Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 781

"You can fight me all you want. But eventually, you’ll see. You’ll come to me. Because without me… you’ll lose everything. Him included."

Maya’s trembling fingers slowly loosened their grip on the edge of the bed as her breathing steadied. The suffocating silence in the room gave way to the quiet hum of her thoughts. Her mind replayed the voice’s words, each one sharp and cruel, but they weren’t entirely baseless.

The voice wasn’t wrong—it wasn’t entirely right either—but it had struck at truths she hadn’t wanted to confront. The realization gnawed at her, forcing her to reflect on everything that had brought her here, to this moment.

Her confrontation with Irina.

Her faltering resolve.

Her failure to stand firm.

And then, amidst the chaos of her thoughts, a memory surfaced—calm and steady, like a ripple in still water.

"Your vampiric part is also a part of yourself. It is not a weakness necessarily."

The words were Astron’s, spoken with his characteristic composure, as if they were the simplest truth in the world.

Maya’s breath hitched as the memory settled over her, soothing the raw edges of her mind. She could almost hear his voice, feel the weight of his words grounding her.

’I see,’ she thought, her lips parting slightly.

Her gaze drifted to her hands, the faint crescent-shaped marks on her palms from her clenched fists serving as a stark reminder of her struggles. But now, those marks felt less like symbols of failure and more like proof of something greater—her resilience.

Her vampiric side, the part of her she had fought so hard to suppress, wasn’t just an adversary. It wasn’t just a threat. It was her.

The chaos, the hunger, the raw instincts—it wasn’t weakness. It was strength, untamed and misunderstood.

’We’re not opposites,’ Maya realized, her heart steadying. ’We’re two sides of the same coin. My normal self, my discipline, my control—they’re not enough alone. But neither is the chaos of my other side.’

The voice within her, once venomous and mocking, had fallen silent, as if waiting for her to understand what it had been saying all along.

"What do I need to do?" Maya asked softly, her voice trembling but resolute.

She didn’t expect an answer, but in the stillness of her room, clarity began to take shape.

To deny her other self was to deny her own strength. To suppress it was to cripple herself.

Acceptance.

That was the answer.

Maya closed her eyes, her breath steadying as she whispered, "I accept you. All of you."

A low, almost amused chuckle resonated in her mind, but it wasn’t mocking this time. It carried a strange warmth, a sense of approval.

"Ho?" the voice murmured, softer now, almost playful. "So, you’ve finally figured it out."

Maya opened her eyes, her gaze steady and sharp, as if the weight of her realization had already begun to shift something deep within her.

"You’re me," she said aloud, her voice firm. "Not a weakness. Not an enemy. You’re me, and I won’t run from you anymore."

"Heh...Interesting…." The voice hummed, pleased.

"But I do have my own conditions."

********

"Interesting."

Watching the video that had now become a hot topic on the entire school forum, a girl with silver hair cascading down to her waist spoke. Her voice was soft, yet carried an edge of curiosity. The silver strands shimmered faintly in the dim light of her room as she leaned closer to the screen. The faint glow from her monitor illuminated her sharp, pale features and the icy blue eyes that studied the video with quiet intensity.

On the screen, the video looped: a dimly lit room, four sophomores advancing on a lone figure. The young man with purple eyes and black hair stood at the center, silent, unflinching, as Victor Langley and his lackeys surrounded him.

The first blow landed—a sickening crunch that echoed faintly through the recording. Blood splattered, painting the metallic floor and walls. The girl’s expression didn’t falter. Her eyes flickered between the aggressors’ actions and the still, resolute demeanor of the beaten.

"How peculiar," she murmured, her fingers lightly brushing her chin. The young man—Astron, she recognized—wasn’t cowering. He wasn’t pleading. Despite the viciousness of the attack, there was no sign of fear in his eyes. Only a quiet, unshakable resolve.

’Most people would at least try to defend themselves in such a situation. Fight back, run, or even beg. But not him. Why?’

Her thoughts lingered on the details of his demeanor, replaying the moment his cold, unwavering gaze met the camera’s lens. She rewound the video to watch it again, her pale features reflecting an unspoken intrigue.

"Astron Natusalune," she mumbled the name, tasting each syllable.

It was a name she had encountered more than once, and every time, it seemed to pull her interest further. First, Irina and her changes. Then, there was the letter from her mother, containing a cryptic warning that had piqued her curiosity.