Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 1066 - 252.3 - Why

Chapter 1066: Chapter 252.3 – Why

Irina paused mid-chew, her fork hovering a few inches above her plate.

Her brows pulled together—not in suspicion, but with that quiet tilt of curiosity she always reserved for moments when Astron broke from his usual pattern.

“…What do you mean?” she asked, tone neither alarmed nor dismissive. Just level. “Feel what?”

Astron didn’t answer right away. He stood at the kitchen counter still, the skillet crackling softly behind his words. A flick of his wrist turned the flank slices, letting the mana-infused oils coat the underside. The scent of seared herb and marrow filled the space, grounding the atmosphere in something warm—mundane, even.

But his voice wasn’t casual.

“Yesterday,” he said, without looking up. “When Leonard released his spell.”

A soft hiss from the pan punctuated the silence that followed.

Irina leaned back into the couch, the half-finished bite cooling on her fork. Her gaze narrowed slightly—not confused, but focused.

“I felt pressure,” she said after a moment. “Dense. Refined. Like someone laced a combat ward with class enchantments and stacked it too cleanly. The spell was designed. Not just cast.”

Astron reached for the bowl of diced greens, adding a fresh sprinkle into the pan. The steam shifted again—aromatic and sharp. He didn’t rush the motions. If anything, they steadied.

“And?” he asked.

Irina raised a brow. “And what?”

His eyes flicked toward her then—briefly, from over the edge of the sizzling pan.

“Did you feel anything else?”

She went quiet.

The kitchen filled with the soft rhythm of cooking again—the scraping of metal, the whisper of oil against heat. It filled the space where her answer hadn’t landed yet.

Eventually, she exhaled.

“It was… too quiet,” she said. “Like everything around the spell just stopped. No ripple. No echo. Even the wards didn’t flare in protest. It wasn’t normal.” Her eyes shifted slightly, thoughtful. “It felt filtered.”

Astron nodded once, carefully transferring the flank slices to a fresh plate. His motions didn’t change. But something in his expression—not tense, not slack, just focused—lingered longer than usual.

“And after it passed?” he asked. “Did you feel anything strange?”

Irina frowned faintly. “No tailprint. No mana echo. Like the whole spell… erased itself. Didn’t even leave a footprint. That’s rare.”

Astron reached for the last egg, cracking it one-handed. A practiced motion. The yolk settled without breaking.

“I see,” he said quietly.

He reached for the plating dish now—placing the fresh greens along the edge, a soft glow still rising from the mana threads holding the temperature stable.

“You think something else happened,” Irina said.

Not a question.

A read.

He paused only long enough to turn off the rune-stove, the flame vanishing with a soft click.

Irina picked up her fork again, but didn’t resume eating. Her gaze lingered on Astron as he brought the plated food over and set it neatly in front of her. The subtle heat still rose from the dish, but her attention was already focused elsewhere.

He moved to the other side of the table, took his seat in silence, and adjusted the chair just slightly with a soft scrape. Then, as if it were part of the natural cadence of breath and preparation, he asked without lifting his eyes:

“When we were eating. Earlier. Did you feel anything then?”

Irina blinked once.

“When eating?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean besides Jasmine inhaling her meal like it was her last?”

Astron didn’t smile, but his silence had a specific weight—like he was waiting for her to think further.

Irina’s expression sobered just slightly. “No pressure. No odd bursts. If something passed by, it didn’t touch me.”

She tilted her head now, setting her fork down. “Why?”

He didn’t look up right away. Just sliced into the flank on his plate with slow, mechanical precision. One bite. Clean cut. Movement minimal.

Then finally—

“Didn’t Leonard seem off to you?”

Irina stilled.

“Off?” she repeated. “You mean aside from being a walking vault of polite scout-speak and smiling like he’s got four different reports already written?”

Astron’s eyes lifted to meet hers. Flat. Calm.

But serious.

“Did something happen?” she asked, voice quieter now. “Did you sense something off?”

Astron didn’t answer right away. But his next words came with a deliberate weight.

“Leonard,” he said, “doesn’t feel like a scout.”

Irina leaned forward a little now, all amusement gone.

“He’s strong,” Astron added. “Disciplined. Structured. But not in the way field scouts usually are. His mana use was… refined. Too refined. Precise to the point that even the ambient residue followed intent.”

Irina absorbed that without interrupting. Her arms crossed lightly over her stomach, her brow furrowing.

“And there’s something else,” Astron continued. “Sylvie didn’t know.”

That made her blink.

“She didn’t know he was a scout,” he clarified. “Didn’t know what guild he belonged to. Not until recently.”

Irina’s mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. She considered that.

“And the guild itself?” she asked.

“Solstice Dawn,” Astron said softly. “They’re large. Established. Influential in the western dominions and most outer defensive zones. But for a scout to be attached to them—and stationed in Arcadia—without notice? Without registry circulation to the academy command structure?”

He shook his head once.

“That’s not protocol.”

Irina frowned. “Maybe he’s on special assignment?”

“Maybe,” Astron allowed. “But then why hide it from Sylvie?”

Irina didn’t have an answer for that. Not immediately.

She leaned back slowly, her fork forgotten entirely now.

“…So you’re saying you don’t trust him.”

Astron didn’t speak.

But the silence said enough.

Irina tilted her head to the side, watching him with a sharper, more curious gaze now.

“You’re not usually this direct about people,” she said. “Even the ones you dislike.”

“I don’t dislike him,” Astron replied. “I don’t know him.”

Another pause.

“I just don’t believe in coincidence.”

*****

Irina didn’t touch her food.

Not yet.

She leaned back against the cushioned edge of the sofa bench, her fingers idly tapping against the porcelain rim of her plate as her eyes rested on Astron.

He had returned to eating like nothing had changed—like he hadn’t just peeled back the edge of a curtain she hadn’t realized was there. Calm. Methodical. As if the implications weren’t sharp enough to draw blood.

But that was always how he was, wasn’t it?

Irina’s gaze lingered on him longer than necessary.

She didn’t doubt his words.

That was the problem.

Because even though she hadn’t felt anything—no pressure, no foreign mana, no telltale signs of concealment—something about Leonard had struck her as… too smooth.

She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Scouts were always polished. Some of them oozed professional charm, knew how to move in a room, how to present strength without intimidation. And Leonard had done just that. Polite. Presentable. His mana restrained so tightly it barely left a trace.

But now that Astron had said it—now that he’d framed it in those particular terms—she realized something had itched at her, too.

She just hadn’t recognized it.

“Refined to the point the ambient residue followed intent,” he’d said.

That wasn’t discipline.

That was design.

And Irina knew Astron didn’t throw words like that around unless he meant them.

She looked away, her eyes finding the glow of the half-drawn curtains. The morning light was still soft, but no longer gentle. The angle had shifted. Shadows stretched longer now, pulled across the floor like a quiet warning.

“…So what do you think he’s doing here?” she asked at last.

Astron’s fork paused for half a second. Then resumed. “I don’t know. Yet.”

———-A/N———–

Other Chapter is bugged, will post it soon.