Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 52: S-Class (2)

Ho-cheol held out the unlocked watch to the team leader.

The team leader stared at the removed watch with a complicated expression.

The consequences of this action wouldn’t end with mere demotion or a pay cut.

It could go beyond losing his job—possibly even landing him in prison.

By allowing Jeong Ho-cheol’s restraints to be lifted, the Hero Association had effectively relinquished control over him, all because an S-Class villain was attacking the academy.

Even such an unprecedented event was diminished by the word “merely” in the Association’s eyes, so wary were they of Ho-cheol’s power and ideology.

Seeing this, Ho-cheol shook his head.

He no longer felt like criticizing the team leader’s selfish thoughts or attitude.

Once the societal mask of being part of the Hero Association’s headquarters was stripped away, what remained was just a bureaucrat.

Someone who pretended to uphold pride or principles but, in the end, valued their own life above all—a typical civilian.

What could he expect from a mere bureaucrat?

If anything, it was Han So-hee, a bureaucrat with a hero’s qualities, who was the anomaly.

His expectations had been raised unnecessarily.

Having shed some of his emotions, Ho-cheol returned to his usual tone.

“You made the right call. You’ll catch some flak, sure, but what’s worse than dying? If things get really bad, this might even be the best move.”

“…Yeah. Better than dying.”

The team leader nodded in agreement and reached for the watch.

But Ho-cheol pulled it back.

Facing the team leader’s puzzled expression, he said.

“Being dedicated to your job, looking down on me, holding onto your pride—none of that matters to me.”

He extended the watch again, adding.

“But don’t forget that none of it is worth more than someone else’s life. If you forget that, you’re no different from a villain.”

The team leader merely nodded silently.

Taking the watch, he turned and gestured lightly.

In truth, he wasn’t the only one whose life hung in the balance in this situation.

Several agents from the same department, monitoring Ho-cheol from a distance, were also holding their breath, watching the scene unfold.

Like the team leader, they were bound by the contract to stay near Ho-cheol if he didn’t evacuate.

Their combat abilities weren’t particularly impressive, so their lives practically depended on the team leader’s decision.

Thanks to his choice, they could breathe a sigh of relief and evacuate.

And so, the team leader and the monitoring agents all withdrew.

Soon, Ho-cheol was left alone in the quiet street.

He slowly began walking toward the north gate.

A cool breeze blew through.

The word “freedom” didn’t quite capture it.

It was as if he’d been submerged in the deep sea and had finally surfaced.

The freedom he felt, now completely unrestrained, was something others could never understand.

He took a deep breath in, then exhaled.

That alone sent a clear wave of power rippling outward from him.

“Man.”

Ho-cheol ran a hand through his hair, cracking his neck side to side.

“This feels good.”

He’d removed the watch before, but only to evade tracking, not to use his power.

Back then, he’d suppressed his strength to avoid drawing attention.

But now it is different.

There was no reason to hide.

In fact, he deliberately projected his presence more strongly, more broadly.

Indeed, after he removed the watch, the S-Class villain approaching the academy noticeably slowed.

Unlike the dean, Ho-cheol was an unpredictable variable, so the villain had to be cautious.

Before long, Ho-cheol reached the academy’s north gate.

Amid the rubble of a collapsed defense tower, a figure approached slowly.

The defense tower, capable of reducing even a mid-tier A-Class villain to dust, couldn’t even buy time against this intruder.

Clad in a deeply hooded cloak that reached their ankles, their age, gender—everything—was indiscernible.

The villain stepped onto the debris of a building and stopped. Ho-cheol, feeling their gaze from beneath the hood, stopped as well.

“Hm.”

Ho-cheol spoke first.

He rubbed his chin, pondering.

“As expected, I don’t know who you are. No sense of familiarity either.”

A villain this strong would’ve stuck in his memory even after ten years.

This meant they were someone who’d emerged in the last decade.

More than that, no one he knew had a taste for such tattered clothing.

Time really has passed, huh.

Reflecting on the changing times, he lightly stretched his body.

“Shall we exchange names?”

No response came.

“Pretty shy, huh.”

