Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 1059 250.4 - Prophecy

She closed her eyes.

And then—channeled.

Not fully. Not casting. But tracing. Matching the impression of Leonard’s aura from earlier. The sharp, precise intent that had twisted space like a thread pulled taut. She rebuilt it as best she could from memory—constructing not the spell itself, but the emotional tone behind it. The pressure. The logic of the will that had been ready to strike.

It took her a few seconds.

And then she felt it.

A tremor.

Not in her hand.

Not in the air.

From him.

Astron’s mana pulsed—not flared, not surged, but responded. In the tiniest possible way. Like a muscle twitching under a blade it had once known.

The tremor faded almost instantly.

It wasn’t even a full second.

Just a pulse—small, contained, but undeniable. Like the slip of a heartbeat in a dead room. But to someone like Eleanor, whose senses had been sharpened by decades of combat, analysis, and high-tier regulation training, it was enough.

More than enough.

Because what she had felt just then, if only for a fraction of a moment, could not be explained away.

The energy that had buckled the edge of her perception earlier that evening…

It came from him.

From Astron.

She opened her eyes slowly.

But when she looked at him again, she saw nothing.

No change in his expression. No tightening of the shoulders. No defensive posture, no flicker of guilt or confusion. He just stood there, composed, calm, as if none of it had happened. As if the mana around him hadn’t shifted just seconds ago. As if the air hadn’t recoiled.

As if he didn’t know.

Or worse.

As if he did know—and had already prepared himself to deny it in every way that mattered.

Eleanor tried again—channeling the same aura pressure, matching the tone, the frequency, the intent—but nothing happened this time.

No pulse. No flicker.

Astron remained completely unresponsive.

The link was gone.

Shut.

Cut.

She held it for a moment longer, her hand still open in the air, then slowly lowered it.

He hadn’t stopped her.

He hadn’t pushed back.

But he hadn’t yielded either.

‘So that’s how it is.’

Even now, when his mana had reacted involuntarily, he offered nothing.

No acknowledgment. No fear. No curiosity.

Just… silence.

Deliberate, measured silence.

And that, more than anything else, told her what she needed to know.

He wasn’t unaware.

He was unyielding.

She could press. She could threaten, corner, apply pressure like a wedge against his stillness—but it wouldn’t work. Not on him. Not on Astron.

He was too trained.

Too calm.

Too good.

The kind of good that couldn’t be faked. The kind that came from years of internal conditioning. Whatever secrets he held, they wouldn’t come out in a confrontation.

Not like this.

Not tonight.

Eleanor took one step back.

Then another.

Her voice was quiet, but clipped.

“You can leave. If you want.”

Astron didn’t speak right away.

Then finally, he gave a small nod. Not respectful. Not cold. Just neutral.

And without another word, he turned and walked.

Eleanor stood still, her coat unmoving in the windless night.

Her hands returned behind her back, her fingers folding together once more.

‘So it really was you.’

The flare that had buckled her perception.

The density that had warped the air.

The weight that had made even someone like Leonard hesitate.

It had come from Astron.

And now that she knew that—

The real questions began.

Eleanor remained in place long after Astron’s silhouette had vanished down the lantern-lit path. The silence returned—but it wasn’t peaceful.

It was too full.

The air still carried that faint, unreadable tension. The residue of a question too large to be answered in a single night.

And now?

Now the real questions began.

She closed her eyes.

Let the silence settle over her shoulders like a weight she knew too well.

‘He’s hiding his strength. That much was always clear.’

Astron had never flared. Never shown more than what was required. He fought with precision, not flourish. Measured restraint. Tactical application. As if every motion had been pre-calculated for exactly the amount of force needed—and never a drop more.

But this…

‘That wasn’t restraint. That was containment.’

She exhaled slowly.

The energy she’d felt from him—no, the energy that had reacted to her—was not cadet-level. It wasn’t even academy-level.

It was Stage-10.

At least.

And not just by volume.

By quality.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t refined. It was dense. Chaotic. Layered with currents that pushed and pulled like opposing tides crashing in a singular direction. It wasn’t built to be cast—it was built to overwhelm. Like the precursor of something ancient. Something violent. Something absolute.

‘Not even Hunters reach that stage easily,’ she thought. ‘And those who do, don’t look like him.’

Astron Natusalune was composed. Quiet. Hidden. The kind of quiet that wasn’t just personality—it was survival.

And that’s what chilled her now.

Because that wasn’t the mana of someone trying to climb.

That was the mana of someone who had already been there.

Already seen it.

And had buried it.

Deliberately.

‘No first-year cadet should have that kind of energy in them. No second-year either. Not unless…’

Her eyes narrowed.

Not unless they weren’t really cadets.

Not unless they were something else entirely.

‘Is it really him?’

The question pulsed through her, not with fear—but with that terrifying flicker of hope.

Because she’d been watching.

Waiting.

Looking.

Not just for talent. Not just for power. For alignment.

And until now, she’d thought it might be Ethan.

He had the affinity. The speed. The natural rhythm of a prodigy. His growth curve was terrifying in its acceleration. Every time she tested him, he met her standards—and broke through them.

But…

‘Ethan doesn’t carry that weight.’

She had felt it. Compared it. Ethan was pure. Focused. His internalization was like lightning—fast, sharp, reactive. He responded to training like a gifted warrior.

But not like a vessel.

Not like someone built to hold something.

Astron, on the other hand…

That tremor. That flare. That moment.

She had felt drawn to it.

Not like a teacher.

Not like a soldier.

But like a witness.

‘It’s as if…’

Her breath caught.

‘It’s as if he’s the one I’ve been searching for.’

Not because of what he said. Not because of his performance in classes or exams or training sessions.

But because, for the briefest moment, when she echoed Leonard’s pressure—

Astron’s mana had answered.

As if it recognized her.

And worse…

As if she recognized him.

A weight pressed against her chest—not from fear. From realization.

She had been split between them for months. Ethan—the prodigy with lightning in his blood. Astron—the anomaly with no documented affinity, no consistent flare, no past worth noting.

But this?

This changed everything.

She opened her eyes again.

And the night suddenly felt much colder.

If Astron really was what she now feared—

….

“Sigh…”