Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 1020

"Watch what, though?"

Her voice was softer now. Too soft.

Her smile curved—not like a question, but like a blade tracing along the edge of a sheath.

"I am really curious on that."

Leonard didn't blink.

But he felt it.

That subtle shift behind her gaze. A faint shimmer beneath her words. Not overt—not yet—but the weight of intent, pressed down lightly, like a palm resting on the lid of a boiling pot.

She knew something.

And she wanted him to know that she knew.

He kept his tone neutral. Smooth. As practiced as ever.

"Just watching stars," he said. "Isn't that what we're all here for?"

Her smile widened as if he'd just confirmed something for her.

"I suppose we are," she murmured. "Though some stars burn a little differently, don't they? Some shimmer. Some flare. Some… vanish altogether when you look too hard."

And then—

She moved closer.

Casually, but with precision. Her hip brushed the edge of his seat, and her arm ghosted against his shoulder as she leaned just enough to peer at his slate.

"So tell me, Scout," she said, voice like velvet over glass. "Which of these lovely little prodigies have caught your eye?"

Her breath smelled faintly of something sweet—not natural. A mana-laced charm. Soft. Sophisticated.

And then her presence shifted again.

Just slightly.

A gentle pressure traced against his thoughts—not invasive, but probing. Subtle waves of mana, too refined for novice enchanters. Not domination. Not suggestion.

Curiosity.

Designed to lower walls. Invite openness. Maybe even nudge a slip of the tongue.

She was reading his responses. His emotions.

Or trying to. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Leonard let the moment stretch. Let her lean in.

Let her believe he hadn't noticed.

The fragrance drifted toward his nose—spiced plum, soft night herbs, laced with passive intent.

And then—

Nothing.

The spell found no purchase.

Her charm, her mana, her scent—everything rolled off him like mist against obsidian.

Because Leonard's constitution—blessed, altered, shaped by rites that even most priests had never heard of—rendered such magic inert.

And when his gaze shifted to meet hers again, it wasn't warm.

It wasn't disarming.

It was cold.

Still polite. Still diplomatic.

But behind his eyes, something sharp watched her now.

She saw it immediately.

And laughed.

A low, delighted sound that rang softly under the hum of mana screens.

"Oh, I like you," she purred, pulling back just enough to cross one leg over the other with languid elegance. "Sharp, quiet, and dangerous. They really are getting creative with recruitment these days."

Leonard's tone was even. "Your spell won't work on me."

"I noticed," she replied easily. "Though it wasn't a spell. Just… conversation, with intent."

She offered her hand, as if they were in a ballroom instead of a war room.

"Velvetin. No family name. Not anymore."

Her smile deepened, sly and amused. "Scout for the Mirrored Thorn. We're not on the public registries."

Leonard didn't take her hand.

Velvetin didn't seem offended.

"In my line of work, we chase threads," she said, still watching him with that predator's calm. "Stray bloodlines. Lost talents. People who don't belong where they were planted."

Her eyes gleamed faintly now. Not with mana.

With meaning.

"People like the ones you're watching."

Leonard leaned back, arms folding slowly.

"And what happens," he asked, "when you catch one of those threads?"

Velvetin smiled.

But this time, it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"That depends entirely," she said softly, "on how tightly they're woven."

And just like that, she rose again—her expression playful, her presence somehow heavier now.

"I'll let you return to your stargazing, Leonard. But do let me know if you find one that eclipses the others."

She turned with a rustle of crimson fabric and vanished into the seated rows with practiced ease—blending back into the watching crowd like smoke slipping through cracks.

Leonard watched her go, eyes narrowing slightly.

Velvetin. Mirrored Thorn.

A guild not registered.

And yet here.

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