Chapter 864 - Between
The gym at Arcadia Hunter Academy was a sprawling space, filled with various equipment designed for the physical training of the Awakened students. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the hum of machinery as students went through their exercises, pushing their bodies beyond the limits of ordinary humans. It was a far cry from the quiet comfort of the library, but Jane had long since accepted that this was a necessary part of her training.
She stood in front of one of the high-tech machines that tracked speed and strength, her breath steady as she prepared for her next challenge. Her body had grown accustomed to the rigorous demands of being an Awakened—superhuman strength, enhanced agility, and heightened reflexes that could make even the most skilled athletes seem slow in comparison. But Jane knew that being an Awakened wasn't just about raw power; it was about control.
Her wavy brown hair was tied back in a tight ponytail to keep it out of her face as she adjusted her stance. She was wearing the academy's standard training attire—a form-fitting black suit designed for flexibility and durability. The fabric clung to her toned frame, highlighting the strength she'd built over the past months, even though she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge it.
Today, she had chosen to focus on her speed. The sleek machine before her measured her agility and the precision of her movements, something she'd been practicing over the past few days. She wasn't as fast as the most advanced students, but she was improving.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. She activated the machine with a single swipe of her wrist, and the countdown began.
"Three... two... one..." The machine beeped, and Jane shot forward, her body moving in a blur of motion. Her legs powered her forward with the strength of an Awakened, her reflexes reacting faster than most could see. As she maneuvered through the obstacles—dodging, weaving, and sprinting—her mind focused purely on the movements, on keeping control. Her heart rate was steady, her body responding with fluid precision. Each step felt like a graceful dance, her body defying the limits of normal human movement.
She reached the end of the course, her chest rising and falling as she slowed to a stop, a small bead of sweat trickling down her neck. Her breath was even, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she glanced at the digital screen.
"Not bad," she muttered to herself, eyes scanning the results. She had improved since her last test, her speed slightly faster and her accuracy sharper. It was far from perfect, but it was progress.
She wiped the sweat from her brow, feeling a sense of accomplishment, but there was no time to bask in it. She knew she had to keep pushing herself if she ever hoped to truly master her abilities. The world outside the academy was filled with dangers that even Awakened students like her needed to be prepared for.
Turning, Jane saw a group of other students training in the distance—some practicing their strength, others refining their combat techniques. It was a reminder of how much further she had to go, but it also gave her a sense of camaraderie. Everyone here had their struggles, their weaknesses, but they also had the potential to be stronger.
As she stepped off the training area and grabbed a towel to wipe her face, she couldn't help but think about Ethan. She had told him she'd be in the gym today, and
Jane exhaled, stretching her arms as she felt the lingering burn of exertion in her muscles. Training was exhausting, but it was necessary. She had promised herself that she would keep pushing, keep getting stronger—because in this academy, strength was everything. However, as much as physical prowess mattered, knowledge was just as important, which was why she was now heading to the library.
She glanced at the time on her smartwatch. Ethan's schedule was different from hers, given that he was a freshman and she was a sophomore. They had fewer opportunities to meet during the day, which made the moments they spent together all the more meaningful.
Ethan...
The thought of him sent a warmth through her chest. He had already started making a name for himself in the academy, his talent undeniable. People had begun talking about him—his rapid improvement, his strength, his adaptability. Even among the Awakened, he was standing out.
And yet, despite all the attention he was receiving, he still made time for her.
Jane couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and, if she was being honest, a little disbelief. How had she ended up having someone like him by her side? It almost felt unreal. With how everyone was beginning to recognize Ethan's abilities, she sometimes wondered if she was just holding him back.
She shook her head, brushing those thoughts away. No. He chooses to be here. And… I want to keep up, too.
Tightening the towel around her neck, she left the training grounds, weaving through the corridors of the academy with ease. Though she preferred the silence of the library, she had spent enough time moving between the training areas, classrooms, and lecture halls to know her way around even the busiest sections.
As she neared the library, the familiar sight of towering bookshelves in the distance filled her with a quiet sense of relief. The library was her sanctuary, her escape from everything—the noise, the expectations, the pressure. But just as she was about to step forward, a voice called out behind her.
"Jane."
Jane stiffened the moment she heard the voice.
A small, almost imperceptible flinch ran through her body, her grip tightening around the towel draped over her shoulders. She hadn't expected to hear that voice—not now, not here.
Slowly, she turned her head, her brown eyes meeting the familiar yet unsettling gaze of Melanie.
"Where are you going?"
Melanie's tone was casual, almost nonchalant, but Jane knew better. That voice—it was laced with something she couldn't quite place. Not hostility, not warmth either. Just… something off.
