Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 951 - 219.1 - Show
The rest of the dungeon fell in sequence—clean, sharp, and precise.
The split-wave pattern tried to throw them off: packs of leech-hounds and blade-backed beasts rushing from two fronts, some even climbing walls to approach from above. But the formation absorbed everything. No cracks. No hesitation.
Sylvie’s support spells wove through the group like threads of gold, her enchantments tightening armor responses and weaving shield layers with perfect timing. Her combat spells—limited, but precise—picked off weakened enemies without disrupting her rhythm.
Layla didn’t buckle once. Her stance had changed since earlier simulations—less reactive, more assertive. When she blocked, she countered. When she was hit, she recovered instantly. Her breathing stayed even, even as the last brute slammed into her shield before collapsing.
Jasmine, too, had grown sharper. Her movements were cleaner, her aggression more calculated. She stayed in zone, managing her range without drifting too deep. Her strikes didn’t just hit—they created space. A rhythm that let Irina breathe fire.
And Irina… was Irina.
No matter how seamless the others became, she remained the storm in the middle. Her flames surged and receded in elegant waves, demolishing every group that dared press forward. She didn’t dominate the space selfishly—she orchestrated it, knowing when to overwhelm and when to hold back. Every flame had purpose. Every burst carved a path.
Astron?
He drifted along the edge of the formation, a quiet shadow between layers.
There wasn’t much for him to do—not because he wasn’t needed, but because the others had finally stopped relying on his constant correction. He patched gaps, yes. A well-placed throw here, a perfect counter-blade there. But the pressure on him had lightened.
And that was fine.
Because the point wasn’t to shine—it was to win as a unit.
When the final boss—a plated chimera wrapped in mana chains—fell with a crashing thud, the room went still. Sylvie’s last glyph slowly faded. Irina exhaled a short breath. Layla lowered her shield with a small gasp. Jasmine grinned and wiped sweat from her brow.
Astron just straightened and flicked blood off his blade.
“Clear,” he said simply.
The dungeon responded instantly—runes dimming, mana density stabilizing, the exit archway pulsing open with a soft, steady hum. The simulation had ended.
And as they stepped through the light one by one, the rush of chilled air from the corridor hit them like a breath of reality.
Outside, the plaza was quiet.
Still.
Cadets stood near the roster boards, murmuring softly, adjusting armor, taking slow gulps of water as they waited for their turn.
The instructors hadn’t called the next team yet.
Sylvie blinked first, glancing around. “…Wait. Are we the first?”
Irina stepped out behind her, eyes scanning the square. “Huh. Looks like it.”
Jasmine’s grin widened as she stretched her arms overhead. “Damn. That did feel like a breeze.”
Layla leaned on her shield with a tired but proud smile. “It wasn’t easy, but… it never felt like we were about to break.”
“No, it didn’t,” Irina said, glancing sidelong at Sylvie, her voice casual but threaded with acknowledgment. “Everyone kept it together.”
Astron came through last, his posture as composed as always, but his eyes lingered on each teammate as they stood in the quiet outside.
A sudden hush fell over the plaza.
The murmuring cadets nearest to the roster board turned first—then others followed, glancing up from their cooldown stretches and idle chatter as Team Fourteen emerged fully from the glowing gate.
A few students stiffened. Others blinked, as if unsure they were seeing correctly.
They weren’t battered. They weren’t limping. They didn’t look like they’d just walked out of a dungeon that had already claimed two teams this morning.
Irina gave them all a once-over and smirked to herself. Let them look.
Sylvie instinctively shrank back half a step from the attention, but Irina’s casual presence at her side anchored her.
“Team Fourteen,” came a crisp voice from the right.
An instructor approached, tablet in hand, dressed in the dark, insignia-lined uniform of the academy’s Combat Evaluation division. His eyes flicked across the five of them, scanning for signs of stress, injury—anything out of order.
He found none.
“Simulation record confirms full dungeon clear,” he announced, tapping once. “No penalties. No formation breaks. Completion time: eleven minutes, forty-two seconds.”
Layla blinked. “That’s… fast, right?”
“That’s the fastest,” the instructor replied without missing a beat. “By a wide margin.”
There was a brief silence, then Jasmine gave a low whistle. “Alright, alright.”
