Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 932

Ethan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "No, not mad," he muttered, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

Julia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? No sarcastic comeback? No dramatic sigh of despair? You feeling okay, Mountain Boy?"

Ethan let out a soft chuckle, finally unfolding his arms. "I mean, yeah, it sucks. But if the academy is cracking down this hard, it means they’re taking things seriously. And that’s… not exactly a bad thing."

Lucas glanced at him, tilting his head. "You’re actually fine with this?"

Ethan pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders. "Fine? Not really. But think about it—if clubs are out, then they’re gonna push us harder in training instead. No more distractions, no more splitting focus between clubs and coursework." He crossed his arms again, this time with a slight smirk. "I wouldn’t be surprised if they ramp up combat drills. Hell, maybe they’ll even throw in a field training exercise."

Carl hummed in thought, nodding. "That actually makes sense. They need to keep us engaged, and without club activities, they’re probably going to enforce more hands-on training."

Irina’s gaze flickered with interest. "A field exercise wouldn’t be a bad idea," she mused. "If they’re serious about making us stronger, then they won’t let us sit idle."

"True," Lilia added, though she groaned dramatically. "But that means more early morning drills, more evaluations, more ways for Eleanor to terrify us…"

Julia snorted. "Please. You thrive under pressure."

Lilia wiggled her fingers in mock horror. "Not that kind of pressure."

Ethan’s smirk didn’t fade. The disappointment of losing the tournament was still there, but something about the shift in academy policies left him… satisfied. If this was the academy’s way of taking back control, then fine. It just meant they were stepping into a new phase.

One where things would be tougher. More grueling.

And if that was the case?

Then good.

Because Ethan was more than ready.

****

The sophomore classroom was already buzzing with agitation when Maya stepped inside. Conversations were heated, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as cadets vented to one another about the newly enacted restrictions.

She had expected this.

The tension between the years had been rising for weeks, but now, with the academy’s heavy-handed response, it was suffocating.

And she wasn’t happy about it either.

Her expression remained composed as she took her seat, but inwardly, irritation curled beneath her skin like smoldering embers.

This was going to be a waste of time.

The professor entered, and the noise only grew louder.

"Alright," the instructor called out, setting a tablet down on the podium. "Settle down."

The class did not settle down.

"Professor, is this for real?!" one of the cadets near the front demanded, gripping the edge of his desk.

"Shutting down clubs is ridiculous," another snapped.

"You’re treating us like criminals! We weren’t the ones starting fights—"

"Then why are we the ones being punished?!"

Maya exhaled slowly through her nose as the protests swelled.

She wasn’t going to argue on principle like the others, but she was irritated.

Because this meant that the History and Arts Club—the one place where she had a guaranteed, uninterrupted space with him—was gone.

The professor didn’t raise his voice, but his next words cut through the chaos with sharp authority.

"Quiet."

The students grudgingly lowered their voices, but the tension still lingered, thick and oppressive.

Maya crossed her arms, her fingers tapping lightly against her sleeve as she listened.

"The new regulations are not open for negotiation," the professor said. "These decisions were made by the headmaster himself. If you have complaints, you can file an official appeal. But I warn you now—it won’t change anything."

A murmur of discontent swept through the class.

Maya’s lips pressed into a thin line.

"What a joke."

The voice in her head slithered into her thoughts, laced with contempt.

"They’re acting like this is some strategic decision, but it’s not. It’s desperation. They don’t know how to control the chaos, so they’re tightening the leash on everyone."

Maya’s nails lightly scraped against her sleeve.

She agreed.

Even without her other self voicing it, she had already come to that conclusion.

But that didn’t change the reality of the situation.

She wouldn’t be able to meet with Astron freely anymore.

And given how the divide between first-years and sophomores had escalated, approaching him outside of regulated areas would be difficult.

It was frustrating.

"What are you going to do about it?" her other self whispered, voice smooth but taunting. "Sit here like the rest of them and accept it?"

Maya remained silent.