Jane swallowed, pushing back the unease that had begun to coil in her stomach. "The library," she replied, her voice even, controlled.
Melanie took a step closer, her hands tucked into the pockets of her academy uniform. The bruises were still faintly visible beneath the soft glow of the hallway lights, barely concealed by the collar of her jacket. Jane noticed them immediately, her gaze flickering over them for a fraction of a second before returning to Melanie's eyes.
It wasn't her place to ask.
Melanie noticed her glance, but she didn't acknowledge it. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips quirking in an unreadable expression.
"You spend too much time there," she commented.
Jane forced a small smile. "It's quiet."
A brief silence stretched between them. The sound of distant footsteps echoed down the hallway, other students going about their routines, but in this moment, it felt like they were the only two people standing there.
Melanie shifted her weight, watching Jane closely. "You've been training a lot, haven't you?"
Jane hesitated. She wasn't sure why, but this conversation felt… strange. Not in an outright threatening way, but in a way that made her feel like she was stepping into something she hadn't prepared for.
"Yeah," she admitted after a pause. "Everyone is."
Melanie hummed in response, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Then, she sighed, her breath visible in the cold air of the hallway.
Melanie took another step forward, closing the distance between them. Jane's muscles tensed instinctively, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. She could feel the cold radiating off Melanie, a stark contrast to the simmering heat beneath her own skin from training.
Then, Melanie spoke, her voice smooth yet laced with venom.
"It seems you've seduced another boy with your face."
Jane's eyes narrowed slightly, but before she could respond, Melanie leaned in. Close enough that Jane could feel her breath against her ear.
And then—
"Mia."
The name slithered into Jane's ear like a curse, sending an immediate, visceral reaction through her body. Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled before she could stop them, her fingers tightening around the towel draped over her shoulders.
She tried to suppress it. Tried to will herself not to react.
But she had already flinched.
Melanie's lips curled into a cruel smile as she leaned back, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Oh? That got a reaction," she murmured mockingly. "How nostalgic."
Jane forced herself to stay still, to push down the memories clawing their way up her throat.
Melanie, of course, wasn't done. She took her time, circling Jane like a predator toying with its prey. "You should give up on him."
Chapter 865 - Between (2)
"You should give up on him." she said, her voice soft but laced with malice. "You know how things are right now, don't you?"
Jane didn't respond, but her jaw tightened.
Melanie clicked her tongue, feigning disappointment. "Oh, come on, Jane. Don't play dumb." Her gaze flickered toward the empty hallway before settling back on Jane. "The freshmen and sophomores? They're practically at each other's throats. It's only a matter of time before things escalate. And when they do..."
She leaned in again, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"You'll be caught in the middle."
Jane clenched her fists, feeling the nails dig into her palm.
"Imagine how badly that could go for you," Melanie continued, her voice sweetly cruel. "Ethan? He's a freshman. You're a sophomore. Do you really think that's going to sit well with anyone?"
Jane knew what she was trying to do. Knew that Melanie was using the tensions between the year groups as an excuse—just another tool in her arsenal to make her life hell.
But knowing didn't make it sting any less.
Melanie stepped back, tilting her head, studying Jane with something close to amusement. "You think you can pretend like this doesn't matter? Like you can just ignore it?" Her expression twisted into something darker. "You always act like you're above it all. Like you're better than us."
Jane's grip on the towel tightened. She wasn't above anything. She wasn't better.
She was just tired.
"Tch. I hate girls like you." Melanie's tone was sharp now, the thin veil of amusement slipping. "Always acting so perfect, so untouchable. But you're not, are you, Jane?"
She leaned in once more, her lips curling into a smirk.
"Because I remember."
Jane's breath came shallow, but she forced herself to stand firm. She couldn't show any more weakness.
Melanie exhaled slowly before taking a step back, as if satisfied. "Anyway," she drawled, "consider this a warning. Or advice, if you're feeling hopeful. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Ethan."
She gave Jane one last look before turning on her heel, her footsteps light against the cold floor.
As she disappeared down the hallway, Jane let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
The towel slipped from her grip, falling to the ground.
She clenched her jaw, forcing down the shaky feeling in her chest.
Mia.
That name still had power over her.
And Melanie knew it.
Jane took a deep breath, her hands tightening into fists at her sides.
She wasn't going to let Melanie win.
She stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway where Melanie had just disappeared.
Her breathing was steady now, controlled. The initial sting of the words had passed, replaced by a cold, familiar emptiness.
This wasn't new.
People like Melanie had always been around—picking, prodding, waiting for a moment of weakness to exploit. Jane had seen it before. She had felt it before. It was like walking through a storm you knew would never truly pass, only change direction.
