Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chapter 941 - 216.1 - Overachievers

Maya's vision was dark.

She floated somewhere just beyond reach of her own body, her thoughts sluggish, like trying to move through thick water. Time felt distant. Her senses, dulled. No sound, no sight—only fragments.

A breath.

A heartbeat.

A warmth.

Then—

A jolt.

Her mind snapped back like a rubber band stretched too far.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering open. The room came back into focus in pieces—the soft golden glow of the dorm lights, the tea set still resting on the table, and the firm, steady warmth that surrounded her.

And then she realized—

She was in his arms.

Astron.

His arms were wrapped around her, one hand lightly pressed between her shoulder blades, the other steady at her waist. His touch wasn't forceful or invasive. Just steady. Grounding.

Maya froze.

Her body stiffened instantly, breath catching in her throat as her senses caught up to the moment.

What—

Her face burned. Heat flushed into her cheeks so fast it made her dizzy.

She blinked rapidly, trying to pull herself out of the haze. She couldn't remember what had just happened. Not clearly.

There had been… hunger.

That pull. That voice.

And then—nothing.

She'd gone under, as if her mind had simply slipped into sleep. Not unconscious, but silent.

And now—

Now she was here. In his arms.

"Astron," she said, her voice low and hoarse, barely above a whisper.

His grip loosened slightly, but he didn't let go.

"You're back," he said, voice calm as ever, though there was something softer there. Almost relieved.

Maya didn't answer. She couldn't.

Because her body felt strange. Not weak—but sated.

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There was no longer that clawing hunger gnawing at her insides. No pressure behind her eyes. No dryness in her throat.

She felt…

Full.

The silence pressed against her chest like a weight. And then, in a single motion, Maya pulled herself out of his embrace, stepping back so fast she nearly stumbled.

Her hands hovered mid-air for a moment, unsure where to go, before clenching tightly by her sides. The space between them suddenly felt too wide and not wide enough.

She couldn't look at him. Not yet.

"Did anything happen?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Astron watched her for a second—long enough that it made her skin crawl with uncertainty—but then, he gave a small shake of his head.

"No. Nothing happened."

Relief washed through her like a tide. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, her shoulders sagging just slightly as her heart began to slow.

"That's… good," she murmured.

Her mind still felt foggy, like remnants of a dream clung to her thoughts. But her other self—so loud, so ever-present—was silent now. As if she had slipped into slumber, satisfied.

And with that silence came something Maya hadn't had in a while.

Room to breathe.

Room to think.

Astron stood slowly, brushing invisible creases from his uniform with that same deliberate calm he always carried.

"Did you need anything else?" he asked.

Maya looked at him, really looked. The way the dim light cast shadows across his face, the subtle tension in his frame that he tried to hide.

She almost said something. Almost.

But instead, she shook her head.

"No… I don't."

He nodded. "Is that so?"

She gave a short nod in return.

Astron turned toward the door, his movements measured and unhurried.

"Then I'll be leaving."

A closing door.

And Maya, standing alone, in a dormitory that suddenly felt too quiet.

Maya stood in the silence, unmoving, her heartbeat still slowly settling. Her gaze lingered on the empty space Astron had occupied just moments ago. The warmth of his presence still clung faintly to the room, like a fading ember.

But it was gone now.

And all that was left was her.

And the silence.

She exhaled through her nose, turned on her heel, and walked to the small desk near her bed. Her communicator sat there, still faintly glowing with a soft notification pulse.

A message.

She picked it up and tapped the screen, scanning the sender.

[From: Alden]

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the name. Her brother didn't message often—not unless he had something important to say.

Opening it, she quickly skimmed through the text.

"I've compiled several techniques. Some of them come from older grimoires—structured mental formations, focus channels, pressure locks. They're not combat efficient, but they should help you regulate 'her' more cleanly."

"Start with the layered visualization. It's tedious, but once you establish the framework, it should reinforce your inner walls."

"And Maya… Don't force it. You're not trying to kill her. You're trying to reclaim yourself."

Maya stared at the last line, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the communicator.

You're not trying to kill her.

You're trying to reclaim yourself.

She placed the device down with deliberate care, then turned to the center of her room.

The hunger had faded for now. Her other self was quiet. But that calm would not last—not unless she did something.

She moved with practiced fluidity, clearing a small area on the floor. Her knees lowered into the familiar lotus position, her palms resting gently atop her thighs, fingers relaxed.

Her breathing slowed.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Let go.

