.
“You told me you’d offer me your head…” Kafka spat. “You said I could kill you…”
His small hands trembled, but he didn’t let go.
“So why are you suddenly talking like you’re willing to die by someone else’s hand instead?!”
For several moments, Vanitas simply looked down at him before speaking.
“Promises are meant to be broken.”
Kafka’s eyes widened in anger.
“You—”
“Kill?” Vanitas interrupted. “That’s far too heavy a word for a boy like you.”
Before Kafka could react, Vanitas lightly tapped the boy’s forehead with a finger.
The gesture itself felt absurdly casual considering the conversation they were having.
“I’m a professor,” Vanitas said. “My role is to guide the youth.”
“….”
“Especially the ones who lose their way.”
“….”
“Especially someone like you.”
“….”
The boy genuinely looked uncertain.
Because no matter how much hatred he had toward Vanitas Astrea, the man before him had treated him like a child. And in turn, Vanitas had acted like a genuine adult, speaking to him more honestly than most adults ever had.
Then, eventually, Vanitas continued.
“Kafka,” he said. “Children shouldn’t devote their lives to revenge.”
“….”
“Your father’s death was tragic,” Vanitas admitted. “But if you dedicate your entire existence toward hatred afterward… then eventually your father’s death becomes the only thing you’ll ever live for.”
Kafka fell silent afterward.
Then, Vanitas asked another question.
“What happens after I die?”
“….”
“What if you kill me?” Vanitas continued. “What happens afterward?”
The boy tightened his fists once more.
“Then I’ll follow my father—”
Tap.
Before Kafka could fully finish speaking, Vanitas lightly tapped his forehead again.
“Fool.”
Kafka immediately looked up at him.
Vanitas let out a sigh through his nose before slowly leaning back against the throne once more.
“Your father did not die so his son could throw his own life away chasing after him,” he said. “No parent wishes for that.”
“….”
“You think death is some grand reunion waiting for you at the end of suffering,” Vanitas continued. “But that’s just another convenient fantasy humans tell themselves because they’re afraid of continuing forward alone.”
Kafka visibly lowered his gaze.
“Living is difficult,” Vanitas admitted. “Far more difficult than dying.”
“….”
“Anyone can die for something. Hatred. Ideals. Revenge. Pride.”
“….”
“But continuing to live despite all of it… That’s the part most people fail at.”
A smile appeared across his face.
“That’s the part even I failed at.”
“….”
The man seated upon the Imperial Throne no longer sounded like some untouchable monster towering above humanity.
He sounded tired.
“Before all of this,” Vanitas continued, “there was a time when I genuinely wanted to end everything after my younger sister was taken from me.”
At that moment, Kafka’s grip slowly loosened around Vanitas’s collar.
“Just like you,” he admitted, “I started moving purely because I wanted the world to suffer alongside me.”
His fingers lightly rested against the armrest of the throne.
“I wanted people to understand my pain. I wanted the world itself to bleed for taking something precious away from me.”
“….”
“Then somewhere along the way… I realized something.”
Kafka listened in silence, finally letting go of Vanitas’s collar.
“The greatest revenge I could possibly enact against this world’s injustice… was not destruction.”
“….”
“It was breaking the chains binding humanity itself.”
Kafka frowned slightly.
Vanitas looked toward the distant riots consuming the capital.
“Humans are born into systems they never chose,” he continued. “People spend their entire lives trapped under invisible shackles while convincing themselves that suffering under those systems is simply ’normal.’”
The newly crowned Emperor slowly leaned back against the throne once more.
“So I decided… if humanity was going to destroy itself regardless…”
“….”
“…Then I might as well force it to evolve first.”
“….”
“So after all of this is over… live, Kafka Rossweisse.”
“….”
“Live long enough so that everything I’ve done up until now actually meant something.”
“That sounds incredibly selfish… You’re basically forcing your ideals onto everyone else while pretending it’s for humanity’s sake.”
“Correct.”
Kafka raised a brow, surprised by how easily Vanitas admitted it without even attempting to defend himself.
Bang——!
At that moment, the throne chamber doors suddenly burst open.
“Your Highness!”
A knight hurried inside while panting heavily, sweat visibly running down his face as though he had sprinted throughout the palace without stopping even once.
Vanitas immediately frowned at the abrupt interruption. The atmosphere throughout the throne chamber instantly grew colder.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“I-In the cathedral district…” he stammered out hurriedly. “T-There have been reports regarding the Saintess!”
“Huh?”
After hearing the report, Vanitas vanished from the throne chamber entirely.
