Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 1043 247.1 - Brother

The monsters advanced with brutal clarity.

Ten of them, each distinct yet perfectly synchronized—like instruments in a war-born symphony. Shields locked, flankers rotating, ranged elements releasing blasts in calculated intervals. They didn’t rush. They pressed forward with the calm certainty of predators that had done this before.

And for a moment, even Team Fourteen felt it.

The weight of precision.

Jasmine’s blade clashed against a pincer’s arm—CLANG!—but the moment she parried, a second one slid in from her right with impossible timing. Layla intercepted with her shield—THOOM!—but took the full brunt, skidding two meters to the side.

“I can’t keep pace with all of them!” she snapped.

Irina launched a fireblast—FWOOOSH!—but it was absorbed by the monster’s shielding stance, the elemental core buried beneath layers of enchanted armor.

Sylvie’s enhancements spun like clockwork, but she was hitting limits.

Too many mana types in motion. Too much chaos.

The field was collapsing around them.

Then—

“Rotate clockwise. Hard break—Jasmine, dip through Sector 3. Layla, angle your guard to force overlap at Platform B. Irina, time a burst—one second after Layla’s parry.”

Astron’s voice—measured, low, decisive.

They moved.

Layla dropped her stance just slightly—enough for the leftmost monster’s strike to overextend. Jasmine slipped behind it through a rotating bridge sector and slashed its exposed flank—KRSSCH!—driving the monster into the second’s path.

Their bodies collided mid-movement, just as Irina released a flame-burst between them.

BOOM!

The two monsters staggered back—no longer aligned.

Astron’s arrow fired not at the monsters—but into a mana vent on the platform beneath them.

THWIP—CHAKK!

The arrow’s impact triggered a rupture of compressed mana—a terrain burst that disrupted the enemy formation, forcing the ranged elements to scatter backward.

“Two front-liners separated,” Astron called. “Push the right side. Sylvie, time your glyph—target their knees. Lower joints aren’t shielded.”

“On it.” Sylvie’s hands moved in a blur. A golden Trip Bind fired out—ZING!—wrapping the legs of the flanking monster. Irina’s next flame came low, racing across the floor like a dragon’s breath—engulfing its now-vulnerable stance.

The beast howled—its armor glowing red—cracking.

Astron moved between platforms now, eyes flicking in constant calculation.

“Platform shift in three seconds. Jasmine, let the enemy follow you across the gap—delay your dash. Sylvie, prep a gravity pulse.”

They did.

Jasmine retreated across the gap—one monster in pursuit.

At the edge of the platform’s arc, just before it began rotating away—Sylvie released the gravity pulse.

WHUMMM!

The chasing monster slammed down into the edge with too much force—stumbling just as the platform disconnected.

It fell.

“Four left,” Astron said.

Layla blocked another hammer strike, breathing hard, her aura flickering. “How are you seeing this—?”

“I’m not seeing monsters,” Astron murmured, notching another arrow. “I’m seeing lines. Momentum. Intent. Openings.”

The arrow flew—this time tagged with a small, green sigil.

THWIP!—PSSHH!

The arrow didn’t hit a monster. It struck a cracked pillar.

The magic ignited—collapsing the terrain on top of the ranged caster-type in the backline. It screeched, pinned beneath the rubble.

“Now!” Astron called. “Everyone forward! Reset their tempo. Don’t chase—curve them toward each other.”

And they did.

The four remaining monsters, forced to shift and re-adapt, began to mirror their own movements—colliding into each other as their internal formation broke.

Layla slammed one into another with a rotating shield bash.

Irina’s fire coiled around a blind spot—igniting one’s exposed back as it turned to guard its ally.

Sylvie marked a collapsing segment of the floor—and Astron’s arrow struck it dead-on.

CRACK—KRRRRCH!

Another fell.

Jasmine twisted mid-air, her blade whistling—driving it into the skull of the last shield-type as it raised its arm to protect its ally instead of itself.

Silence.

Heavy breathing.

The final monster twitched—half-crawling—

BOOM.

Irina’s palm landed on its back.

A flame sparked once.

Then it didn’t move again.

******

They stood there, surrounded by ruins and scorched marks and broken stone.

