Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest novel Chapter 998

[Sunday- 10:42 AM]

<Hunter Association Headquarters – Central Arcane Analysis Division, 17th Floor>

The conference chamber was buried in reinforced mana stone, shielded from outside interference and layered with tiered anti-surveillance wards. Not even sound dared echo in this room unless allowed. Screens floated in concentric rings around the central table, displaying raw data—rotating projections of dungeon gates, mana overlays, and hunter identification glyphs flickering in real-time.

Seated at the table were some of the Association's most senior analysts, guild liaisons, and arcane theorists. Overseer Ryhal presided at the head, his fingers steepled under his chin, his expression sharp but unreadable.

"We've run the tests," said Liora Sen, chief of the Analysis Division. Her voice was crisp, steady from too many sleepless hours. "In twelve gates with reported rejection incidents, we've cycled through 117 hunter permutations—mixed mana ranks, elemental affinities, bloodline variations, combat scores, resonance strength, mental compatibility, even psychological profiles."

The projection behind her shifted, collating into stacked glyph tables and comparison arrays.

"No consistent traits surfaced across any of them," she continued. "Not mana type. Not level. Not physical condition. Gender, origin, guild, mana rank—none of it mattered."

One of the analysts, a younger man from the Etheric Calibration Unit, leaned forward. "So what did matter?"

Liora tapped the center console. The projection restructured. One column remained. A single variable left untouched by all others.

Age.

The room went still.

Ryhal's eyes narrowed slightly. "Explain."

Liora didn't hesitate. "Across all twelve test gates, the only successful entrants fell into a specific demographic bracket. No one over the age of 21 has entered any of these gates. Not once. No partial entries. No delayed resonance. Full rejection."

She flicked her fingers and the screen pulled up a rotating chart—gate IDs matched with corresponding successful entries.

"Age distribution of accepted hunters ranges between 14 and 20. Most clustered between 16 and 18. The gates responded instantly—active resonance, immediate opening."

"And older hunters?" someone asked.

"Complete passivity," Liora replied. "The gates acknowledged their presence—confirmed ambient mana signatures—but refused interaction. Like it was watching them. Measuring."

A silence settled in the room again. This time heavier.

Liora gestured again, and a new dataset unfolded across the holographic panels—names of known elite hunters flashing beside diagnostic glyphs and brief mana resonance logs.

"These aren't just average guild operatives," she said. "We've tested Global-ranked hunters, and aside from them, some Stage-10, Stage-11, even a few classified projections at Stage-12. None of them got through."

"Impossible," someone muttered. "Those hunters have enough mana pressure to flatten small cities. There's no gate built to ignore that."

"They weren't ignored," Liora corrected, her tone quieter now. "They were acknowledged—and passed over. The gates identified them, but they didn't react. Like trying to insert the wrong key into a lock that doesn't even turn."

One of the analysts leaned forward, voice sharp with disbelief. "And brute force?"

"We tried," she said grimly. "Multiple force applications. High-density spellwork. Dimensional rifts. A full-on mana rupture using a tier-9 incantation from the Rimeward Division. Nothing cracked the barrier."

A second screen flickered to life, displaying footage of a cloaked man surrounded by rings of layered sigils—Stage-11 Hunter Eiro Senak. The instant his strike collided with the gate's surface, it rebounded—gently. No distortion. No absorption. No retaliation.

"Like striking fog," someone whispered.

Ryhal didn't move. freēwēbnovel.com

"So we're left with one truth," he said, voice low but firm. "The gates only open for the young."

A quiet fell across the room once more, this one colder. He let it linger for a beat, then stepped toward the center console.

"If this is confirmed," Ryhal said, looking at the gathered minds of the Association, "then the shift this triggers will be cataclysmic."

Screens around him changed again—projecting hunter demographics, academy rosters, youth population graphs, and the global map peppered with red dots: gates that had shown inert behavior.

"There are fewer than seven hundred licensed hunters under the age of 21 capable of surviving in a Rank-6 or higher gate."

His tone was mathematical. Merciless.

"Of those, maybe eighty are estimated to survive a Rank-7."

"Eighty?" a guild liaison repeated, stunned. "For the entire Human Domain?"

"That would put them directly within Association purview," the strategist said, slowly.

"It gives us precedent," Ryhal confirmed. "Legal pathways already exist. Emergency conscription clauses. Talent mobilization ordinances. Academy cadets are still considered provisional members of the Hunter Corps. We have jurisdiction if survival is at stake."

"But these students weren't trained to deploy," one of the analysts countered. "They're not ready."

"No one's ready," Ryhal said. "Not when the rules change mid-game."

He took a slow breath.

"And we're not discussing full-scale deployment. Not yet. But what we are discussing… is access. Oversight. The authority to pull who we need when these gates demand it."

A long pause stretched.

Finally, Liora broke it.

"If the gates keep selecting based on youth," she said, "then every academy becomes a vault of keys. And we'll be forced to start unlocking."

Someone near the back spoke—an older man from the Eastern Border Guilds.

"And if they refuse?"

Ryhal's eyes were cold.

"They won't."

He stepped back from the projection and let the silence speak for him. Because beneath all the logic and protocol, one truth had now sunk into every mind in the room:

The next war wouldn't be fought by armies.

It would be fought by children.

And the Association had just been handed the legal, political, and moral ammunition to take them.