Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

"Initial deployment will be team-based. 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."

Reina's head tilted.

Her eyes narrowed—not in irritation, but in curiosity, like someone analyzing an unexpected fault line across a clean blueprint.

"No?" she echoed.

Astron met her gaze. "I'll go in alone."

Silence blanketed the room for a beat, thick and exact.

Reina studied him, her fingers halting mid-gesture on the control panel.

"I assume you have a reason," she said coolly, though her voice held an edge of warning.

Astron nodded. "Two."

He stepped forward slightly, voice low but resolute.

"First—resonance flux behavior is inconsistent. Group dynamics increase ambient noise. I want to observe the dungeon's selective process without external variance."

"And second?"

"If something goes wrong," Astron said, "it's easier if I'm the only variable that breaks."

Reina said nothing.

But her silence wasn't disapproval. It was weighing. Measuring.

She stepped toward him again, folding her arms beneath the crisp lines of her coat. Her eyes—always sharp, always too perceptive—searched his, not for bluster, but for fault.

Reina's eyes remained on his, unblinking. A long moment passed before she finally exhaled, a low breath through her nose—measured, not resigned.

"I don't want you going in alone," she said, voice low and deliberate. "You'll be leading a team. That's not optional."

Astron didn't respond at first. Not because he was surprised, but because he was already choosing how best to dismantle the premise.

"You know why," Reina continued. "We don't have enough Adepts. Not young ones. Most of the cadet pool is barely cleared for sustained exposure. That's why we've paired Adepts with Trainees—controlled formation units, minimal interference, staggered roles. We need field leadership. You."

Astron's expression didn't shift.

"I understand," he said evenly. "But I'll deal with the dungeon faster if I go alone."

She raised an eyebrow.

"That's not the point—"

"I know it's not," Astron interrupted, just enough to stall her. "But if the objective is dungeon clearance, then my method is more efficient. I won't be slowed by calibration lag, misaligned tempos, or false triggers from less disciplined fighters."

Reina's jaw tightened slightly.

"And what happens if a dungeon shifts in composition mid-clearing? What if it reclassifies without warning and locks its gate behind you?"

Astron didn't blink. "Then I adapt."

A pause.

He tilted his head, just slightly.

"You already know this."

Reina's eyes narrowed further, but he pressed on before she could cut him off.

"You've seen the data. You've seen how I perform under stress. You've seen how I sync with my own flow when I'm unbound. You know it. You know the curve."

There was no arrogance in his tone. No defiance. Just truth, stated plainly.

Reina said nothing for a long second.

Then—her voice low, flat:

"No."

Astron met her gaze. "If I don't meet the quota you assign me in the first days," he said, "I'll defer. I won't refuse team deployment after that. You'll have my compliance. Unquestioned."

Reina's lips pressed into a firm line.

The logic was cold. But it was clean.

And it was his way of compromising.

Another silence stretched. This one heavier. Measured.

Reina stepped forward again until she was within arm's reach of him, her eyes hard. She searched his face one last time—beneath the quiet confidence, beneath the absolute composure—for some flicker of foolish pride or emotional recklessness.

She found none.

Just stubborn, clear-eyed certainty.

Her shoulders eased by a fraction.

"…You get two days," she said. "Not three."

Astron inclined his head once. "That's enough."

Reina exhaled sharply, the edge of a scowl curling her mouth—not because he'd won, but because he knew she would let him.

"Stubborn," she muttered.

Astron didn't deny it.

And Reina didn't expect him to.

Reina studied him for a moment longer, then shook her head with a sigh and turned back toward the projection field. Her coat flared slightly with the movement, the gesture practiced, effortless.

This kid really was something else.

An oddball, through and through.

She had known it from the beginning—from the first time she saw him dismantle a high-pressure simulation without showing the faintest sign of tension. Not cold. Not arrogant. Just… detached. Methodical. Like the world was a formula waiting to be rewritten, one piece at a time.

And yet, for all his eccentricities, he delivered.

So Reina didn't mind.

"By the way," she said over her shoulder, her tone abruptly casual. "How were your exams?"

Astron blinked once. "We've already talked about this."

"Yes," Reina replied, turning back around to face him fully. "But I'm asking you again."

There was a pause. Then: "They were decent."

"Decent," she repeated, voice flat. "That's worse than satisfactory."

Astron nodded, deadpan. "They weren't overly excessive. But my rank should rise. Modestly."

Reina stared at him for a beat.

Then she rolled her eyes.

"...Boring."

Astron, as ever, offered no rebuttal.

The silence between them stretched again,

Reina folded her arms, the faintest smirk tugging at the edge of her lips as she turned away from him. "You're lucky," she murmured, almost to herself.

Astron said nothing.

She turned her head slightly, just enough for her voice to carry. "Normally, I had another layer of tests prepared. Something a little more… rigorous."

Another pause.

"But since you're already so eager to throw yourself into live conditions, I'll spare you the preamble. You want to push yourself in the field? Fine. I won't slow you down."

She approached the console again, her fingers sweeping through the air. The room dimmed as the interface responded—his deployment timer appearing at the center of the projection.

"You'll be heading out in 14 hours. Your gate has been matched and confirmed—sector 9-Delta, western range. Mid-suppression density. No settlement risk, but high distortion probability."

Her tone remained clinical as she continued.

"If you want gear," she said, "access your smartwatch. I've lifted restrictions on requisition for your tier."

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes glinting faintly.

"Everything approved for Adept-level clearance is unlocked. Pick what you need. Return it when you're done."

Astron simply nodded.

Reina turned fully to him once more, her voice softer now, but not any less firm.

"Make sure you return after your assignment. We'll have more waiting. And… if things shift the way I expect, you won't be the only one heading in next time."

Another long pause. Then she added, almost as an afterthought:

"Dismissed."