Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 708

Chapter 708 159.3 - The case of plants

"Maybe it's because you're not used to expressing yourself? All that cold, stoic energy -you probably have no idea how to let loose, do you?"

Astron froze for a moment, his sharp gray eyes narrowing slightly. "Not used to expressing myself?" he repeated, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. Irina smirked, oblivious to the shift in his tone. "Exactly. That's probably why your painting feels so... rigid. You're always so focused, so in control. You don't know how to just let go and be free, do you?"

Astron turned to her fully, setting his brush aside. His expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath the surface. "And you think chaotic brushstrokes are the epitome of freedom?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild. "Perhaps you should look a little closer. There's a fine line between freedom and a lack of direction."

Irina blinked, taken aback for a moment before recovering with a defiant huff. "Are you calling my painting directionless?"

"I'm saying," Astron replied evenly, his gaze steady, "that chaos without purpose is just noise. And maybe that's what you're comfortable with-noise. It hides the things you don't want to address."

For a moment, Irina was silent, the playful atmosphere turning unexpectedly charged. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. It wasn't anger or embarrassment-it was the realization that Astron, in his usual way, had seen straight through her.

"Well," she said after a moment, crossing her arms and turning away with a small pout, "you're still a terrible painter."

Astron's lips twitched faintly, his gaze steady as he glanced at Irina. "Then, how about another round?"

Irina blinked, caught off guard, but before she could reply, the small crowd gathered around them chimed in. A few children tugged at her sleeve, their eyes wide with admiration. "Miss, can you paint another one? Please?" one of them asked, their voice filled with awe.

Irina's expression softened, and she turned to the eager faces surrounding her. How could she say no to that? With a small smirk, she crossed her arms and glanced back at Astron. "Fine. One more. But don't blame me if your second one turns out even worse than the first."

"We'll see," Astron said evenly, picking up a fresh canvas as the two moved to their new spots.

This time, the energy between them was different. Astron's first stroke revealed a stark improvement, his brush gliding over the canvas with a new sense of purpose. It was clear he had taken note of his earlier mistakes, each movement deliberate yet fluid. His colors blended harmoniously, and his lines carried a confidence that had been absent before. Onlookers murmured in amazement, some even questioning whether he had been holding back during his first attempt.

"Look at him," one person said, their voice tinged with disbelief. "Is this really the same guy from before?"

"I know, right? It's like he transformed into a professional in a matter of minutes!" Irina, however, paid no attention to Astron's progress. Her focus was entirely on her own canvas. She had felt something stir within her during her first painting, a faint yet undeniable sense of guidance, and she decided to trust it this time. Her strokes were bold, her colors vibrant yet precise, as if the painting was creating itself through her hands. There was no strategy, no overthinking-just her heart poured onto the

canvas.

When they finished, the crowd around them grew even larger, murmuring with anticipation. Astron set down his brush, his second painting a clear testament to his rapid improvement. It depicted a breathtaking scene of an ethereal waterfall cascading into a serene lake under a shimmering aurora. Every detail was immaculate, from the light reflections on the water to the delicate threads of mana that danced within the aurora. It was as if the painting itself breathed serenity, flawless in its execution.

The crowd erupted into applause, many commenting in awe. "Was he holding back before?" one voice speculated. "This is like a completely different artist!"

But then, Irina stepped back, revealing her work. Gasps rippled through the onlookers, their attention snapping to her canvas.

Her painting wasn't just a picture-it was alive. It depicted a phoenix soaring through a night sky, its wings ablaze with flames that seemed to surge off the canvas. The moon loomed high above, its silver glow casting a serene contrast to the fiery intensity of the phoenix. The flames themselves flickered faintly as if imbued with a spark of life, and the phoenix's expression-its yearning, its determination-practically radiated from the painting.

"It's alive..." someone whispered, their tone reverent.

Another voice chimed in, "It's... it's more than a painting. It's an emotion."

Compared to Astron's flawless execution, Irina's painting was raw and filled with powerful, uncontainable emotion. While Astron's work was a masterpiece of skill and logical analysis of techniques, hers carried a soul, a story that resonated deeply with those who saw it.

Astron's gray eyes lingered on her painting for a moment before he nodded slightly, acknowledging the difference.

'Indeed.....'

It wasn't just a painting. The fire on the canvas-it was alive. Every ember seemed to breathe, fueled by an unyielding will, as if Irina herself had poured her very essence into the strokes. The crowd was right: it wasn't just a picture-it was an emotion, a story captured in a moment of raw brilliance.

As he examined it more closely, his mana senses stirred involuntarily, picking up faint traces of something deeper. The fire wasn't just an artistic illusion. No, it carried the unmistakable signature of Irina's Emberheart lineage. Her innate mana, her fiery will, had been infused into the painting, leaving behind a spark that made the flames come alive. This wasn't just skill; it was manifestation of her soul.