I Killed The Main Characters-Chapter 209 Instructor Noah Ashbourne [1]

Noah Ashbourne stood outside the door to Class 1A.

His gloved hand resting lightly on the doorknob.

His expression was neutral, but the weight of his thoughts bore heavily on his mind.

"Of all the first-year classes... why this one?"

He muttered under his breath, casting a glance at the nameplate on the door.

Class 1A wasn't just any class.

It was where the academy's most exceptional—and troublesome—students resided.

This was the class of key figures in the academy's story.

The ones who would shape its future in ways both grand and catastrophic.

The Princess of empire, Elara, sat here—

The enigmatic prodigy whose very presence could turn the tide of any conflict.

Then there was Iris Star, known for her unparalleled talent in elemental magic.

And those two weren't even the full roster of the walking headaches he'd now have to manage.

He adjusted his clothing with a sigh.

His fingers brushing down the length of his black blazer.

Gone were the days of his school uniform.

As an acting instructor, he now donned a more formal ensemble.

A black shirt tucked into tailored black pants, a long black blazer that swept behind him, a pristine white tie knotted at his throat, and immaculate white gloves to match.

His polished boots clicked faintly on the marble floor as he shifted his weight.

Noah glanced at his reflection in the glass of the nearby window and pushed back his hair with a hand, ensuring he looked composed.

Breathing deeply, he exhaled and muttered to himself.

"Alright. Let's get this over with."

When Noah opened the door, the room was filled with the typical chaos of first-year students.

Some were chatting animatedly, others bickering, and a few were scribbling notes on scraps of paper.

The moment he stepped inside, however, the noise didn't cease.

Noah closed the door with a loud thud and stood at the front of the room, his arms crossed over his chest.

Slowly, he surveyed the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students.

"Silence."

He said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that immediately demanded attention.

The room quieted, the chatter dying out as the students turned their attention to him.

Noah took a step forward.

His boots clicking on the tiled floor, and let the weight of his presence settle over the room.

"Most of you know me as a second-year senior.

But for the foreseeable future, I will also be your acting instructor for Class 1A until the academy finds a suitable replacement.

Any questions?"

The silence was interrupted by a low murmur among the students.

"Isn't he the one who got cursed by one of the Sins?"

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A voice whispered from the back.

"He has a temper. We're screwed..."

Another said.

"I heard he snaps over the smallest things," someone else chimed in.

Noah's lips twitched into a faint smirk, but he didn't address the comments.

He allowed them to talk for a moment longer before clearing his throat loudly.

"I see the rumors about me are alive and well."

He said dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"Good. Now, if you're done speculating, let's move on to what actually matters...

...your upcoming joint mid-term exams."

Noah picked up a marker and turned to the board.

With quick, precise movements, he began sketching out a series of diagrams.

A campsite layout, a basic attack formation, and symbols representing various types of mabeasts.

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"This year's mid-terms will involve a survival scenario..."

Noah began, his voice steady and firm.

"You'll be sent into the wild, where you'll have to work as a team to complete various objectives.

Let me be blunt.

The wild is unforgiving, and if you approach it with the same lack of focus you're displaying now, you won't last a day."

He pointed to the first diagram, a rough sketch of a campsite surrounded by trees.

"Rule number one: your campsite.

The layout of your camp can mean the difference between a good night's rest and waking up with a mabeast gnawing on your leg.

Always set your camp in a defensible position—preferably against a natural barrier like a cliff or dense vegetation.

Keep the fire pit at the center and your tents arranged in a semicircle around it.

This ensures that if something—or someone—attacks, you can form a defensive line quickly."

Noah turned to face the students, his sharp gaze locking onto a few who weren't taking notes.

"Are you writing this down?

Or do you think you'll just wing it when a Razorbeak decides to raid your supplies?"

The sound of hurried scribbling filled the room.

"Good."

He said, turning back to the board and drawing another diagram.

"Now, let's talk about mabeasts.

They're attracted to food, movement, and magic.

This means that your campfire, your rations, and your very presence are all beacons to them.

To keep them away, you need deterrents.

Scatter crushed Aetherberries around your camp—mabeasts hate the smell.

Set up noise traps in a perimeter around your site.

A simple string with bells or stones will alert you to anything approaching."

Noah's tone grew more intense as he continued.

"And if you're attacked, don't panic.

Panic gets you killed.

Form a line, shield the weaker members, and focus your firepower on the most dangerous target.

Use the terrain to your advantage.

If there's a slope, make them come to you.

If there's water, force them into it. Most mabeasts can't swim."

As he spoke, Noah's mind flickered to his past life, where he'd learned these lessons the hard way.

In the military, survival wasn't just a test—it was a way of life.

His tone carried the weight of experience, though he masked it under the guise of arrogance.

"You think this is overkill?

Noah asked, turning back to the class.

"Think again

I've seen people die because they didn't know how to set a proper camp.

I've seen teams fall apart because they didn't know how to work together.

And I've seen what happens when mabeasts are underestimated.

Trust me, it's not pretty."

Moving to the next diagram, Noah tapped the chalk against a series of stick figures arranged in a wedge formation.

"Attack formations.

I'm not expecting all of you to be warriors, but if you're going to survive, you need to know how to fight as a unit.

The wedge formation is the simplest and most effective for beginners.

The strongest member takes the point, with the others fanning out behind them.

This allows you to focus your attacks while protecting your flanks."

He drew another formation, this time a circle.

"If you're surrounded, form a defensive circle.

Shields on the outside, ranged attackers and mages in the center.

This minimizes your vulnerabilities and gives you a fighting chance."

Noah's gaze swept over the class, landing briefly on Iris Star, who was watching him with an infuriatingly amused smile, her hands resting on her cheeks.

He cursed under his breath, quickly shifting his focus back to the board.

After nearly an hour of lecturing, Noah set the marker down and turned to face the class.

"Everything I've told you today will be tested during the mid-terms.

Ignore it at your own peril.

Survival isn't about being the strongest or the smartest—it's about preparation and adaptability.

The wild doesn't care who you are or where you come from. It's kill or be killed."

The room was silent as his words sank in.

Noah crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "Any questions?"

The students exchanged nervous glances, but no one spoke up.

***

The room was small yet immaculate.

Its elegance hinting at the meticulous nature of its owner.

Soft light filtered through sheer curtains, casting a golden hue over the polished oak furniture and the array of neatly arranged trinkets that adorned the shelves.

The scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from a vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill.

At the center of the room sat a woman with an air of quiet authority.

Her long black hair cascaded down her back.

The strands shimmering like obsidian under the soft light.

Her striking yellow eyes seemed to glow, a sharp contrast to the delicate porcelain teacup resting on the small round table before her.

The open envelope lay beside the cup, its contents now in her hands.

She scanned the document with a calm intensity.

Her expression unreadable but for a faint curve at the corner of her lips.

After a moment, she set the paper down carefully, as though it carried the weight of significance.

Picking up the teacup, she brought it to her lips and took a measured sip.

Her voice, smooth and laced with intrigue, broke the silence.

"…So he's not dead as they claimed..."

She set the cup back on its saucer with a soft clink.

Her gaze shifting to the window where the setting sun painted the horizon in shades of amber and crimson.

"How wonderful..."

"This is truly wonderful..."

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