“Not bad,” Irina muttered, though her grin said very good.
The instructor stepped aside, allowing them to move freely as the next team’s name lit up on the display board behind him. A group of nervous-looking cadets began shuffling toward the gate.
Irina rolled her shoulders with a sigh. “Okay. That’s done.”
“But the report isn’t,” Astron said calmly, arms folded behind his back.
Jasmine groaned. “You had to remind me.”
“I was being helpful.”
“You’re being you.”
Layla chuckled under her breath. “Still, we should plan. It’s not just this report—we’ve got the mana synchronization paper due tomorrow, artifact calibration results by next week, and the big Theory Midterm is coming up…”
“Too many things,” Sylvie murmured, adjusting the strap on her bag.
Irina was already pulling up her holo-schedule with a swipe of her hand. “Then we optimize. When’s everyone free?”
“Tonight’s bad for me,” Layla said. “I’ve got training with my mentor. He’s making me review footwork drills again.”
“Tomorrow evening?” Jasmine offered. “That way we can write the report together after classes.”
“I can do that,” Sylvie said softly.
“Same,” Irina nodded.
Astron gave a single nod. “Then I’ll reserve one of the side conference rooms in the East Wing. Quiet. And no foot traffic.”
Jasmine gave him a thumbs-up. “See? That’s the kind of helpful I like.”
“You like all kinds of help,” Astron replied dryly.
Irina tucked her tablet away, then tilted her head toward the academy building. “Alright, then it’s set. We meet tomorrow, East Wing, after the last lecture block.”
As they began walking toward the shaded paths that led back to the dormitory towers, the glowing arch of the dungeon gate slowly faded behind them—replaced by the hum of another team’s beginning.
As the team drifted into casual conversation and the afterglow of their successful run, the weight of the dungeon left behind like sweat on skin, the group naturally began to split apart—each cadet easing into their own rhythm.
Layla moved first, waving a quick goodbye as she made for the upper gardens, where her mentor waited with a scowl and footwork drills. Jasmine slung her bag over her shoulder and stretched again, her voice already chiming with plans for a snack raid. Sylvie lingered at Irina’s side, her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her sleeve.
Irina was about to nudge her—playfully, of course—when she noticed the direction of Sylvie’s gaze.
It wasn’t toward the gardens.
Or the dorms.
It was fixed, quietly, on Astron.
He had already begun walking away, his steps unhurried, measured—but with purpose. Not wandering. Not meandering. Moving with intent.
Sylvie’s gaze stayed on him, subtle but steady.
Irina raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “If you want to speak to him, then don’t hold it in.”
Sylvie blinked and turned slightly. “Huh?”
Irina didn’t press further. She just looked toward Astron’s retreating form—and then raised her voice enough for it to carry.
“Where are you going?”
Astron didn’t break stride. “I’m going to train.”
Irina quickened her pace to fall in step beside him. “Where?”
“In my mentor’s building.”
Irina blinked. “Eleanor’s building? She has a building?”
Astron gave a brief nod, his tone casual. “Apparently. She built a new one last month. Remote, high-grade wards, designed for advanced ritual work.”
“You mean a personal training hall,” Irina muttered, half-impressed. “That sounds like her.”
“She mentors Ethan and me there.”
“Heeeh…..So you accepted training under her gaze? You?”
“Heeeh… So you accepted training under her gaze? You?” Irina drawled, her amber eyes gleaming with mischief.
Astron didn’t flinch. “She played her cards right.”
Irina raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”
“No recording devices. No surveillance,” he said simply. “Not even the academy’s automatic mana registers can trace what happens inside.”
Irina’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “Tch… I see. As expected from you.”
“Indeed,” Astron replied, unfazed.
And then—
Pinch.
Astron’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit as Irina’s fingers jabbed into his side with a quick, practiced snap. He shifted half a step away, his expression composed but tinged with a trace of exasperation.
“…What was that for?”
Irina’s grin widened, unabashed. “You are going to be my study partner for the midterms.”
Astron gave her a long, flat look. “That wasn’t a request, was it.”
“Nope,” she said cheerfully, stepping back into stride beside him.
“Sigh….”
He didn’t argue.
Which, as far as she was concerned, was as good as a yes.
