Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 969

Chapter 969 224.2 - Illusions and Hammer

Carl turned toward him. His expression unchanged. But there was the faintest edge in his voice now, low and calm:

"...You're messing with my eyes."

Lucas didn't deny it.

Didn't need to.

'Phase Two: Confirmed. Subconscious response is starting to register false signals!

He lowered his sword slightly, stepping sideways across the platform. Calm. Composed. His mana continued to whisper beneath his feet.

Not a single chant.

Not a single visual cast.

Because his illusions weren't spells anymore.

They were integrated.

Threaded into his sword style. Layered into posture. Motion. Angle. Eye contact.

Every step was a suggestion.

Every gesture a manipulation.

And the best part?

He was still holding back.

Lucas circled again, testing Carl's shoulders. Watching where he shifted weight. He was close to identifying Carl's anchor point-the micro-habit he used to start most of his movements. Once he had that...

'One more exchange!

He blurred again-this time, less stealth, more agression.

CLANG. CLANG. SWOOSH.

Lucas's blade moved like a ribbon of silver, sharp and flowing.

Carl blocked one strike. Dodged another. Then retaliated.

BOOM.

The hammer struck down again-intended to cage Lucas in. Lucas ducked low, spun sideways, and slid to Carl's back.

[Phantom Reflection - Third Layer]

He didn't strike.

He whispered.

"Behind you."

Carl didn't turn. Didn't react.

Smart.

Instead-

THUMP.

He slammed his shield behind him blindly.

A direct counter to Lucas's bait.

Lucas grinned, retreating just in time as the heavy metal whooshed past his nose. 'Clever boy!

He came to a stop, exhaled, and lowered his blade.

Then, Lucas straightened slowly, exhaling through his nose. The blade in his hand caught the light-angled just slightly, the flat tilting off to the side. A posture so familiar it was second nature.

The Middleton Sword Style.

He didn't need to speak. The stance said enough.

No more tests. No more simulations.

Now he would simply fight.

The sword in his hand lowered into a loose, flowing grip. His feet realigned, subtle and precise. Shoulders eased. Breath leveled. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. But the shift in aura was unmistakable.

He had stopped studying.

He was ready to play.

From the corner of his eye, he caught it.

Astron.

Standing near the edge of the platform, half-shrouded by the shadows, but watching. As he always did. Calculating. Absorbing.

Lucas's eyes narrowed just slightly.

'Indeed... with him being a possible diversion, I can't reveal too much!

Not yet.

That one-Astron-was too perceptive. Too sharp around the edges. Lucas couldn't afford to overplay his hand here, especially not with them watching from the background. Especially not when the game was far more layered than this platform. So he adjusted his output.

The illusions faded-not entirely, but just enough to blend into his rhythm. No more artificial doubles. No more external flickers. Just slight afterimages. Blade trails. Tempo breaks.

Just enough to keep you guessing.

Carl stepped forward then, slow and grounded. He lifted his shield fully and twisted his grip on the hammer, and as he did, the air around him began to hum.

THRRRMMM.

Stone resonated beneath him. The platform trembled softly as the mana flared-low,

dense, earthen.

And then came the stance.

The Braveheart family's signature:

Fortress Form

Shield at center. Hammer poised above the shoulder. Knees bent to absorb impact. Every inch of Carl's form spoke of resistance, not just to force-but to deception. He wasn't fast, but he was rooted. Immovable.

Lucas smiled.

'So be it'

He moved.

CLANG. CLANG. SWOOSH.

The duel began again-not as a test, but as a clash of legacies.

Lucas struck with Middleton's 2nd form: Weaving Mirage

His steps were intricate, forming half-circles that danced around Carl's shield. He angled his sword in seemingly impossible arcs, flicking and rebounding from multiple

vectors.

Carl held firm.

BOOM.

Hammer swept down in a brutal arc-Lucas twisted inside the swing, sliding under the arm, blade tracing along the edge of Carl's shield.

CLANK!

The sound rang out like a bell. Carl turned, catching Lucas's retreating shoulder with

the rim of the shield.

THUD.

Lucas stumbled back a step. Not damaged. But pushed. The strength behind Carl's

shield strikes was a threat in itself.

He didn't retreat.

Instead, he responded. Middleton Sword - 4th Form: Phantom Step]

His body blurred-momentarily seeming to vanish. When he reappeared, it wasn't behind or to the side-but midair, flipping past Carl's shield, blade whistling

downward.

SLASH-CRACK!