Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 985

The door sealed behind Ethan with a soft hiss, leaving only Eleanor and Astron in the training hall’s quiet. The low ambient hum of mana regulators pulsed steadily in the background, a constant rhythm—unlike the silence that now stretched between them.

Eleanor didn’t speak immediately.

She watched him for a moment—how he stood, not tense, not relaxed, simply still. The kind of stillness that came from someone always measuring, always processing.

Her voice broke the silence, calm and level.

"I watched your duel with Julia."

Astron didn’t blink. His gaze remained steady. "I assumed."

"I wasn’t the only one," she added, stepping forward slowly, hands clasped behind her back. "But I doubt anyone else saw what I did."

He didn’t respond—just waited.

"I’ve seen plenty of students adapt to pressure. Many can copy patterns, borrow forms, even mimic techniques. But that isn’t what you did."

Eleanor stopped a few paces in front of him, her eyes meeting his directly.

"You weren’t mimicking. You were comprehending."

Astron’s brow twitched.

She continued, her voice low. "When you fought Julia… you held back. But not because you were unsure. You were experimenting. You were learning the blade in real time."

Another step forward.

"And your body responded like it already knew how to use it."

She let the words settle.

Then, with the kind of precision that cut deeper than most blades, she asked:

"Do you want to learn the sword?"

Astron’s eyes sharpened slightly. His eyebrows lifted—just a fraction—but enough.

His head tilted, that subtle, familiar gesture of quiet scrutiny. "Why would I?"

A fair question. His tone wasn’t dismissive. Just… curious. He didn’t move. Didn’t deny. Just waited for her logic.

Eleanor exhaled softly through her nose. "You’re not a swordsman. That much is true. Your class is registered as Daggerist, with a secondary in Archery."

She paused, watching for a reaction.

"And yet… the Archery class wasn’t present at the start of the semester, was it?"

His gaze narrowed, slightly.

"I checked the records," she said. "You registered your Archer class late. After the first month."

A beat.

Astron didn’t hide it. He gave a small nod. "Correct."

"So you awakened it mid-term," Eleanor concluded. "It wasn’t part of your original class set. But it appeared—and when it did, you adapted to it immediately."

Another silence passed between them.

"You were a Daggerist. Pure melee," she said. "Then suddenly, mid-semester, you gained a ranged class. With no recorded incident or awakening event logged. No public duel. No awakening arena claim."

Astron’s tone remained calm. "I never felt the need to announce it."

Eleanor nodded, unsurprised.

"I don’t care about the theatrics," she said. "But I do care about what it means."

She stepped closer now—her voice lowering.

"Traits don’t just evolve without cause. And classes don’t shift unless the core is capable of resonating with something new."

Her gaze fixed on his eyes.

"That duel with Julia confirmed what I suspected. You can adapt to swordplay—not as a borrowed tool, but as if it belongs to you. Like Archery did. Like Daggerist once did. And if that’s the case…"

She took one last step.

"…then what you are, Astron, may not be defined by a single class."

Astron held her gaze, unflinching.

There was no hostility in his eyes—just that familiar calm, veiled behind thought. He tilted his head a little, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, it almost looked like he would let her words hang unchallenged.

Then, softly—

"You’re speculating too much."

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, but said nothing yet.

"I didn’t learn how to use a sword during that duel," he continued. "I adapted. That’s all. Adjusted spacing. Countered momentum. Measured tempo."

His tone was flat, not defensive—simply correcting her interpretation, as if laying down a more accurate report.

"From your angle, it might have looked like understanding. From mine? It was just—response."

He paused, then added, "I also didn’t hide my strength, if that’s what you’re implying."

Eleanor’s lips curled slightly.

A small, knowing smile.

"That won’t work on me," she said, voice smooth. "I know you’re more capable than that."

Astron didn’t answer.

She stepped a little closer.

"But let’s say you’re right," she allowed, gesturing faintly with one hand. "Let’s say I am reading too much into it. That I’m assigning too much meaning to a series of clean responses and blade familiarity."

Then, her eyes narrowed just slightly.

"Why do you hesitate?"

Astron’s brow furrowed faintly. "What do you mean?"

"I’m not asking you to become a swordsman," Eleanor said. "I’m offering to teach you—personally—how to wield the blade. How to refine a skill you’ve already proven capable of grasping. So I ask again…"

She looked him in the eye.

"What do you lose by saying yes?"

There was silence.

Then—Astron spoke again, a fraction softer.

"I lose my time," he said. "Time spent learning something that likely won’t benefit me. I’m not a close-quarters duelist. My class synergy is between Daggerist and Archer. The blade doesn’t align with either path."

Eleanor’s eyes glinted. "Doesn’t it?"

Astron didn’t respond.

She stepped around him now, slow, deliberate, her voice steady behind him.

"You and I both know that’s not true. You’re already using sword structure in your dagger work. You use deflections, spacing, even reaction-based counters that are sword-adjacent. Your footwork mimics half-guard principles. Your tempo-breaking mimics single-beat assault systems."

She circled back in front of him.

"If that’s not alignment, I don’t know what is."

Still no reply.

Eleanor exhaled lightly.