He’d hoped a talkative villain might let some information slip.

Of course, a normal villain wouldn’t talk.

The modern villains who rambled at every opportunity were the odd ones.

Ho-cheol lightly tapped the ground with his toes.

“It’s been a while since I’ve used my full strength, so I’d love to take my time, but the situation’s a bit urgent.”

If this were just about dealing with this one spot, it’d be fine.

But he needed to wrap this up quickly and check on the main gate.

If the dean won easily, great. But considering the worst-case scenario, there was no reason to drag this out.

“A few solid hits, and we’re done.”

Before he finished speaking, the villain lunged.

An outstretched arm reached for Ho-cheol’s face.

The speed was so great that most heroes wouldn’t even register it, let alone react.

But Ho-cheol easily tilted his head to dodge.

At the same time, he drove a fist into the villain’s solar plexus.

Pow—!

The villain was pushed back, but that was it.

Ho-cheol narrowed his eyes, twisting his wrist.

“Tough bastard.”

Unlike the last villain, who used a defensive trait, this one withstood the blow with pure physical durability.

Their physical prowess was undeniably S-Class.

The villain charged at Ho-cheol again, wordlessly.

Boom—! Boom—! Crash—!

Relentless, reckless attacks that ignored defense.

But they were undeniably effective.

Ho-cheol focused on dodging and blocking, studying the attack patterns.

For someone with such power, the attacks were surprisingly simplistic.

And he found an opening.

He deflected the villain’s incoming fist upward and simultaneously kicked their chest.

Crash—!

The villain was sent flying, their cloak tearing to reveal their body.

Ho-cheol’s eyes widened in shock.

The villain’s body was far from normal.

Swollen and distorted in places, it was grotesque, more akin to a failed attempt at mimicking a beast than a human.

But that wasn’t why Ho-cheol was shocked.

“You… don’t tell me.”

Staring at the villain, Ho-cheol was so stunned he stammered.

“Vulture?”

Though the face was barely recognizable, the tattoo stretching from one arm to the shoulder was still vivid in Ho-cheol’s memory, even after ten years.

No response came.

The villain wasn’t in a state to respond.

Vulture’s face was contorted, his eyes unfocused.

A strange metallic sound escaped his parted lips.

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue.

“I’ve got a lot of questions.”

For one, Vulture was never this strong.

Vulture’s eyes spun like a chameleon’s, then locked onto Ho-cheol again.

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue once more.

Regardless of how Vulture ended up like this, his attitude rubbed Ho-cheol the wrong way.

“Who told you to glare like that?”

Back then, Vulture couldn’t even meet his eyes, and now he had the audacity to act so bold.

Time to teach him a lesson.

Vulture crouched, pressing both hands to the ground.

The earth around his hands turned purple.

Hiss—

The liquid pooling on the ground melted it with an unpleasant smell.

Sending the security team away was the right call.

Their protective gear wouldn’t withstand this poison.

For an ordinary human, even a whiff of this gas could be deadly.

Ho-cheol frowned, pointing at the pooling venom.

“What, you got incontinence after ten years? Why’re you leaking like that?”

Vulture’s thighs swelled, and he launched himself with explosive force.

His movements were beastly, completely unlike the fighting style Ho-cheol remembered.

Ho-cheol dodged and reached for Vulture’s neck.

But—

Flash—!

A blinding light flared, and a bolt of lightning struck Ho-cheol from above.

Stunned by the impact, he was momentarily vulnerable, and Vulture swung a fist.

Boom—!

Ho-cheol was sent flying over ten meters, crashing into building debris.

He irritably brushed off the rubble and stood.

Wiping blood from his mouth, he muttered.

“What the hell was that?”

A bolt from a clear sky.

Ho-cheol quickly scanned the area but found no other villains.

The lightning was Vulture’s trait.

Did he awaken a new trait?

He immediately shook his head.

Multiple traits were a matter entirely separate from effort or will.

If Vulture had even the slightest potential for multiple traits, he would’ve awakened them over a decade ago.

That meant an external factor was likely responsible.

Ho-cheol studied Vulture’s grotesque form.