But she had long since learned how to stand in the rain.
Without a word, she bent down, picking up the towel from the ground. She didn't bother dusting it off—her hands felt too stiff, her movements too mechanical. She needed to get rid of this feeling.
She turned on her heel and walked. Not toward the library, not yet.
She needed a moment.
The academy bathrooms were empty at this hour, the pale glow of the fluorescent lights flickering against the pristine white tiles. The quiet hum of the ventilation system was the only sound as Jane stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her.
She moved toward the sink, placing both hands on the cool ceramic surface. Her grip was firm—steady, even as the tension in her shoulders refused to ease.
She turned on the tap.
The rush of cold water filled the silence, and without hesitation, Jane leaned down and splashed it onto her face. The shock of it sent a jolt through her system, grounding her. Her breath hitched slightly as she let the icy sensation wash over her skin, chasing away the lingering heat of anger, of discomfort.
Drip.
Water slid down her face, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone before sinking into the fabric of her training suit. Her fingers curled against the sink's edge as she slowly straightened, staring at her reflection.
Her brown eyes, still sharp.
Her expression, still composed.
Her face, still hers.
Jane exhaled, forcing a small smile onto her lips.
"It's fine. You can do it."
Her voice was soft, meant only for herself, a quiet reminder that she wouldn't break. That she had been through worse. That this—Melanie's threats, the tension between the freshmen and sophomores, the exhausting weight of it all—was just another thing to endure.
And endurance was something Jane excelled at.
With one last breath, she turned off the faucet, grabbing a nearby paper towel to dry her face. The moment she tossed it into the bin, her hands had already relaxed.
The moment she stepped out of the bathroom, her posture had already shifted—shoulders rolled back, expression neutral, unreadable.
By the time she reached the library doors, she had already pushed everything to the back of her mind.
Melanie's words.
Mia's name.
The weight of knowing this wouldn't be the last time.
She wasn't going to let any of it stop her.
Not now. Not ever.
With that, Jane stepped inside, heading toward the quiet solitude of the bookshelves.
*******
The dim glow of candlelight flickered against the polished mahogany walls of Headmaster Jonathan's office, casting elongated shadows that danced with the evening breeze seeping through the barely open window. The air carried the faint scent of aged parchment and ink, mingled with the ever-present tension that had settled over the academy like a storm cloud refusing to break.
Jonathan sat at his desk, his fingers interlocked, his sharp eyes fixed on the stack of letters and reports before him. The insignias of various guilds—some minor, some among the most influential in the Federation—were pressed into the wax seals. Each document contained a different variation of the same demand.
More cadets.
More recruits for their ranks.
More control over the next generation of hunters.
His grip on the chair's armrest tightened, his knuckles whitening. The guilds had always tried to exert influence over the academy, but now? Now, they were pushing harder than ever, their letters dripping with carefully veiled threats masked as requests.
A heavy knock on the door snapped him from his thoughts. "Enter," he commanded.
The door swung open, revealing Professor Eleanor, her composed expression betraying the faintest flicker of concern. She stepped inside, carrying yet another sealed document.
"This just arrived," she said, placing the envelope on his desk. Jonathan barely spared it a glance, already knowing what it would contain.
"They're getting desperate," he muttered, leaning back. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the wood, the sound filling the quiet room.
Eleanor studied him carefully. "You've held them at bay for years, Headmaster. But with everything that's happening in the Federation—the conflicts, the shifting alliances—the guilds see an opportunity. They're not just pressing for influence anymore. They want numbers. Cadets trained under our banner, but sworn to their cause before they even graduate."
Jonathan exhaled sharply. "I expected pressure, but not like this. Not all at once." His voice turned steely. "Do they think I will bend so easily?"
Eleanor didn't answer immediately. Instead, she picked up one of the documents from the growing pile, her eyes scanning its contents. "This one is from the Iron Fangs. They've increased their demand. They want an entire cadet division assigned to them as part of a 'strategic partnership.' They claim it would 'benefit the students'—exposing them to real-world conflicts before their official deployment."
Jonathan scoffed. "A partnership, is it? More like a thinly veiled conscription effort."
He sat forward, his piercing gaze meeting Eleanor's. "Make no mistake. I will not let the academy become a breeding ground for their wars."
Eleanor hesitated, then spoke carefully. "You have always absorbed the pressure, Headmaster. Confronted it head-on, shouldering the weight so the cadets remain protected. But…" She lowered the document and met his gaze fully. "Can you hold it all back forever?"
Silence settled between them, heavy and suffocating.
