DEMON KING'S Love Redemption

Chapter 6: Magic Ethics Class

The morning sun hung low in the east, casting an amber glow through the stained-glass windows of the Hall of Wisdom. This room was the heart of moral theory at Aethelgard Academy. Unlike the training grounds that rang with the clash of steel or the laboratories thick with the scent of sulfur, the Hall of Wisdom was forever filled with the fragrance of sandalwood and the dust of ancient volumes lining the walls up to the vaulted ceiling.

Vann sat in the middle row, attempting to fold his lanky frame into the stiff oak chair. He was determined this morning: no killing intent, no mana spikes, and most importantly, no misunderstandings. He wore his uniform with meticulous care, buttoning his collar to the very top and slicking back his black hair so it wouldn't shroud his eyes—features often described as "intimidating."

"You look like a nobleman attending a funeral," whispered Elric, who sat beside him, trembling slightly. Elric kept glancing toward the classroom door as if expecting an execution squad to burst in at any moment.

"I simply wish to show respect for the subject of ethics, Elric," Vann replied flatly. He tried to soften his voice, but his heavy baritone still rumbled like muffled thunder behind a cloud bank.

"The problem is, your face doesn't say 'respect.' Your face says 'I am about to pass judgment on your entire bloodline,'" Elric muttered, swallowing hard.

Vann ignored the comment. His focus shifted as the hall's massive doors swung open. Freya entered with the Elite Class. Today, she had traded her armor for an elegant navy academy cloak. Her golden hair was tied low, lending her an air of quiet maturity. However, when those ocean-blue eyes swept the room and landed on Vann, her composure instantly sharpened into keen vigilance.

Freya chose a seat in the front row, though she angled herself so she could keep an eye on Vann from the periphery. Feeling her gaze, Vann gave a small, impeccably polite nod. In Vann’s mind, it was a friendly greeting to a comrade. In Freya’s eyes, it was the gesture of a predator marking its prey.

Moments later, Professor Elara strode in. She was a middle-aged woman with silver-rimmed spectacles and a face that seemed carved from granite—cold and unyielding. She was known as the most rigorous ethics instructor in all of Aethelgard.

"Magic," Elara’s voice echoed through the silent hall, "is not merely a tool. It is an extension of the soul's will. Many mages fall into darkness not for a lack of power, but for a lack of a moral compass."

She walked past the students' desks, her gaze scouring their faces one by one.

"Today, we shall discuss the Malakor Dilemma," Elara continued. She tapped her wooden staff against the floor, and a magical projection manifested in the center of the room—showing a burning village and a mage standing amidst a sea of corpses.

"This dilemma is simple yet lethal. A mage is surrounded by enemy forces poised to slaughter a village. The only way to save the village is to cast a mass curse that will drain the mage’s life and forever blight the land, making it uninhabitable. Is such an act ethical? Can the sacrifice of a life and the future of the land be justified for the sake of temporary safety?"

A heavy silence descended over the class. Other students looked down, terrified of being called upon. Kael, the Prince of Light, raised his hand with confidence.

"It is unethical, Professor," Kael stated heroically. "A holy mage must never resort to curses, regardless of the reason. Darkness only breeds more darkness. We must find a third way or die with honor in battle."

A few students murmured in agreement. Freya gave a slow nod, though her eyes suggested she was still weighing other possibilities.

Professor Elara gave a cold snort. "Your answer is far too idealistic, Mr. Kael. On a true battlefield, the 'third way' is often nothing more than a dead man's fantasy."

The sharp gaze behind the silver spectacles shifted. She stopped directly in front of Vann’s row. "Mr. Vann. You, who only the day before yesterday shattered an ancient artifact with energy that was... most interesting. What is your opinion?"

The entire class held their breath. Elric stopped breathing entirely. Vann felt his heart beating steadily—a calm possessed only by those who had lived through a thousand wars. He knew this was his chance to show he was no longer a bloodthirsty Demon King, but a wise scholar.

Vann rose slowly. The sound of his chair scraping against the marble floor echoed like the growl of a monster in the silence of the hall. He straightened his back, meeting Professor Elara’s gaze directly.

"The question is fundamentally flawed, Professor," Vann’s voice came out low, deep, and imbued with an absolute, undeniable authority.

Unintentionally, as he began to speak, the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Shadows in the corners of the hall appeared to lengthen, drawn toward Vann by the sheer intensity of his thoughts.

"Ethics is not about the color of the magic used—black, white, or gray," Vann continued. He spoke softly, yet every word felt like a crushing weight upon the shoulders of everyone present. "Ethics is about the final outcome and the responsibility one takes for that sin. If a mage refuses to use a curse to preserve the 'purity' of their soul while a village is slaughtered, then that mage is no hero. They are a selfish coward."

Vann stepped out from his desk, moving with the grace of a sovereign walking among his generals.

"A sin remains a sin. Killing an enemy is a sin; cursing the land is a sin. However, allowing innocent lives to be snuffed out because you fear staining your own hands is the most loathsome sin of all."

Vann glanced toward Freya for a moment, his pitch-black eyes flickering with memories of his former life—memories of how he had to embrace the void to stop gods who sought to erase humanity.

"The mage in that dilemma must cast the curse," Vann’s voice turned bone-chillingly cold, causing several students in the back rows to tremble in fear. "And after he has saved that village, he must accept his execution with equanimity. There is no glory in the darkness; there is only necessity. And anyone who is not prepared to rot in hell for those they love... is unworthy of wielding a staff."