The monstrous appearance and the power far surpassing what he had ten years ago could be explained as side effects of acquiring multiple traits.

“Alright. More to ask about.”

Ho-cheol closed the distance.

His fist slammed into Vulture’s jaw, followed by an elbow strike to the same spot.

The impact felt like two blows landing simultaneously.

Vulture’s body swayed heavily.

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue.

That attack would’ve knocked out most S-Class villains, but Vulture’s durability was beyond S-Class.

Vulture swung back at Ho-cheol.

A fierce exchange of blows ensued, and surprisingly, it was Ho-cheol who showed a critical opening.

Spotting it, Vulture reached out, his claws digging into Ho-cheol’s sides.

Even a body impervious to guns or missiles was easily pierced by Vulture’s claws.

As venom seeped through the wounds, Ho-cheol remained calm.

In fact, he was smiling.

“Yeah, when I leave an opening that obvious, how could you resist?”

But the smile quickly faded.

He looked at Vulture with something akin to pity.

“If you were still yourself, you wouldn’t have fallen for such an obvious trap.”

The opening was intentional, and Vulture had taken the bait.

Ho-cheol sighed repeatedly, genuinely regretful.

“You’re stronger now than you were ten years ago, but back then, you were far superior.”

In terms of raw power and physicality, Vulture was over 30% stronger than a decade ago, jumping from top-tier A-Class to average S-Class—an absurd leap.

But the combat understanding, conceptual mastery, and adaptability Vulture once had were reduced to animalistic levels.

Vulture’s ability to serve as a top executive in their organization, despite not being S-Class, stemmed from his exceptional trait application and combat sense, which more than compensated for his lack of raw power.

To sacrifice those strengths for mere power and a trivial trait wasn’t evolution or progress in Ho-cheol’s eyes—it was regression.

Ho-cheol slowly raised his fist.

“I can’t promise you’ll return to normal, but…”

For the first time in ten years, he unleashed his full power.

“If you do, I’ll at least visit you in the hospital. So…”

He clenched his fist.

It was a simple motion, but its impact was anything but.

Crackle—

A haze-like distortion shimmered around his fist.

Even Vulture, reduced to beastly instincts, sensed the danger of that fist.

But his claws, lodged in Ho-cheol’s sides, were stuck fast, unable to pull free.

Vulture thought he’d trapped Ho-cheol, but in reality, he was the one caught.

By the time he realized it, it was too late.

Sensing danger, Vulture summoned lightning repeatedly, but Ho-cheol didn’t flinch.

The lightning only briefly stunned him, ineffective when he was standing still.

“Just stay down.”

With those words, Ho-cheol brought his fist down.

The movement was slow, almost leisurely, but the space around it warped and tore.

Crunch—!

A grating sound, like tearing metal, accompanied the strike as it connected with Vulture.

Boom—!

A massive crater formed around them, the strike so clean it didn’t even kick up dust.

Like a meteor impact, the crater’s center held Vulture’s body, twitching intermittently—the only sign he was still alive.

Ho-cheol hadn’t traded dozens of blows for nothing.

He’d perfectly gauged Vulture’s endurance and limits, bringing him to the brink of death without crossing it.

He clicked his tongue at the stinging pain in his sides.

His purple-tinted skin was slowly returning to normal, but the process was quite painful.

Though he was nearly immune to most poisons, that didn’t mean it was painless.

He nudged the unconscious Vulture with his foot.

Lucky for him he was out of his mind—otherwise, Ho-cheol wouldn’t have taken him down so easily.

I wonder how things are at the main gate.

If the dean lost, Ho-cheol would have to handle it too.

Fighting S-Class villains back-to-back?

Even in his prime, he hadn’t done something that crazy.

As he turned toward the main gate, the world turned white.

A mushroom-shaped cloud soared into the sky.

“Did that old man lose his mind?”

To use that right in front of the academy.

Then again, it meant the situation was dire enough to require it.

Ho-cheol had won easily thanks to his informational advantage and favorable matchup, but if the dean was facing someone like Vulture, it’d be a close call.

“No choice, then.”

Grumbling, he started walking toward the main gate.