Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Ethan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "No, not mad," he muttered, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

Julia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? No sarcastic comeback? No dramatic sigh of despair? You feeling okay, Mountain Boy?"

Ethan let out a soft chuckle, finally unfolding his arms. "I mean, yeah, it sucks. But if the academy is cracking down this hard, it means they're taking things seriously. And that's… not exactly a bad thing."

Lucas glanced at him, tilting his head. "You're actually fine with this?"

Ethan pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders. "Fine? Not really. But think about it—if clubs are out, then they're gonna push us harder in training instead. No more distractions, no more splitting focus between clubs and coursework." He crossed his arms again, this time with a slight smirk. "I wouldn't be surprised if they ramp up combat drills. Hell, maybe they'll even throw in a field training exercise."

Carl hummed in thought, nodding. "That actually makes sense. They need to keep us engaged, and without club activities, they're probably going to enforce more hands-on training."

Irina's gaze flickered with interest. "A field exercise wouldn't be a bad idea," she mused. "If they're serious about making us stronger, then they won't let us sit idle."

"True," Lilia added, though she groaned dramatically. "But that means more early morning drills, more evaluations, more ways for Eleanor to terrify us…"

Julia snorted. "Please. You thrive under pressure."

Lilia wiggled her fingers in mock horror. "Not that kind of pressure."

Ethan's smirk didn't fade. The disappointment of losing the tournament was still there, but something about the shift in academy policies left him… satisfied. If this was the academy's way of taking back control, then fine. It just meant they were stepping into a new phase.

One where things would be tougher. More grueling.

And if that was the case?

Then good.

Because Ethan was more than ready.

****

The sophomore classroom was already buzzing with agitation when Maya stepped inside. Conversations were heated, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as cadets vented to one another about the newly enacted restrictions.

She had expected this.

The tension between the years had been rising for weeks, but now, with the academy's heavy-handed response, it was suffocating.

And she wasn't happy about it either.

Her expression remained composed as she took her seat, but inwardly, irritation curled beneath her skin like smoldering embers.

This was going to be a waste of time.

The professor entered, and the noise only grew louder.

"Alright," the instructor called out, setting a tablet down on the podium. "Settle down."

The class did not settle down.

"Professor, is this for real?!" one of the cadets near the front demanded, gripping the edge of his desk.

"Shutting down clubs is ridiculous," another snapped.

"You're treating us like criminals! We weren't the ones starting fights—"

"Then why are we the ones being punished?!"

Maya exhaled slowly through her nose as the protests swelled.

She wasn't going to argue on principle like the others, but she was irritated.

Because this meant that the History and Arts Club—the one place where she had a guaranteed, uninterrupted space with him—was gone.

The professor didn't raise his voice, but his next words cut through the chaos with sharp authority.

"Quiet."

The students grudgingly lowered their voices, but the tension still lingered, thick and oppressive.

Maya crossed her arms, her fingers tapping lightly against her sleeve as she listened.

"The new regulations are not open for negotiation," the professor said. "These decisions were made by the headmaster himself. If you have complaints, you can file an official appeal. But I warn you now—it won't change anything."

A murmur of discontent swept through the class.

Maya's lips pressed into a thin line.

"What a joke."

The voice in her head slithered into her thoughts, laced with contempt.

"They're acting like this is some strategic decision, but it's not. It's desperation. They don't know how to control the chaos, so they're tightening the leash on everyone."

Maya's nails lightly scraped against her sleeve.

She agreed.

Even without her other self voicing it, she had already come to that conclusion.

But that didn't change the reality of the situation.

She wouldn't be able to meet with Astron freely anymore.

And given how the divide between first-years and sophomores had escalated, approaching him outside of regulated areas would be difficult.

It was frustrating.

"What are you going to do about it?" her other self whispered, voice smooth but taunting. "Sit here like the rest of them and accept it?"

Maya remained silent.

But her fingers curled slightly into her sleeves.

The professor continued, oblivious to her thoughts. "Surveillance is being expanded across all dormitories and common areas. Group gatherings will be restricted to monitored locations. Any altercations between cadets will result in immediate disciplinary action."

Maya's jaw tightened.

"Tch."

A sharp noise of distaste echoed in her mind.

"They're boxing you in."

She knew.

"So much for 'control.' Now you'll be monitored like a caged animal. How does it feel?"

Maya exhaled sharply through her nose.

"You're awfully chatty today," she murmured internally.

"I don't like being restrained." A pause. Then, softer—more venomous. "And I don't like being kept away from him."

Maya exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the classroom, the murmured complaints of her classmates barely registering in her ears.

"I don't like being restrained."

Her other self's voice had softened, but there was something simmering beneath it—something deeper, more unsettling.

And yet, Maya wasn't repelled by it anymore.

Recently, they had been… understanding each other more.

She still disagreed with her, still fought for control when needed, but there was no longer that suffocating resistance that made her feel like she was drowning in a battle against herself.

It was different now.

The edges of their thoughts had started to blend.

Sometimes, Maya wasn't even sure who was responding first.

And that—that brought her to a different question.

Did I really like him, or was it because of her?

The thought struck her as she stared at the screen of her tablet, her fingers still curled into her sleeves.

Astron.

Whenever he crossed her mind, it was always with an intensity that felt unlike anything else in her life. The weight of his presence, the way his gaze lingered—how it both infuriated her and made her crave more.

Was that her?

Or was that her other self?

Maya's jaw clenched slightly.

The emotions she felt toward him—were they hers alone?

Or was she simply following the pull of something deeper, something not entirely her own?

"You're overthinking again," her other self murmured.

Maya didn't respond, but she could feel the knowing smirk in the back of her mind.

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

Maya shut her eyes for a brief second. "It should."

A soft laugh, dark and indulgent. "Then tell me—does it feel any different?"

Maya hesitated.

Did it?

Her fingers flexed.

Whether it was her feelings or her other self's…

In the end, the weight in her chest remained the same.

The same pull. The same unbearable need to see him, to be near him.

To confirm something—whether it was her own emotions or something else entirely.

But more than anything—

Her gaze flickered downward, then up again.

The redness in her vision was acting up.

Her irises pulsed faintly with that crimson hue, fading in and out as her thoughts spiraled.

Her breath shallowed.

Her other self sighed, "We need to see him soon."

Maya swallowed. "I know."

Because if this kept up…

If this hunger continued to coil inside her, pressing against the edges of her control—

She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold it back.