Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 1025

The late afternoon light filtered down through the mana-laced clouds above the Academy's eastern wing, casting fractured blue-white beams over the training plaza where the dungeon gates shimmered faintly, waiting.

Ethan stood just beyond the edge of the marble steps, eyes fixed toward the horizon—not looking at anything in particular. His spear was slung across his back, the strap cutting diagonally over his shoulder. His gloves were already on, and his gauntlet glyphs hummed faintly with pre-channelled psions.

Still, he hadn't moved in nearly a full minute.

"Where are you looking at?" ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Thud.

A hard smack landed on his shoulder.

"Gah—Julia!" Ethan flinched and stepped forward, nearly stumbling from the sheer force behind her hit. "Do you ever not hit like you're trying to dislocate something?"

Julia raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. "Would you prefer I aim for your ribs next time? You're staring into the void like someone in a soap opera. Focus up, Hartley."

"I was focused," Ethan muttered, rubbing the sore spot beneath his coat.

"Sure. On the afterlife maybe," she shot back, then glanced over her shoulder. "Team's already checking gear. Let's go."

They descended the final steps together, where the rest of their squad had gathered near the active gate line.

Their group of five wasn't elite—at least not on paper—but they'd worked together long enough to find rhythm. Julia was the leader, by rank and presence both. Ethan, second in command—less vocal, but no less steady.

Then there was Raine, a mid-tier Light Affinity who handled healing and defense glyphs. A bit of a perfectionist, and currently double-checking her restoration crystals like her life depended on it.

Marin, a Windwalker speardancer who could not sit still, was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. His scarf was tied tight across his jaw, eyes flicking toward the gate every few seconds like it might explode.

The final member of their squad stood a little apart from the others, adjusting the tension of her bowstring with slow, practiced motions. Kaela, their long-range specialist and forward scout. Tall, lean, and quiet, with sharp gray eyes that missed nothing. Her job was to mark the path, predict enemy positioning, and put an arrow through a threat before it could breathe in their direction.

Julia had wanted someone else in that role originally. Someone colder. More precise. Someone who saw paths and counters before they even existed.

Astron.

But that offer had never gone through. Whether because of scheduling, politics, or just Astron being Astron, Julia had been forced to pivot. And Kaela, while not the replacement she imagined, had earned her place through consistency.

Still… the pressure showed.

It showed in the stiffness of Kaela's stance, in the way her fingers lingered too long on her quiver, in the subtle glances the rest of the squad threw toward the watching towers above. The faint shimmer of surveillance glyphs glowed across the upper walkways, and though the scouts had said nothing—made no grand entrances or announcements—their presence was felt in every movement, every breath.

Raine's lips were tight. Marin had stopped bouncing. Even Deacon stood a little straighter, as if trying to make his silhouette look more disciplined.

Julia noticed.

And, in typical Julia fashion, she smiled.

Not the usual cocky grin. Not the sharp smirk she wore during duels. Just a confident, easy smile that was meant to break tension.

"Well," she said, one hand on her hip as she looked around at the squad. "We all know the drill. This is just another dungeon. You've all done dozens. One foot in front of the other, stick to the plan, don't die, and we walk out looking prettier than when we walked in."

Marin gave her a flat look. "That speech worked better when we weren't being judged by half the Federation."

Kaela muttered under her breath, "Easy to say when no one's watching you."

That struck harder than it should have—but no one said it was wrong.

Julia was from the Middleton Family. Old name. Deep legacy. One of the cornerstone bloodlines of the East. She didn't need to impress the scouts. Her path was already carved in granite. A few top guilds had probably already sent offers under the table, and she hadn't even glanced at them.

So when she told them to "just relax," it didn't land.

Because for them—Raine, Marin, Kaela, Deacon—this mattered.

This was the moment that decided whether they'd be recruited into real teams or buried in backline support roles for the rest of their careers.

And no matter how well Julia led, she couldn't understand that fear.

Not the way they did.

Ethan saw it.

Saw the way Kaela's fingers kept brushing her bowstring like it was the only thing grounding her. Saw the way Raine stared at the ground, whispering some small mantra beneath her breath. Saw how Marin had stopped moving altogether.

Ethan glanced once at Julia's smile.

She meant well. She always did.

But intent didn't always meet reception. Not when the air was this tight, when the surveillance glyphs above burned like judgmental stars, and half a dozen recruiting captains were no doubt already watching with pens in hand.