Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 979

The moment Victor left their circle, the tension didn’t vanish—it simply hung, coiled like smoke above a fire that hadn’t quite gone out.

Silence clung to the group for a few seconds longer before Lucas exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Okay… can we just acknowledge how weirdly intense that was?"

Lilia nodded slowly. "He moved faster than I could see."

Irina, still holding residual heat in her psions, looked at Astron, her gaze narrowed—not in suspicion, but in sheer calculation. "You didn’t flinch."

Astron glanced toward her. "Why would I?"

Before she could respond, Ethan stepped up beside him, brow furrowed, concern drawn across his face like tension in a bowstring. "Astron, you good?"

Astron turned his eyes to him. Calm. Distant, as always.

"I don’t mind it."

His tone was as casual as if they were discussing a mild inconvenience. "Words don’t bruise."

Ethan frowned slightly but nodded. He knew Astron meant it. That didn’t make it sit any easier.

Still, his eyes drifted.

Across the hall—Victor stood near the far column now, arms folded, face as still and unreadable as ever… but his gaze? It remained sharp. Focused.

Not on the crowd.

Not on the instructors.

But on them.

Ethan’s jaw set slightly.

Julia noticed.

She leaned in a bit, giving him a sideways look, arms folded again. "What was that?"

Ethan didn’t look away from Victor. "Not sure."

Julia followed his line of sight, and her lips tugged into a smirk. "Regained your fire?"

Ethan gave a quiet, half-laugh. "Something like that."

Before the conversation could deepen, the sharp clap of hands cut through the air—firm and commanding.

Instructor Verren stood at the center of the room again, his presence pulling attention like gravity.

"Form up," he barked. "Final announcements before dismissal."

Instructor Verren stood tall at the center of the training hall, his sharp gaze sweeping across the cadets now gathering back in line. Sweat clung to uniforms, a few bruises had already begun to form on arms and ribs, and the faint residual crackle of mana still lingered in the air.

But no one dared to look fatigued.

Not with Verren watching.

He clapped his hands once—sharp, commanding, final.

"Good effort today," he said, his voice booming across the training hall. "A few of you showed clear improvements in both discipline and technique. Others… still need reminding that recklessness is not strength."

His gaze didn’t linger long on anyone in particular, but the weight of his words found their mark.

Then, he lifted his hand and tapped his tablet once. A projection glyph shimmered to life behind him, displaying brief clips from several sparring matches—paused at key moments.

"First."

He gestured toward a still of Astron Natusalune and Julia Middleton, mid-clash—Julia’s blade caught against Astron’s forearm, his weight turned in close, her momentum half-redirected.

"Natusalune and Middleton." His tone sharpened, eyes flicking to both of them. "A textbook example of what close-quarters combat between hunters should look like."

Julia’s brow arched slightly in surprise. Astron, unsurprisingly, showed no reaction.