Ten organized monsters.

And five exhausted—but unbroken—hunters.

Astron exhaled, lowering his bow, finally.

“That,” he said, as the dungeon began to pulse and fade, “was the real exam.”

Jasmine looked at him, sweat pouring down her brow. “You scare me sometimes.”

He didn’t respond.

But Irina, from behind, smirked faintly.

“Don’t worry,” she muttered. “That’s how you know it’s working.”

As the last embers cooled and the glow of the collapsing dungeon began to fade, Team Fourteen stood amidst the wreckage, the pulse of mana dissipating from the fractured ground around them.

Breathing hard, armor scorched, mana reserves low—but standing.

Jasmine dropped onto a chunk of fallen stone, tossing her head back and letting out a long, relieved breath. “Gods,” she muttered. “Please tell me that was enough to boost our rankings.”

Layla chuckled weakly, leaning her weight on her shield like a walking stick. “If that wasn’t enough, I’m suing the evaluation board.”

Irina stood tall, brushing dust off her tattered cloak. “For you guys?” she said, voice light with lingering adrenaline. “Definitely.”

“And you?” Jasmine asked, arching a brow.

Irina’s smirk curved slightly. “Ranked two already. There’s not much further to go.”

Layla squinted at her. “Right. Victor’s still number one, isn’t he?”

Irina’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in irritation—but in recognition. “For now.”

Astron said nothing. But his eyes flicked toward her—sharp and brief. That name carried weight, and they all knew it.

Sylvie, meanwhile, was sitting on the edge of a broken column, hands folded neatly in her lap, gloves still faintly pulsing with residual mana. Her eyes weren’t on the field, or the team—they were distant. Processing. Remembering every spell, every pulse, every moment she had acted, not hesitated.

She looked up when Jasmine nudged her with a boot.

“You,” Jasmine said, grinning. “You’re the one whose rank’s gonna spike the hardest.”

Sylvie blinked. “You think?”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Think? After yesterday and today? Yeah. You’re not just on the radar anymore. You’re in the report summaries.”

Irina added, “And not just for healing. Combat support. Coordination. Precision. No one puts that together unless they’ve trained under four departments at once.”

Sylvie flushed slightly, but didn’t look away. “Does that mean…?”

“It means,” Astron spoke finally, “you’ll be reassigned.”

She blinked. “Reassigned?”

Astron didn’t look at Sylvie directly, but his voice remained steady, clear in the still air of the fading dungeon.

“You’re classified as a healer,” he said. “That means you’re exempt from most combat-based curriculum and excluded from the standard cadet ranking lists.”

Sylvie blinked. Then nodded slowly. “That’s… right.”

Her mind turned quickly now—connecting what she hadn’t fully realized earlier. The reason she wasn’t evaluated alongside Irina, or Jasmine. Why her position in the rankings was always buried beneath subcategories. Why most of her feedback came from support instructors, not combat specialists.

She hadn’t just been underestimated.

She’d been filed away.

Into the quiet, safe section.

But not anymore.

Astron continued, tone even. “What you did these past two days reclassifies you. You revealed capability outside your assigned role. That changes how they see you. How they’ll rank you. How they’ll train you.”

Sylvie exhaled softly, the weight of understanding settling over her like a warm pressure.

“I see,” she murmured. “So that’s what you meant by reassignment.”

Irina tilted her head, lips curling faintly. “Don’t look so startled. They’ll still let you heal people. You’ll just have to do it while dodging blades now.”

Layla gave a low laugh. “Honestly, welcome to the deep end. We’ve been waiting.”

Jasmine smirked. “You’ll be fine. You already fight better than half the combat cadets I know.”

Sylvie looked at them all—faces streaked with sweat, blood, and soot, but standing tall, still ready to keep going—and gave a small, resigned smile.

“Well,” she said, voice soft but clear. “I guess I’ll just have to brace for it.”

Astron nodded once—satisfied.

The dungeon’s mana field shimmered one last time behind them, signaling the full system closure. A new message pinged across their visors.

[Extraction Point Stabilized – Exit Enabled]

Irina turned first, her cloak still trailing cinders as she walked.