Having finished his piece, Vann offered a flawless bow—a display of high-society etiquette taught only in the most exalted royal circles.

"That is my humble opinion, Professor. I apologize if my words were too bold," Vann said in a tone he believed to be exceptionally polite and gentle.

The reality, however, was far different.

In the eyes of the other students, Vann had just delivered a manifesto on his readiness to slaughter anyone and descend into hell without a hint of regret. A thin but dense shroud of darkness inadvertently seeped from his feet, causing the floor around his desk to quiver. The air in the hall grew so thick it felt as though giant hands were tightening around their throats.

Professor Elara stood frozen. The hand gripping her staff trembled slightly—not out of anger, but because her primal instincts were screaming that the figure before her was no teenager. He was something much older, far more dangerous, and a witness to the end of the world.

"T-thank you, Mr. Vann," Professor Elara's voice cracked for the first time in her thirty-year teaching career. "That was... a truly... radical response."

Vann sat back down, feeling quite pleased with himself. Good job, Vann, he thought. You were polite, you showed respect, and you explained the logic of morality perfectly. Freya must be impressed by your maturity. He offered a small, subtle smile in her direction.

On the other side of the room, Freya van Aethelgard was gripping the edge of her desk so hard the wood began to splinter. Her face was deathly pale. In her eyes, Vann hadn't just answered a question; he had issued a formal declaration of war.

He just admitted it, Freya thought, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He said he was ready to rot in hell. He said he didn't care about the methods as long as the goal was achieved. That is the mindset of a Demon King. He isn't just a threat to the academy... he is a threat to all of humanity.

"You're insane," Elric whispered, burying his face behind his textbook. "You just threatened to send us all to hell in the most polite tone I've ever heard."

Vann's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? I was simply answering the question regarding the ethics of sacrifice."

"Vann, you sounded like the Grim Reaper reading out a formal indictment!" Elric hissed in a panic. "Look around you!"

Vann glanced around the room. The student to his right was stealthily trying to cast a low-level protection charm. The one to his left was weeping silently. And Professor Elara was now frantically packing her books, even though there were still twenty minutes left in the session.

"Class... class is dismissed early today," Professor Elara stammered, not daring to meet Vann's eyes. "Please study the next chapter on your own."

The woman practically bolted out of the lecture hall.

Vann let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Failed again?" he murmured softly.

He stood up and began gathering his books. As he prepared to leave, he noticed Freya was still standing at her desk, waiting for him. Vann's heart skipped a beat. Did she want to discuss ethical theory in more depth? Perhaps she wanted to compliment his insight?

Vann approached Freya, making his footsteps as light as possible. "Lady Freya, was there something you wanted to ask regarding my answer?"

Freya stared at him with an incredibly complex expression—there was fear and hatred, but also a deep, underlying sense of sorrow. She stepped closer, until the tips of her boots touched his.

"I will be watching you, Vann," Freya whispered, her voice trembling but sharp. "Don't think your philosophical speech fooled me. I know exactly what you're hiding behind that mask of politeness. You weren't talking about a wizard in a dilemma, were you? You were talking about yourself."

Vann was stunned. She noticed? She realized I was speaking from my own experience? Does this mean we share a soul connection?

"You're right, Freya," Vann replied earnestly, his voice softening. "I was indeed talking about myself. I just want you to know that whatever I do... it is for you. For your safety."

To Vann, it was the most romantic vow of protection he could offer.

To Freya, it was the most terrifying ultimatum she had ever heard. He wants to destroy the world... for me? Freya recoiled, her hand instinctively reaching for a sword hilt that wasn't there.

"You're a monster," Freya hissed before turning and sprinting out of the Hall of Wisdom, leaving Vann standing alone in a room that had suddenly grown very quiet.

Vann looked down at his own palms. Faint traces of black mist still danced at his fingertips, refusing to fade. He wanted to be a hero; he wanted to be the light. And yet, every "good" word that left his mouth turned to poison the moment it reached others.

"Being a good person is far more difficult than conquering nine kingdoms," Vann muttered hoarsely.

Suddenly, a faint chuckle echoed from the ceiling. Vann looked up sharply, his eyes flashing red for a split second. Perched on a high wooden beam sat a man in a teacher's uniform, though he possessed a deeply unsettling aura.

"A magnificent answer, little King," the man said, clapping slowly. "Only someone who has sat upon a throne of corpses could understand the true weight of a choice."

Vann narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The man dropped down with a grin that seemed to tear his face open from ear to ear. "My name is Mordred, though you might know me better as the man who will help you strip away that human mask."

Vann's fists clenched. Magic Ethics might have ended, but the real trial—the struggle to maintain his sanity against a destiny pulling him back into the dark—had only just begun. Outside, black clouds began to gather over Aethelgard, as if the universe itself were bracing for the return of a dark lord in love.

"I don't need your help," Vann said, his voice cold enough to crack stone. "I'm going to be a model student, even if I have to choke the life out of fate itself."

Mordred burst into a roar of laughter, the sound echoing through the empty hall. "We'll see, Vann. We'll see how long love lasts against the bloodlust singing in your veins."

Vann walked out, leaving the shadows of the Hall of Wisdom behind. In his heart, he began to plot something even more desperate: A Mission to Save a Cat. If ethics failed, perhaps a cliché act of kindness could finally save his reputation in Freya's eyes.

Or at least, that was what he thought before everything spiraled into a disaster once again.