Jonathan's expression remained impassive, but deep within, he could feel it—the shift. The way the air around him felt different, like something unseen was stirring beneath the surface of the world.
A subtle unease. A whisper of something foreign creeping into the edges of his senses.
His instincts, sharpened by decades of battle and experience, screamed at him. This wasn't just political maneuvering. It wasn't just power-hungry guilds seeking leverage.
Something else was brewing.
Something unseen.
Something dangerous.
He exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "The guilds are circling like wolves, but they aren't the only ones moving. There's another force at play here, something beyond their greed."
Eleanor tilted her head slightly. "You sense something?"
Jonathan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rose from his chair, stepping toward the window. His eyes traced the darkened horizon, as if searching for something beyond sight.
"The world is shifting, Eleanor," he murmured. "This pressure from the guilds—it's only the beginning. The true storm hasn't arrived yet."
She studied him, recognizing the weight of his words. Jonathan had been right about many things before, his foresight honed by years of battle and leadership. If he sensed something stirring, then it was not mere paranoia.
"Then what do we do?" she asked quietly.
Jonathan's jaw clenched. "We prepare."
He turned back to her, his expression colder than steel. "I will push back against the guilds as I always have. I will hold the line, no matter how many of them think they can break me." His voice dropped, more measured, more calculating. "But at the same time, I want eyes and ears everywhere. Not just on the guilds, but on everything—the Federation, the undercurrents of power, the movements in the shadows. If something bigger is coming, I refuse to be caught unaware."
Eleanor nodded. "I'll have my contacts look into it. I'll ensure the academy remains secure."
Jonathan turned back toward the window, his gaze lingering on the horizon.
"Good."
But despite his words, the feeling in his chest did not subside. The unseen force, whatever it was, had already begun to take root.
And when it revealed itself, the world would change.
Chapter 866 - No title
The morning light streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the chatter-filled classroom as students trickled in, their conversations lively and energetic. The air was buzzing with one topic in particular—their first mentorship sessions.
Ethan strolled in alongside Lucas and Carl, their discussion already deep in recounting their own experiences. Lilia arrived shortly after, her sharp red eyes scanning the room. She quickly spotted Julia slumped over her desk, looking utterly destroyed.
Her usual fiery energy was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she sat with her head on the table, her arms sprawled out lifelessly as if she had just fought a war—and lost.
Lilia threw her a side-eye, crossing her arms. "What happened to you?"
Julia let out a long, suffering groan before finally lifting her head just enough to mumble. "...A truck went over me."
Lilia blinked. "What?"
Julia groaned again, rubbing her temples. "Kaya Hartley. That's what happened."
The group, now fully invested, turned toward her. Ethan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk forming. "So, Aunt Kaya has made you taste her medicine, huh?"
Julia shot him a half-hearted glare before slamming her head back onto the desk. "I have seen hell."
Carl, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward slightly. "What kind of training did she put you through?"
Julia turned her head just enough to glare at them all, her blue eyes glassy with exhaustion. "Do you know what it feels like to die and be reborn in the span of a few hours? Because I do now."
Lucas smirked. "I take it she didn't go easy on you."
"She never goes easy," Ethan added, chuckling. "Trust me, I know."
Julia sat up slightly, only to immediately groan and slump back down. "She threw us off a cliff."
Silence.
Lilia tilted her head. "Excuse me?"
Julia groaned again, massaging her temples. "Threw us. Off. A cliff. And when I climbed back up, she just nodded and said, 'Do it faster next time.' Next time?!"
The group exchanged glances, taking a moment to process what Julia had just said.
Lucas was the first to react, letting out a low whistle. "Damn. That's rough, even for Kaya Hartley standards."
Ethan grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "And here I thought you wanted excitement, Julia."
Julia shot him a look so dead inside that even he had to hold back his laughter. "Excitement is one thing, Ethan. Getting thrown off a cliff is another."
Lilia, smirking slightly, leaned against a nearby desk. "Sounds like a you problem."
Julia groaned again and covered her face. "I hate all of you."
Ethan shrugged. "Well, at least you survived."
Julia peeked up through her fingers. "That's not comforting."
Lilia exhaled, stretching slightly. "Well, mine was nothing like that. Selena Vayl went easy on us. Probably because it was the first session."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Easy as in…?"
Lilia shrugged. "No extreme tests or physical endurance trials. She mostly just went over advanced elemental manipulation concepts. A bit of sparring at the end, but nothing crazy."
Carl leaned back in his chair. "Huh. Guess not every mentor believes in breaking their students on day one."
"Wish I had one of those," Julia muttered, rubbing her arms as if she could still feel the pain of whatever hell Kaya had put her through.