Her thoughts were scattered at first—flashes of Astron's hand, her own trembling, the warmth of his embrace, the shame, the hunger, her brother's words.

But one by one, she pushed them aside.

Her mind turned inward, toward the boundaries of her consciousness. The walls of her mental space were fragile in places, too thin in others.

And in the distance, in the deep corner of herself—

She felt it.

The presence.

Sleeping.

Coiled.

Waiting.

But for now, it was at peace.

And that was all she needed.

Not victory.

Just a moment to breathe.

To reclaim herself.

And she began.

******

The classroom was as sharp and structured as its instructor—rows of desks arranged with military precision, chalkboard notes erased to the last mark, and the faint scent of iron in the air, as if even the walls remembered battle.

Professor Kain stood at the front of the class with his arms crossed, the ever-serious expression on his face casting a natural silence over the room. His crimson coat hung stiffly from his shoulders, and his sharp eyes swept over the cadets like a man ready to drill the next order into stone.

"Today," he began, his voice cutting clean through the idle rustle of pages and whispers, "we're moving on to a different formation."

The students straightened instinctively, their bodies reacting before their minds fully caught up.

Kain turned toward the board, where he flicked his fingers across the embedded mana glyph, causing a floating diagram to emerge in the air. A rotating, six-person formation, with highlighted roles marked in pale blue and red.

"This is the Tri-Layer Pressure Formation. Unlike the previous rotation-based structure we discussed last week, this one focuses on staggered lines and split-point pressure. It's designed for mixed-unit deployment, emphasizing rotation and role-shifting mid-combat."

The class murmured quietly in intrigue, the complexity of the pattern drawing their attention.

"As usual, we'll break this down into positioning, role variance, and decision triggers," Kain continued. "Pay attention. Next week's practical dungeon lesson will implement this formation in live conditions."

That announcement caught everyone's attention immediately.

Even Julia, who had been leaning back in her seat with that classic "don't care" expression, sat up slightly.

"Wait—another dungeon next week?" Jasmine asked aloud, blinking.

Kain nodded. "Yes. You will be re-formed into six-person units. The dungeon has already been selected and will be revealed on the day. Prepare accordingly."

Lucas groaned under his breath. "Every time he says that, it turns out worse than expected."

Irina didn't look away from the diagram, her voice dry. "Then expect the worst."

Julia leaned forward slightly, lips curving into a sly grin. "Hey, Professor Kain. Just to check—does that mean we'll need to do a report afterward?"

Kain turned his head just enough to glance at her.

"Yes."

"Ugh. Nooo…!" Julia slumped forward onto her desk. "Can we just suffer in the dungeon and call that educational enough?"

"No," Kain replied, without pause or sympathy. "You suffer, then write about it."

Several students snorted with laughter, even as the collective groan spread across the room.

"Same format as last time," he added. "Combat flow, decision-making, strengths, weaknesses—include tactical insight this time. I'm expecting more than just summaries of 'it was hard.'"

Ethan sighed and rubbed his forehead. "We're going to need to block off a full day just for writing again, aren't we?"

Sylvie glanced at her notes. "Might be worth organizing sections in advance. We already know Kain's expectations."

"Overachievers," Julia muttered under her breath, half-impressed, half-annoyed.

As Kain continued to break down the formation into component strategies, the atmosphere of the classroom remained focused.

****

Eventually, the glyph diagram faded from the air, and Kain stepped away from the board.

"That's all for today," he said, voice clipped. "Groups for the dungeon practical will be posted two days before deployment. Use your remaining time this week to prepare, coordinate, and understand this formation."

He paused, then added flatly, "Dismissed."

The chairs creaked and bags rustled as students stood up, stretching and chatting among themselves.

Though the initial days following the suspension of club activities had been tense, bordering on outright mutinous, something strange had begun to settle over the academy.

Adaptation.

Without clubs to retreat to, students had begun forming study circles more openly, or spending time reviewing tactics, sparring, or working on solo training. Even casual conversations had slowly returned.

The atmosphere, while not as free as it once was, had shifted from agitated unrest to a more disciplined rhythm.

"Guess we're back to dungeon hell," Lucas muttered as he packed his things.

"Better than sitting in silence staring at a wall," Irina replied.

"Depends on the wall," Julia added with a grin. "I've seen some pretty inspiring ones."

Astron, who had already stood and was calmly reviewing the formation diagram on his tablet, simply offered, "Be prepared. This next dungeon won't be like the last."

Everyone knew he was right.

And no matter what was waiting in the depths—report or not—they would face it.

As hunters-in-training always did.