Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chapter 981 - 228.1 - Thoughts

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.

Perfect.

"…Its eyes," someone else muttered. Julia, two rows up, flipping her pen between her fingers. She didn’t look back. "The weakness is the eyes."

"Correct," Varn said, with only a faint tilt of the head. He looked back to Ethan. "Try to remain grounded, Mr. Hartley. Daydreams don’t kill beasts. Focus does."

Ethan nodded once, sharply. "Yes, Professor."

The lesson resumed.

But Ethan… didn’t.

His hand returned to his chin. His eyes returned to the glyph diagrams.

And his thoughts returned to the truth he didn’t want to admit.

I thought I was getting stronger.

But if that’s what strength really looks like…

Then maybe he was still at the foot of the mountain.

The thought echoed as the minutes dragged on, each word from Professor Varn flowing around Ethan without landing. Diagrams flickered. Glyphs expanded and collapsed across the air. His tablet auto-saved a half-blank page of notes. He didn’t even notice. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

And then—

Briiiiing.

The bell chimed. The glyph-screens dimmed one by one.

Chairs scraped back, a few students stretched and groaned in exaggerated relief, while others grabbed their tablets and slipped out quickly, voices rising with the first taste of freedom in hours.

Ethan sat still for a second longer, watching the notes flicker off the main display. Then, quietly, he stood.

"Ugh, finally," one cadet muttered behind him, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "That lecture felt like it lasted a year."

Another groaned, "Yeah, and now we have mentorship? Right before midterms?"

"Seriously, what kind of sadist scheduled this? We’re gonna be dead by exam day."

Lilia passed them with the faintest smile. "You’re Hunters. Try not to cry in public."

Julia snorted as she slid her tablet into her bag. "She’s right, though. Midterms and Eleanor? If I live through this week, someone better throw me a parade."

Irina, who’d sat silently throughout the lecture, rose and gave a slow stretch. "Parade won’t save your legs when Eleanor starts the agility drills."

"You say that like you’re not going to smoke the rest of us," Julia muttered. "At least pretend to struggle for morale."

A few chuckles followed that, some tension easing from the room as cadets filtered out in pairs and clusters.

Ethan should’ve joined them.

Should’ve made a joke, should’ve exchanged a grin.

But instead, he moved past the rows with quiet purpose, his steps leading him not toward the exit—

—but toward a desk two rows over.

Astron sat there, still in his seat, his tablet closed neatly before him. He hadn’t moved when the bell rang. He rarely did. The other students had long since learned not to wait for him.

Ethan came to a stop just beside the desk and spoke with a tone that wasn’t loud, but not entirely casual either.

"Astron."

The violet-eyed cadet lifted his gaze slowly, as if he’d known Ethan would come, but saw no need to acknowledge it early.

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, then lowered his voice. "You going to the mentorship session?"

Astron blinked once, then offered the faintest nod. "As assigned."

His gaze flicked over Ethan—not judgmental, but not gentle either. Just observant.

"Let’s go then."

Astron’s eyes lingered on Ethan for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he gave a small nod and rose from his seat.

His movements, as always, were precise—no wasted motion, no fumbling with his gear or glancing at his tablet for confirmation. He simply stood, adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, and stepped around the desk, falling into step beside Ethan as they left the lecture hall.

The hallway outside was brighter than the classroom, afternoon light spilling through the tall windows and casting gold across the floor. A breeze passed through from the upper vents, carrying with it the faint scent of steel and ozone from the training fields beyond the academy.

The murmurs of other students drifted in from the main hall—groups gathering before dispersing toward their assigned tracks. But Ethan and Astron didn’t slow. Their path was already set.

Only the two of them trained under Eleanor.

The thought lingered in Ethan’s mind as they made their way down the polished corridor, each footstep echoing softly.

They turned left past the courtyard—a shortcut only used by those who didn’t need directions anymore—and for a while, silence stretched comfortably between them.

But Ethan’s thoughts didn’t stay silent.

Eventually, he spoke.

"…What do you think separates someone like Victor from the rest of us?"