Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 981

The classroom was dimly lit, warm sunlight filtering in through high-arched windows, casting long rays across rows of elevated desks and flickering glyph-screens. Professor Varn stood at the front, an elderly Hunter with a face carved from years of battlefield survival and a voice like sand scraping stone.

"The Aethermane is a Class-3 high-speed variant, most commonly found in glacial ruins. Contrary to its feline appearance, it uses wind-type psions, not ice…"

Ethan sat in the third row.

His pen hovered over his tablet, screen open to a half-filled page titled Beast Catalog: Glacial Types.

And yet—he wasn’t writing.

Wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on the glyph diagram at the front of the room, but his eyes were unfocused. Distant.

Because no matter how much he tried to immerse himself in the day’s lesson… his mind kept drifting.

Back to that moment.

Back to the duel.

Victor’s sword resting against his neck.

The weightless, inevitable end.

The way space had bent—just slightly—enough to rob him of impact.

The way his spear, fueled by all his will, all his training, had simply… veered.

Not because he missed.

But because reality itself had told him no.

He shifted in his seat.

The murmured voice of the professor rolled on, naming the next beast: "The Marrowback Hydra. Don’t let the juvenile form deceive you…"

Ethan’s grip on his pen tightened.

He’d fought so hard. Grown so much.

Lightning Step. Arc Reversal. Heaven’s Crack. Every technique that had once pushed him forward now felt… small. Predictable.

He remembered what it felt like, watching Victor lower his sword with the same serenity someone might use to set down a book.

No arrogance.

No disdain.

Just control.

Total control.

And for the first time in a while—since breaking past the barrier into mid-tier ranks, since pushing himself to the limits of his bloodline—Ethan felt small again.

Insignificant.

He exhaled through his nose, head leaning forward slightly as he rested his chin against one hand. His other hand tapped a rhythm against his thigh. Not fidgeting.

Just… trying to feel like he was here.

"Mr. Hartley," Professor Varn’s voice cut through the room like a whip crack.

Ethan blinked, head snapping up.

The entire class had turned toward him.

He sat upright immediately. "Y-Yes?"

Professor Varn didn’t frown. He rarely needed to.

He simply raised one grayed eyebrow and gestured lazily toward the diagram floating beside him. "Since you seem so reflective, perhaps you can tell the class the primary weakness of the Mirror Stalker."

Ethan’s brain scrambled.

Mirror Stalker. Mirror Stalker…

His mouth opened—but no words came out.

He knew this. He should know this. He had read about it last week. A beast that mimicked its prey’s appearance and techniques, adapting rapidly through sensory feedback.

But the answer didn’t surface.

Because all he could see in his mind—

Was Victor.

Standing still.

Deflecting.

Unmoving.