Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

The sound of their heavy, rhythmic footsteps filled the massive training hall, but by now, Ethan could barely hear it over the pounding of his own heartbeat. Every breath felt like dragging air through soaked cloth, his muscles were burning, and even though his body had long since adapted to brutal conditioning, this was something else entirely.

Finally, mercifully, the timer hit zero.

The artificial gravity pressure lifted, and in an instant, Ethan felt like he had just been released from an invisible cage.

"Oh, thank the gods—" he groaned before collapsing onto his back, arms sprawled out as he sucked in gulps of air. He didn't even care that he was lying flat on the training hall floor. "Two hours… that was two hours? Felt like ten."

Beside him, Astron, while far more composed, immediately moved toward the nearby water dispenser. He didn't say a word, just grabbed the bottle waiting for him, cracked it open, and drank in slow, controlled gulps. His posture remained mostly upright, but his breathing was heavier than usual—small signs of exhaustion he couldn't completely hide.

Eleanor, standing near the control panel, observed them with her usual unreadable expression. Her arms were crossed, her golden eyes sharp but satisfied.

"You'll keep doing this until I'm satisfied," she stated coolly, making it very clear that this was not a one-time ordeal. "But it shouldn't take too long."

Ethan let out a weak chuckle, still lying on the ground. "You say that, but somehow I don't believe you."

Eleanor ignored him, checking her tablet once before turning on her heel. "That's all for today. Rest up, recover, and be ready for the next session."

With that, she exited the training hall, leaving the two of them alone.

For a while, there was only silence.

Ethan, still sprawled out on the ground, tilted his head slightly to look at Astron, who was standing nearby, finishing the last of his water. His expression remained as composed as ever, but there was no denying that he was drained.

Ethan smirked. "So…" He exhaled, letting his limbs go completely slack. "How was it?"

Astron lowered the water bottle, glancing at him with a neutral expression. "How was what?"

Ethan let out a tired chuckle, still staring up at the ceiling. "I mean training, obviously."

Astron, who had finished his water, merely gave a short, matter-of-fact reply. "It was helpful."

Ethan groaned, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with his hand. "Damn, man, you give the bare minimum when it comes to answers."

Astron remained unfazed. "Training under Professor Eleanor's pressure isn't something that can be easily replicated."

That actually made Ethan pause. He blinked, then furrowed his brow. "Hmm?" He pushed himself up slightly. "What do you mean by that?"

Astron set his empty water bottle aside, leaning forward slightly as he rested his forearms on his knees. His gaze remained steady, his exhaustion well-hidden beneath his usual composure.

"Out of all people, you should understand that best," Astron said. "There's a reason why even you—someone who has spent their entire life around high-ranked Hunters—struggled under her pressure."

Ethan frowned slightly, listening.

"Your father. Your aunt. Your brother," Astron continued, his voice calm but deliberate. "They're all strong. But their strength is different from hers."

Ethan let out a slow breath, processing that. "I see… That's why."

He leaned back on his hands, looking toward the door Eleanor had exited from. It made sense. He had been around powerful people his whole life. He had trained under them, fought against them, learned from them. But Eleanor's pressure was something else entirely.

She wasn't just strong—she carried a kind of presence that made even the air around her feel heavier, a weight that demanded endurance and precision. And it wasn't just raw power—it was refined. Deliberate. Unrelenting.

Ethan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Yeah… makes sense why she's such a nightmare to train under."

Astron simply nodded. "It's not a type of pressure you adapt to easily."

Ethan glanced at him. "You're holding up pretty well."

Astron didn't respond immediately, then finally said, "I've had to learn how to adjust quickly."

Ethan's gaze lingered on Astron for a moment, his curiosity piqued. There was something in the way he had said that—calm, matter-of-fact, but carrying an underlying weight that Ethan couldn't ignore.

He wasn't usually one to pry too much, but something about Astron always made him want to push just a little further.

