Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 1002

The walls of Reina's office glowed faintly, the mana filaments in the ceiling dimmed to a muted, soothing pulse. The scent of cold paper and polished wood filled the room, and for a few precious minutes, Reina allowed herself the luxury of silence. Her fingers traced the rim of the untouched glass beside her, the remnants of her earlier indulgence forgotten.

Then—the comm-stone embedded in her desk pulsed, a low, deliberate vibration that resonated through the heavy wood.

An Anchor contact.

High priority.

Reina sighed under her breath, steeling herself. She pressed her palm lightly against the stone, and the holographic projection flared to life above the desk—crisp lines, minimal distortion. On the other side, a figure materialized: formal robes layered in deep gray and silver, the insignia of the Anchor Corps woven subtly across the collar. His face was half-shadowed by the encryption filters, but Reina recognized him immediately.

"Watcher Reina," the man said without preamble. His voice was clipped, official. "We need to discuss the recent developments."

Reina inclined her head slightly. "Of course. I assume this is about the activation event."

"It is. And the subsequent reclassification shifts," he said, his gaze narrowing. "We are conducting a reassessment of previously registered Adepts. Particularly those flagged under 'contingency compatibility.'"

Reina's expression didn't shift, but she knew where this was going. She waited.

The Anchor continued, his voice sharp. "Specifically—[Adept Astron]."

There it was.

"We noticed he is currently classified as inactive—dormant," the man said, consulting a secondary feed off-screen. "Due to his enrollment status at the Arcadia Hunter Academy. His previous assessments and predictive modeling marked him as exceptionally compatible. His age also places him within the critical bracket."

Reina let the silence stretch for a second longer before answering.

"That's correct," she said coolly. "He is presently inactive due to the Academy's current restrictions. Since the start of the new cycle, Arcadia tightened security—entrance and exit privileges are heavily monitored. No active deployment without internal authorization."

The Anchor frowned slightly. "Is there no method to bypass this limitation? His performance markers put him in the top tier for adaptive resonance. It would be a waste to leave such an asset unused during this critical stage."

Reina's lips quirked at that—humorless, but faintly amused.

"Under normal circumstances, perhaps there might have been ways to... encourage movement," she said. "But with the way the political pressure is mounting around the academies right now, it's delicate. Any direct extraction attempt would cause backlash we can't afford."

A beat.

"However," Reina continued, her voice more measured, "the situation is evolving."

She leaned back slightly in her chair, fingers steepled before her.

"The Academy is currently in the middle of mid-terms. And given the trajectory of the external pressure—especially now that the Association and Guilds are beginning to realize how the gates are selecting their entrants—there's little doubt."

She let the next words fall with the certainty of a knife:

"The Academy will be forced to loosen their restrictions. Sooner rather than later."

The Anchor studied her silently for a moment, processing the implications.

"So you're saying..." he prompted.

"I'm saying," Reina said, her voice like polished steel, "that once the cracks widen, we will have access. And when that happens—[Adept Astron] will be moved back into active status."

She allowed herself a small, tight smile.

"He won't stay asleep for long."

The projection flickered briefly as the Anchor acknowledged the transmission. "Understood. We will prepare a standby protocol in the meantime. If a window appears—notify us immediately."

Reina inclined her head once, the formalities complete.

The connection severed with a soft chime, leaving the office bathed once more in quiet, pulsing mana-light.

Then, she sat in silence for a long moment, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of her desk. The glow of the comm-stone had faded, but the weight of the conversation remained. Her thoughts drifted, sharp and focused—not just on protocols and contingency drafts, but on him.

Astron Natusalune.

Young, but not unproven. Unranked, but not unread. A ghost in the system who shouldn't exist by design—yet somehow fit too perfectly into what the world was becoming.

'He deserves to know,' Reina thought. 'He's not just a tool to be pulled from storage. He's still one of ours.'

Her fingers moved across the surface of the desk, tracing a command glyph in a clean stroke. A small circle blinked once—linked to Astron's Watch ID.

Connection initializing...

The mana screen shimmered for a breath, stabilizing. It didn't ring. No audio chime. Just a direct call routed through the Watchers' network encryption—quiet and immediate.

The image flickered once before stabilizing.