Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 1008

Chapter 1008: Chapter 237.3 - Gate Examination

The first clash came fast.

From the swirling fog ahead, the mutated canids burst forth—deformed, sinewy creatures with jagged bone protrusions where fur should have been. Their forms twisted unnaturally, bending mid-leap to avoid direct lines of sight. But Layla was ready.

Clang!

The lead beast slammed against her shield, the force rattling up her arms. She absorbed the hit with a grunt, digging her boots into the cracked stone floor.

"Engaging first wave!" she called sharply.

Irina moved first. A burst of fire cracked outward from her palm, controlled but vicious, igniting the ground just beyond Layla's shield. The flames forced the canids back, their twisted forms screeching at the sudden blaze.

Jasmine flanked left, blade cutting through the mist in clean arcs. Her strikes weren't wild; they were measured, designed to harry rather than outright kill—giving Sylvie time to layer speed glyphs along their advance.

Astron, true to his word, pivoted silently between their lines. Whenever a canid slipped past Layla's block or Irina's flames wavered for half a second, he was there—dagger flashing, severing tendons, piercing vital points.

Their layered formation shifted dynamically, flowing around the terrain rather than through it.

Wave one ended quickly. The ground littered with twitching, dissipating corpses.

No breathing room.

The heavy constructs emerged next—hulking silhouettes dragging rusted weapons, reanimated armor cracked and glowing from within with unstable mana.

"Constructs incoming!" Astron called, already moving to a higher elevation.

Layla stepped back half a pace, adjusting her stance to brace for the heavier impacts. Sylvie flicked her hands rapidly, layering a series of reinforcement spells over her—shield mana tightening, barrier matrices weaving into the gaps of her armor.

The constructs hit like a landslide—slow, yes, but relentless. Each strike sent shockwaves through the broken streets, crumbling loose debris.

Irina's flames didn't vaporize these enemies like before. The constructs endured, forcing her to adjust.

"Tch... durable bastards," she muttered, snapping her wrist in a sharp motion. Her next flame burst wasn't raw destruction—it was corrosive, eating into mana circuits at weak points Astron quickly highlighted.

Jasmine danced along the flanks, chipping at exposed joints, while Astron moved in ghost-like bursts—striking vulnerable plates then slipping away before the slow-moving hulks could retaliate.

Sylvie coordinated the pressure, boosting speed at key moments and laying down suppression glyphs that slowed the constructs just enough to tip momentum back to their favor.

It was hard, heavy fighting.

But it was controlled.

Disciplined.

The constructs fell one by one, until the last collapsed in a heap of mana-soaked armor fragments.

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The mist drifted again.

Sylvie exhaled quietly, her gloves flickering down to a low hum.

"We're clear... for now."

"No celebration," Astron said immediately, stepping up beside Layla. His coat flickered slightly in the shifting light. "This isn't over."

He pointed into the dense ruins beyond. "Standard procedure. Clear and sweep. We need to locate the boss gate manually."

Irina was already nodding. "No shortcuts. No splitting the team."

She turned a sharp glance at Jasmine, who threw up her hands innocently.

"What? I'm not stupid."

Irina snorted but said no more.

Their seriousness wasn't dramatics. It was professionalism.

Everyone here understood—the scouts watching them wouldn't just grade flashy spellwork or kills.

They would grade fundamentals.

How methodical they were.

How disciplined.

How complete.

And so they moved.

Astron led scouting detachments to collapsed buildings, searching for possible boss gate markers—mana concentrations, shifting structures, energy streams. Layla cleared rubble and maintained front presence. Irina burned through barriers and fortified wreckage when needed. Jasmine managed quick rotations to check blind spots, while Sylvie wove utility spells constantly—vision enhancements, silent movement boosts, structural stabilization glyphs.

They didn't rush.

They didn't get greedy.

They advanced like a proper team.

Astron didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he pointed.

"There. On the outer walls—those gouges aren't natural collapse marks. They're claw traces. Fresh." He shifted his hand slightly. "And there. The soot patterns near the eastern stairway—new. Within the last half-hour."

The team followed his gestures, eyes scanning carefully—and sure enough, subtle traces became apparent. Claw marks, not quite covered by dust. Scorching, almost hidden within the cracks of the stones.

Small details—but deadly ones.

"And the mist there," Astron added, voice even, "is behaving differently. Pushed outward in faint waves, as if disturbed by residual mana pressure. A living presence."

Irina's expression tightened slightly, her sharp mind already racing ahead.

"And," Astron continued quietly, "there's another reason. Your flames."

Irina blinked, confused for a half-second.

"The monster," Astron explained calmly, "is a fire-pison type. We can infer that from the lair. Same elemental nature. Monsters like that are hyper-sensitive to rival mana signatures. Your mana—your flames—would have brushed its senses the moment you cleared the last barrier."

"Meaning?" Jasmine pressed.

"Meaning," Astron said, drawing his dagger fully now, "that it knows we're here."

He turned fully toward the team, his voice leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"So it is pointless to scout, or in fact it is more dangerous to do so. So, we will just go with the standard breach pattern. Full team assault, tight formation. Disrupt its first strike before it isolates any one of us."

Irina's smirk returned—a fierce, hungry edge flashing across her features. "Finally," she muttered, flexing her fingers as a thin coil of flame slithered between them.

Sylvie drew a slow, steady breath, her gloves glowing faintly as she readied layered enchantments.

Layla slammed her shield into the ground once—clang—steadying her stance.

Jasmine twirled her dagger in a tight spiral, the faint hum of mana weaving into her next movement.

And Astron simply adjusted his grip on his weapon, his sharp purple eyes fixed on the looming cathedral gate.

"Advance on my signal," he said quietly.

The mist thickened again—reacting to the dungeon's master preparing to strike.

But Team Fourteen was ready.