Leaning forward, Ethan rested his arms on his knees, tilting his head slightly. "Learn to adjust, huh?" he echoed. "That sounds like the kind of thing when you have learned it young."

Astron didn't react immediately. His posture remained steady, composed as ever, but Ethan could see the subtle shift in his body language—the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers lightly tapped against his knee.

Ethan smirked. "You gonna leave me hanging, or…?"

Astron exhaled through his nose, as if debating whether or not to entertain Ethan's curiosity. Eventually, he spoke, his voice as even as ever.

"There's not much to say."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "See, when people say that, it usually means there's a lot to say."

Astron didn't respond.

Ethan sighed, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Let's try a different angle." He stretched his legs out in front of him, tapping his fingers against his thigh. "You said I should understand this better than anyone, right? Because of the people I've been around."

Astron nodded slightly.

Ethan tilted his head. "So what about you? You….you were…."

"Were what?"

Ethan hesitated for a moment, the words catching in his throat. He had been about to say family—but then he remembered.

Astron didn't have one.

At least, not in the way Ethan did.

So instead, he adjusted. "You… weren't around many high-ranking Hunters, right?"

Astron shook his head. "No. But a Hunter did teach me a lot."

Ethan's curiosity flared instantly. "A Hunter?" he echoed, leaning forward slightly. "Who—?"

But before he could finish, Astron was already moving.

The guy stood up in one fluid motion, picking up his empty water bottle as if the conversation had already ended in his mind.

Ethan frowned. "Oh, come on. You're gonna leave right now?"

Astron slung his bag over his shoulder, his tone as flat as ever. "I have things I need to do."

Ethan scoffed, still sitting on the floor. "Like what?"

Astron didn't even hesitate. "Training."

Ethan groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "You training maniac! We just finished a brutal session under Eleanor, and you're still gonna go train?"

Astron was already walking toward the exit. "Yes."

Ethan sighed heavily, then smirked. "At least answer my damn question before you go."

"No."

Ethan let out an exaggerated groan, flopping onto his back. "You suck at conversations."

"…."

Ethan blinked.

Then, suddenly, he laughed—really laughed.

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"This will be all for today."

The heavy wooden doors of the classroom swung open, and the bustling chatter of cadets filled the hallways. The first session with their mentors had concluded, and excitement and curiosity rippled through the air like an invisible current.

Maya stepped out of the room with practiced composure, her hands loosely clasped behind her back. Her gaze remained calm and unreadable, but inwardly, her mind was still processing the session.

Amelia Lake.

It wasn't surprising that Amelia had been chosen as the primary mentor for mages. She was a renowned sorceress, a prodigy of elemental magic, and her reputation alone had attracted nearly all the mage cadets to her guidance. Even Maya, with her usual high standards, had to acknowledge that Amelia's insight was valuable.

But that didn't mean she was satisfied.

Maya's gaze drifted to the side, her sharp eyes effortlessly picking up on the presence of two familiar figures amidst the sea of cadets.

Irina Emberheart.

Her fiery red hair stood out even in the crowded hallway, its vibrant hue reflecting the light as she spoke animatedly to the girl beside her. Confidence radiated from her posture, the way she stood effortlessly commanding attention.

And then, there was Seraphina Frostborne.

The silver-haired mage was quieter, her cold, calculating gaze scanning the crowd with the sharpness of a blade. Unlike Irina, whose presence was like fire—blazing, consuming—Seraphina was ice. Calm, composed, yet no less dangerous.

Maya didn't need to be reminded of their reputations.

Second and third.

Irina Emberheart, the combat mage who had made a name for herself through sheer talent and unshakable will. Seraphina Frostborne, the strategic prodigy whose precision in battle was nearly unmatched.

And her?

Maya Evergreen. First rank of sophomore cadets.

But right now, she wasn't feeling particularly victorious.

"That is the girl you need to bring down."