Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest

Chapter 823 190.2 - No Title

Chapter 823 190.2 - No Title

'Still…..she pays more attention than I thought,' I mused, narrowing my eyes slightly. Not that it mattered in the long run. Eleanor was safe. She was someone who understood the weight of secrets and the value of silence. If there was anyone in the academy who wouldn't let a slip of knowledge become a weapon, it was her.

Even so, her move had consequences. Being placed under her direct mentorship would shift the spotlight in my direction, however subtly.

'This will bring some eyes on me,' I thought, though the corner of my lips twitched faintly at the irony. 'Not that it matters. Irina's already doing a fantastic job of that.'

The image of her flashed briefly in my mind—her amber gaze with her usual fiery hair.

'I am sure she was even happy with those pictures spreading out.'

That was so like Irina after all, and I didn't mind it. In fact, it gave me somehow another cover to use, if I utilized it cleverly.

'A boytoy….Doesn't sound good and honorable, but will be effective nonetheless.' I let out another breath, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the desk. The faint glow of my desk lamp illuminated the scattered notes and reports I'd been working on earlier, though my focus wasn't on them now. My mind was elsewhere, sorting through the implications of Eleanor's decision.

She'd called it mentorship. But what it really was—a test. A challenge. A deliberate move to push me out of my shadows and into the light.

'She's curious,' I realized, my fingers steepling as I rested my chin against them. 'She wants to see what I'm hiding.'

Not that I blamed her. If our positions were reversed, I would've done the same. Eleanor wasn't someone who overlooked potential, and she wasn't someone who ignored anomalies. And I… well, I wasn't exactly the most transparent cadet in the academy.

The question was: how far would she go to see through me?

'Curiosity,' I thought again, letting the idea roll around in my mind as I stared at the faint glow of my desk lamp. My fingers tapped lightly against the wood of the desk, a rhythm that mirrored my spiraling thoughts. Eleanor wasn't just curious for curiosity's sake—she wanted to see how far she could push me, to measure me against whatever expectations she had.

The question wasn't why she'd decided to mentor me. That was clear enough. No, the real question was: how much could I gain from this?

I leaned back in my chair, the weight of that thought settling over me. If it were before, I wouldn't have hesitated to refuse the offer outright. The idea of revealing too much, of stepping into the spotlight, went against everything I'd built. Staying in the shadows, moving unseen, had been my strategy from the start. And it worked.

I leaned back in my chair, the weight of that thought settling over me. If it were before, I wouldn't have hesitated to refuse the offer outright. The idea of revealing too much, of stepping into the spotlight, went against everything I'd built. Staying in the shadows, moving unseen, had been my strategy from the start. And it worked.

But that was before.

Before I'd tasted the rapid growth that came with real guidance. Back in the organization, it had been the same. I'd fought against it at first, convinced that my talent alone was enough. But under the right mentorship—strategic, methodical guidance—I'd grown faster than I could have imagined. Concepts that would have taken weeks, maybe even months to master on my own had become clear in days.

And Eleanor White wasn't just any mentor. She was one of the most talented Hunters in the history of the Human Domain. Her insight, her precision, her methods—these weren't things you could replicate on your own.

'If I let her push me,' I mused, my fingers stilling against the desk. 'If I let her challenge me, teach me, and refine me…'

The potential was undeniable. My talent was a weapon, sharp and lethal, but raw in places. With Eleanor's guidance, that weapon could be honed to perfection.

'It'll be risky,' I thought, my eyes narrowing slightly. 'But worth it.'

I let out a slow breath, my decision settling in my mind. 'Let's see it, then, shall we?'

Pushing myself up from the chair, I walked over to the small bookshelf by the corner of the room, pulling out one of the thick volumes I'd been studying. The weight of it felt grounding, a reminder that no matter how far I'd come, there was still more to learn.

Just as I was about to return to my desk, my smartwatch vibrated against my wrist, the soft buzz breaking the quiet. I glanced down, tapping the screen to bring up the notification.

------------------

Archery Club Notification

Meeting scheduled: Tomorrow at 14:00

All members are required to attend. Please confirm your availability.

-------------------

I raised an eyebrow as I stared at the notification on my smartwatch.

'I see… So Lilia's plot will start acting,' I mused.

But then, my eyes flicked toward the corner of the display where the date was neatly printed.

'That's earlier than it should be.'

