Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Astron gave a single, curt nod to Dakota, his gaze flicking from the glowing runes on his wrist to the exit behind her.

No parting words were exchanged. None were needed.

She understood.

With a quiet breath, he turned and left the training chamber, his boots tapping across the cold floor in steady, purposeful strides. The weight of her strike still lingered faintly on his ribs—not as pain, but as a reminder. Something to refine. Something to answer.

The corridor outside was dim and utilitarian, lined with narrow reinforcement columns and minimal lighting strips embedded into the ceiling. Astron's eyes remained fixed on his wrist-display as the encoded signal began unfolding—decrypting glyph by glyph into coordinates and clearance access.

Sector D3. Sublevel Five.

He'd never been summoned there before.

The elevators on the far side of the floor buzzed open without command, recognizing the signature embedded in Reina's seal. As Astron stepped inside, the doors slid shut with a hiss, and the descent began—smooth and silent, the kind that always felt like it was going deeper than it should.

By the time the doors opened again, the temperature had dropped.

The base's mechanical hum was replaced by stillness, punctuated only by the low thrum of mana-infused circuits pulsing through the walls. The hallway was narrow, metallic, sterile. Every surface seemed polished, untouched—like this area of the base had been built for a purpose no one was ever meant to question.

He followed the directions. No detours. No guards.

At the end of the corridor, a single reinforced door slid open with a faint click as he approached.

Inside—she stood.

Reina.

Framed by an ambient glow from the glyph-lined panels behind her, she looked exactly as she always did—composed, calm, and unreadable. That familiar tailored coat wrapped tightly at the waist, her silver hair falling in stillness around her face.

But even before she spoke, Astron felt it.

The pressure.

Not mana. Not presence.

Just… gravity—of a different kind.

The kind that came from someone who knew more than she should. Who saw further than anyone else in the room. The kind that made you question whether she was already predicting your next thought.

"Astron," Reina greeted, her tone neither warm nor cold. "You came quickly."

He stepped into the room, gaze steady. "Your message had priority clearance."

"And you knew what that meant," she said, more as confirmation than praise.

Their eyes met.

And in that moment—

—WHUM—

His mind screamed.

It happened in an instant. Reina's eyes flared—faintly, silently. But what erupted from them wasn't just mana.

It was raw information.

Unfiltered. Endless. Psion-encoded data flooding toward him like a collapsing storm.

Astron's instincts kicked in immediately.

Filter.

The flood surged through his consciousness—maps, patterns, fragmented images, unfamiliar sequences, tonal signatures, internal schematics—all crammed into a single burst. He clenched his jaw as the pressure ballooned in his temples.

Filter. Now.

He activated his [Perceptive Insight], compressing the outer threads of the incoming signal, locking down the unimportant traces, isolating patterns. The chaos narrowed. Clarity flickered.

His breath slowed.

The pain dulled into a manageable ache.

And suddenly—it wasn't overwhelming anymore.

He saw her again, across the room. Still watching. Still silent. The echo of her [Eye] still pulsing faintly in the atmosphere.

Only now, he could process it.

Reina tilted her head slightly. Just the barest trace of satisfaction in her gaze.

"Good," she said. "You reacted faster than I expected."

Astron didn't reply immediately. He flexed his hand once—feeling the slight tremor of his nerves recalibrating—and straightened his spine.

"That was deliberate," he said. "You wanted to see if I'd panic."

Reina's lips curved faintly.

"Panic is the first stage of failure. But you didn't."

She stepped forward once—light, effortless—her boots silent on the floor.

Reina stepped closer, her gaze drifting over Astron—not as a gesture of familiarity, but as a methodical scan. From the precision of his stance to the faint tremor still trailing down his left wrist, she measured everything. His breathing had already stabilized. His posture had reset to its usual disciplined default. Even the minor distortion in his right shoulder—likely a leftover effect from sparring with Dakota—was fading.

His growth was, as always, exceptional.

Not just in ability. But in adaptation.

There was no surprise in her expression anymore. Perhaps if he had been anyone else, she would have questioned the pace, the consistency. But this was Astron. And Reina had long since stopped underestimating him.

Still, she made no comment. She simply looked into his eyes—eyes sharp and focused, but layered with something else now. A depth that hadn't been there months ago.

"You met Dakota," Reina said softly.

It wasn't a question.

Astron didn't blink. "Yes."

Her eyes lingered on his shoulder for just a second longer. "The mana she leaves behind is distinct. Volatile, but elegant. It leaves a trace if you know how to look."

Astron nodded. "Since you weren't at the base when I arrived, she called me."

A beat.

Then Reina's lips pressed together, her expression flattening with a slow, deliberate squint. "Hmm… hmm…"

Astron's brow lifted just slightly. "Was that… an issue?"

Reina exhaled through her nose, arms crossing. "I see. So Dakota gets the first visit."

Her tone was dry, vaguely accusing—like a teacher pretending to mark a late assignment, knowing full well she'd never penalize it.

Astron didn't answer that.

He simply tilted his head a fraction, studying her like he would an illogical puzzle piece. Reina met his gaze without flinching. For a few seconds, they stood like that—locked in an unspoken exchange, the weight of their mutual sharpness pressing inward.

Then—

Reina smiled. Faint. Subtle. But unmistakably playful.

"I'm not actually upset," she said. "But it's fun to make you think I might be."

Astron didn't return the smile. But the shift in his eyes said he'd expected nothing less.

The moment passed.

Reina's gaze sharpened again, and her tone settled into its usual clarity.

"You were called here for what we discussed earlier," she said, stepping back and gesturing subtly to the room's far wall—where the projection field shimmered to life.

"Your assignment has been finalized. You'll be clearing the resonance-locked dungeons, as we covered during the call. The area designation will be confirmed within the next few hours, but your prep begins now."

Reina's hand moved fluidly as she swiped through layers of the projection, bringing up regional overlays and unit deployments—each tagged with field designations and active resonance metrics. One screen zoomed in on a cluster of red pulses surrounding an unclaimed dungeon nexus near the northern basin.

"Initial deployment will be team-based," she said, not looking at him. "You'll be entering with some other Adepts and Trainees pulled from compatible profiles. Low interference, balanced combat tempo. Field synergy was calculated through combat imprint records and complementary trait distribution."

She turned back to him, expression flat but firm.

"They'll meet you at the staging point tomorrow morning. Your mission is to clear and stabilize the sector."

Astron's gaze didn't shift. But there was a pause.

Then, quietly, without inflection:

"No."