Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 941

Chapter 941 216.1 - Overachievers

Maya's vision was dark.

She floated somewhere just beyond reach of her own body, her thoughts sluggish, like trying to move through thick water. Time felt distant. Her senses, dulled. No sound, no sight—only fragments.

A breath. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

A heartbeat.

A warmth.

Then—

A jolt.

Her mind snapped back like a rubber band stretched too far.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering open. The room came back into focus in pieces—the soft golden glow of the dorm lights, the tea set still resting on the table, and the firm, steady warmth that surrounded her.

And then she realized—

She was in his arms.

Astron.

His arms were wrapped around her, one hand lightly pressed between her shoulder blades, the other steady at her waist. His touch wasn't forceful or invasive. Just steady. Grounding.

Maya froze.

Her body stiffened instantly, breath catching in her throat as her senses caught up to the moment.

What—

Her face burned. Heat flushed into her cheeks so fast it made her dizzy.

She blinked rapidly, trying to pull herself out of the haze. She couldn't remember what had just happened. Not clearly.

There had been… hunger.

That pull. That voice.

And then—nothing.

She'd gone under, as if her mind had simply slipped into sleep. Not unconscious, but silent.

And now—

Now she was here. In his arms.

"Astron," she said, her voice low and hoarse, barely above a whisper.

His grip loosened slightly, but he didn't let go.

"You're back," he said, voice calm as ever, though there was something softer there. Almost relieved.

Maya didn't answer. She couldn't.

Because her body felt strange. Not weak—but sated.

There was no longer that clawing hunger gnawing at her insides. No pressure behind her eyes. No dryness in her throat.

She felt…

Full.

The silence pressed against her chest like a weight. And then, in a single motion, Maya pulled herself out of his embrace, stepping back so fast she nearly stumbled.

Her hands hovered mid-air for a moment, unsure where to go, before clenching tightly by her sides. The space between them suddenly felt too wide and not wide enough.

She couldn't look at him. Not yet.

"Did anything happen?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Astron watched her for a second—long enough that it made her skin crawl with uncertainty—but then, he gave a small shake of his head.

"No. Nothing happened."

Relief washed through her like a tide. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her shoulders sagging just slightly as her heart began to slow.

"That's… good," she murmured.

Her mind still felt foggy, like remnants of a dream clung to her thoughts. But her other self—so loud, so ever-present—was silent now. As if she had slipped into slumber, satisfied.

And with that silence came something Maya hadn't had in a while.

Room to breathe.

Room to think.

Astron stood slowly, brushing invisible creases from his uniform with that same deliberate calm he always carried.

"Did you need anything else?" he asked.

Maya looked at him, really looked. The way the dim light cast shadows across his face, the subtle tension in his frame that he tried to hide.

She almost said something. Almost.

But instead, she shook her head.

"No… I don't."

He nodded. "Is that so?"

She gave a short nod in return.

Astron turned toward the door, his movements measured and unhurried.

"Then I'll be leaving."

A closing door.

And Maya, standing alone, in a dormitory that suddenly felt too quiet.

Maya stood in the silence, unmoving, her heartbeat still slowly settling. Her gaze lingered on the empty space Astron had occupied just moments ago. The warmth of his presence still clung faintly to the room, like a fading ember.

But it was gone now.

And all that was left was her.

And the silence.

She exhaled through her nose, turned on her heel, and walked to the small desk near her bed. Her communicator sat there, still faintly glowing with a soft notification pulse.

A message.

She picked it up and tapped the screen, scanning the sender.

[From: Alden]

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the name. Her brother didn't message often—not unless he had something important to say.

Opening it, she quickly skimmed through the text.

"I've compiled several techniques. Some of them come from older grimoires—structured mental formations, focus channels, pressure locks. They're not combat efficient, but they should help you regulate 'her' more cleanly."