According to the game, the Archery Club meeting that triggered this chain of events wasn't supposed to happen until the latter half of the semester. It had been a key moment—carefully timed and perfectly placed to align with the unfolding narrative. Yet, here it was, thrown forward into the semester as if someone had shuffled the pieces of the timeline without regard for where they landed.

Not that this was the first time I'd seen discrepancies. From the moment I arrived here, the game's timeline had been anything but stable. Events that should have happened weeks apart occurred side by side, while others that were meant to be monumental barely rippled the surface.

'Well, it was obvious already,' I thought, letting out a quiet breath. The unpredictability of this world had been a constant since the beginning, scattering what I knew and forcing me to adapt. And so far, I had.

Still, this particular shift made me pause.

'Selene Thornheart…' Her name surfaced in my thoughts, and my fingers drummed lightly against the edge of my desk. She was supposed to make her first appearance during this meeting—an enigmatic, razor-sharp presence that would cast a shadow over the rest of the Archery Club's arc.

'Let's see if she really shows up this time.'

After all, this plot would be important to Lilia's development.

Quite a lot.

******

The dim glow of the holographic projector illuminated Trevor's room, casting pale blue light across his sharp features. He sat rigid in his chair, his purple eyes locked onto the flickering figure before him. The hologram was of a tall man, his posture commanding, his expression stern. His presence alone filled the room with a palpable weight, a mix of authority and cold calculation.

This was Trevor's father.

The man's tailored suit fit perfectly, his broad shoulders and chiseled features making him appear more like a carved statue than a living being. His silver-streaked black hair was slicked back, his sharp, calculating eyes mirroring Trevor's but darker, colder. When he spoke, his voice was deep, deliberate, each word heavy with intent.

"The Hartley family is proving more troublesome than anticipated," his father said, his tone measured but laced with irritation. "Their alliances grow stronger, and their influence is spreading faster than we projected. But this war… this war will end soon."

Trevor nodded, though his hands were clenched tightly in his lap. "Father, what should I do?"

The hologram shifted slightly as his father adjusted his stance, his expression unwavering. "You," he said, pointing directly at Trevor, "will continue creating chaos within the academy."

Trevor hesitated for a moment, though inwardly he was smirking. "But the academy…"

His father's eyes narrowed, cutting him off. "You don't need to fear the academy," he said sharply. "Their strength is a façade, Trevor. Once we win this war—once the Hartley family is crushed and their influence eradicated—the academy will bow like everyone else. They will not be able to touch you."

Trevor swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. "Are you sure?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His father's lips curled into a slight sneer, a mixture of disdain and disappointment.

"Do you doubt me, Trevor?" he asked, his voice cold and dangerous.

Trevor immediately shook his head, his voice hurried. "No… No, Father. I don't doubt you."

"Good….Make sure that you satisfy their demands, got it?" "Yes."

As the hologram fizzled out, the faint blue light receding into darkness, Trevor sat back in his chair. The room was silent, but his mind was alive with schemes, plans, and a burning sense of satisfaction. His father's words echoed in his ears—"You don't need to fear the academy. Once we win this war, they will not be able to touch you."

A slow, deliberate smile spread across his lips. His confidence had always been a weapon, but now, with the backing he had secured, it felt more like armor—impenetrable and unyielding. He could afford to act aggressively because he wasn't acting alone anymore. This was no longer just his game; it was a much larger battlefield, and he had powerful hands guiding his moves.

Trevor's fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, a rhythmic tap that matched the cold calculation brewing in his mind. "Leverage," he muttered to himself, his smile growing sharper. "I can turn this mess into something much greater."

His gaze drifted toward the far wall of his room, where pictures hung in shadowy prominence. They weren't chaotic like the collage he'd dedicated to another. These were deliberate, framed and organized like a hunter cataloging his prey.

Two faces dominated the collection.

The first was a young woman with fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders, her amber eyes bright with determination. A face he knew all too well—Irina Emberheart. The second, in stark contrast, was that of a young man with black hair and piercing purple eyes. The very same cockroach who had somehow survived his every attempt to crush him—Astron.

Trevor's smile faltered, his jaw tightening. His teeth clenched as a flash of rage flickered in his purple eyes. "Last time, you got out of my hand," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and venomous. "But not this time."

He stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he walked toward the wall. His fingers brushed against the edge of Irina's photo. There was a softness in his expression, but it was twisted, warped by the possessiveness that burned beneath the surface.

"How dare you," he growled, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. "You already have someone in your life. That's obvious enough. And yet, you still… you still dare to look at her."

This time his gaze was on a girl with purple hair cascading down to her waist.