Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 1029

Marked.

But he stopped there.

Even this was risky.

He could mark no more than one at a time—two, if the academy's detection wards weren't finely tuned that day.

But today?

They were.

He could feel it in the ambient air pressure. The subtle resistance of arcane scrutiny drifting just beneath the casual weight of sunlight. The Arcadia wards had grown sharper.

More alert.

Probably due to the scouts.

Probably because of people like him.

If he overcast—if his mana dipped just a bit too high—someone would notice.

And he could not afford notice.

He rolled his shoulder slightly, adjusted his collar, and kept walking.

Two marked.

That would have to suffice for now.

Leonard flexed his fingers once—lightly, casually, as though stretching—and felt the resistance in the air press just a little tighter against his skin. Yes. That was the limit.

Any more, and the Arcadian ward lattice would notice. Not an alarm—not a blaring siren—but a nudge. A whisper to the on-site surveillance teams that someone was casting without declaration.

He wasn't ready for that attention.

Not yet.

So he moved.

His coat trailed behind him as he descended the stairwell into the student-level walkways—elegant stone corridors curved with gentle arches and gilded mana-lanterns, each tuned to adjust to cadet energy levels. The academy's infrastructure hummed with quiet life.

Leonard tracked the first signature, his steps light, mind already constructing the cadence of the encounter—

—when it hit him.

A pressure.

Not direct.

Not sharp.

But sudden. Wide.

His foot paused mid-step.

And his body stiffened.

A wave of raw mana had rippled through the ether—not in his direction, not near him—but large enough to touch everything in the quadrant. Like a tremor rolling beneath the stone, barely felt, but too unnatural to mistake.

Leonard's breath stilled.

'What…?'

It wasn't pain.

It wasn't even destabilization.

It was disruption.

As if two forces had collided—not violently, but deeply. Not a clash of spells, but of principles.

Two sources of mana—vast, tempered, and opposing—had brushed against one another.

And it had sent a cold shiver up his spine.

Leonard's gaze darted toward the sky for a split second.

Then down the length of the corridor.

There was no explosion. No screams. No announcements.

Just that pressure, and now—nothing.

'Was that… the Headmaster?'

It was possible. Jonathan Hartley was no ordinary mage. If someone had triggered a defense ward near his proximity…

But no.

That wasn't a solar pattern.

The mana wasn't light-based.

It wasn't lunar either.

It was older. Broader.

Elementless in the worst kind of way—like something not meant to be shaped.

Leonard stood still, his heartbeat steady, even as his mind raced beneath his still exterior.

Was something happening?

Had something awakened?

Or worse—

Had something recognized him?

He didn't know.