Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

"Stop."

Dakota stood in the silence for a breath longer than necessary, her palm still raised.

Then—

She smiled.

A real one. Not the teasing curl of lips she often wore during spars, but something sharp and satisfied.

"Really good."

Her voice carried across the chamber, calm yet edged with genuine praise.

"You've integrated [Tempest Fang] into your foundation. It's not just something you use anymore—it's something you are."

Her gaze sharpened.

"And it shows."

Astron lowered his hands slightly, his breath steady, but his eyes didn't drop from hers.

He knew better.

Dakota exhaled—and vanished.

—WHOOSH—THUMP!

She appeared before him in a blur of force, like a bullet tearing through still air—her fist already cocked, her knee rising like a hammer fired from the ground.

It was a textbook sneak attack—perfect timing, silent execution, movement concealed in the lull.

But Astron moved.

—CLANG!

His palm caught her wrist mid-strike, elbow tucked in, balance adjusted on instinct.

Dakota's eyes widened just a hair.

"Heh…"

A low snort escaped her, half amusement, half acknowledgment.

But her grin deepened.

"Good reflexes. But let me show you something different."

She shifted.

Astron felt it instantly—not just in the mana flow, but in her intent.

Her hips angled wider. Her feet staggered. Her spine bowed with deliberate curvature, like a spring bending—tense, coiled. It was not [Storm]. Not [Gale]. Not [Cyclone].

This was something else.

Astron's eyes narrowed. "That's not Tempest Fang…"

Dakota's voice dropped low, almost fond.

"[Tempest Fang] is a good foundation. Fast. Explosive. Overwhelming."

"But it's not my only technique."

And then she moved.

—SHUNK—THRUM—BOOM!!

Her movements were different—not blinding fast like before, but slippery—her shoulders loose, her hips pivoting in strange angles, elbows folding unnaturally close before whipping out in arcs that seemed impossible to track.

Astron caught the first one—

—THUD! A palm strike to his shoulder.

He adjusted—[Cyclone] responding, sweeping leg ready to intercept—

But her body flowed around his guard.

—CRACK!

Her knuckle drilled into his rib from a low angle—too low for a punch, too sharp for a knee. Something hybrid. Something... snake-like.

Astron's body reeled, and before he could readjust—

—BAM!

Her foot landed against his sternum in a rising crescent, sending him crashing backward.

—SKRRRK!

His boots dug furrows into the obsidian floor as he skidded to a stop.

He coughed once.

His stance held, barely.

Dakota rolled her wrist, stepping forward—her frame relaxed, almost lazy.

"I call this one [Serpent Echo]."

She flicked her fingers; the air shimmered faintly as her mana followed strange, undulating pulses—less storm, more flow.

"It doesn't rely on raw bursts. It's about misdirection, angles, and retraction. The first hit softens. The second misleads. The third breaks through."

Astron wiped a smear of blood from his lip.

"I noticed," he said hoarsely.

Dakota smiled, eyes gleaming. "Still limiting my strength, of course. But technique? That's fair game."

She slid back into the stance again—low, smooth, impossible to read.

Dakota's stance flowed like ink across water—subtle, unreadable. Her eyes gleamed beneath the training hall's sterile lights, not with superiority, but with something fiercer.

Challenge.

Then—she smiled.

A wide, unguarded grin that bared no pretense.

—BOOM!

She launched again—sliding forward on a ripple of mana, her frame low and serpentine, moving like muscle coiled around bone, tension made liquid.

As she moved, her voice rang clear, half carried on the wind of her momentum:

"You know…" —WHOOSH! —her elbow flicked at his jawline; Astron tilted back— "the last few months, I've been thinking."

—THUMP—SLIP!

She ducked under his counter, legs sweeping into a cartwheel that twisted into a feint.

"I started reflecting on myself." —CRACK! Her palm grazed Astron's shoulder as he barely slid aside.

"And it's thanks to you."

Astron pivoted sharply, slipping into [Gale] on instinct, his breathing steady but wary.

Dakota's foot pressed into the floor again—heel turning ever so slightly. She wasn't done.

—WHOOM—ZIP—

She came in again, but this time slower, talking between bursts of motion. Teaching even while attacking.

"Watching you train. Watching you adapt."

Her voice dropped as she ducked under his block and sent a flicking knuckle into his ribs again.

—THUD!

He winced— again that weird angle. Too awkward to block cleanly. His arm barely deflected the second blow.

"It bothered me."

Dakota stepped back just a few feet, circling like a predator who was no longer hunting prey—but a rival.

"I thought I had plateaued. That I'd already walked most of the road."

She spun once—smooth, graceful—and landed in her strange [Serpent Echo] stance again.

"But then you showed up."

Astron straightened, breathing heavier now. "So it was because of me?"

Dakota met his gaze—direct, piercing. "Yeah."

She exhaled, the air around her trembling slightly with the subtle ripples of mana flowing under her skin.

"Watching you pick things up in days that took me years… it annoyed the hell out of me."

Her smirk softened for just a moment.

"Jealousy," she admitted.

Astron blinked, the answer unexpected. "…Jealousy?"

She shrugged, as if it wasn't even worth denying.

"It can be." She stepped forward—each step carrying weight, not of aggression, but conviction. "So what if it is?"

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the hum of the stabilizing sigils still glowing faintly along the walls.

Dakota flexed her hand once, then settled again into [Serpent Echo], the coiling tension of a beast that had just remembered it could still hunt new prey.

"Sometimes," she said, "you need someone to remind you that you're not done growing."

"And you did."

Then she dashed forward again—faster this time, the smile still lingering at the edge of her lips.

—BOOM—WHUMP—CRACK!

Dakota blurred again—her form a coil of fluid motion unleashed. Her footwork was quieter this time, yet heavier, like rain falling in reverse—each step pressing down on Astron's senses.

Astron dropped into [Cyclone Stance], ready to intercept.

But something was off.

Her movement had changed again—[Serpent Echo] was still there, but the rhythm had shifted. It wasn't just misdirection or angular retraction now. There was a pulse behind it. A beat that didn't match her previous tempo.

—WHOOSH—ZRAKK!

Her arm twisted unnaturally, bypassing Astron's shoulder block by folding inward and snapping back out.

He parried—barely.

But it wasn't the real strike.

—THUUUUM!!

Dakota's palm landed flat against his sternum.

The air imploded inward.

For half a second, it was silent—before the shockwave fired outward.

—KA-BOOOM!!!

Astron's body blasted backward like a missile—his back slamming into the obsidian floor as cracks webbed out from the impact.

—KRAK—SKRRRCHH!!

His body bounced once—then stopped.

A faint mist of red sprayed from his mouth as he lay flat, eyes wide, breath stuck.

The blow hadn't broken anything, but it had hit deeper than expected—through armor, through stance, through will. Like something had reverberated through him at the core.

Dakota stood across the arena, exhaling through her nose. Her hand lowered.

"That," she said calmly, "was new."