Irina, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Same for me. Amelia Lake took a similar approach. First session was mostly theoretical—breaking down magic application in different battlefield scenarios."
Lucas smirked. "So, you just got to sit and listen the whole time?"
"Not exactly." Irina's golden eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Her session was mixed with sophomores and freshmen."
That made the group pause.
Ethan's expression turned more interested. "Oh?"
Irina nodded. "You can imagine the tension."
Lilia crossed her arms. "Sophomores always think they're better than us."
"They do have more experience," Carl pointed out.
Irina exhaled, shaking her head. "That's not what I meant. It wasn't just a matter of experience. It was… expectations. Some of them clearly weren't thrilled about sharing a mentor with freshmen."
Julia finally sat up properly, curiosity momentarily overriding her exhaustion. "Did anything happen?"
Irina's smirk was faint, but there. "Not yet. But I could tell some of them were already drawing lines. A few didn't even try to hide the fact that they thought we were wasting Amelia's time."
Lucas scoffed. "Cocky."
"Typical," Lilia muttered. "The academy's competitive as hell. Sophomores probably think we're just taking up space."
Ethan hummed thoughtfully. "I take it Amelia didn't do anything to address it?"
Irina shook her head. "No. But I think she wants us to sort it out on our own."
Lilia smirked slightly. "Sounds like your first real test won't be training—it'll be proving you belong."
Irina's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Carl glanced around. "And what about you, Ethan?"
Ethan smiled, the usual carefree edge in his demeanor softening just slightly. He leaned back against his chair, arms crossed, a faint glint of exhaustion in his blue eyes—but not complaint.
"Well," he said, exhaling, "Professor Eleanor made sure I didn't walk out of there unscathed."
That caught everyone's attention.
Lilia arched an eyebrow. "I assume that means she didn't go easy on you?"
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. "Easy? No. But that's not really her style, is it?" He paused for a moment, rolling his shoulders as if the phantom weight of the session still lingered. "She pushed my limits. Not just physically, but how I use my mana. Turns out I've been treating it more like a backup tool than an extension of myself. She made that very clear."
Carl gave a knowing nod. "Makes sense. You've always relied on raw strength first."
"Exactly," Ethan agreed. "But Eleanor—she doesn't just teach you how to be strong. She forces you to understand why certain things work, and why others will get you killed." He exhaled, shaking his head with an amused smirk. "She said I'm incomplete."
Julia blinked. "Incomplete? That's… harsh."
Ethan shrugged. "Not really. She's right. I've spent my whole life training, but there's always been this gap—one I didn't even realize was there until she pointed it out. It's like she sees every flaw, every weakness, and she knows exactly where to hit to make you confront them."
Lilia hummed in thought. "That's probably why the academy holds her in such high regard. Anyone can teach combat. Few can teach refinement."
Irina, arms crossed, studied him with quiet curiosity. "And? Do you think you'll adapt?"
Ethan smirked slightly, but there was no arrogance in it—just determination. "Of course. If there's a weakness, I'll fix it. That's the whole point of training."
Lucas shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "You really are a battle junkie, huh?"
Ethan chuckled. "I just don't like being second to someone who's stronger than me."
Irina scoffed. "A noble goal, but good luck with Eleanor. I doubt she'll ever be satisfied."
Ethan laughed, but there was a sense of truth in his voice when he said, "Yeah. I figured that out pretty quickly."
Lucas leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright, so what exactly did Eleanor make you do? Just push your limits, or was there something worse?"
Ethan let out a short breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought back to the session. "She started with her pressure."
Lucas blinked. "Her what?"
Ethan smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Her pressure. The full weight of her mana. She put Astron and me under it right from the start."
There was a brief silence before Julia threw her hands up. "Wait, hold on. Her pressure? What, is she crazy?"
Carl's expression darkened slightly, and even Lilia's usual nonchalance gave way to a more thoughtful frown.
Irina, arms crossed, exhaled. "Of course she did. If it's Eleanor, that's to be expected."
Lucas, however, looked around in confusion. "Okay, I know she's an S-Rank, but you guys are acting like she's a monster or something."
Ethan shook his head. "Not just an S-Rank. People seem to forget now that she's a professor for freshmen, but Eleanor isn't just powerful—she's unique."
Lilia nodded. "If you've ever spent time around high-ranking Hunters, especially those in the top circles, you'd know about her."
Lucas frowned. "Alright, then explain it."
Carl leaned forward slightly. "Most S-Ranks radiate pressure naturally because their mana is so refined and overwhelming. But Eleanor's? Hers is something different."
Ethan nodded. "Yeah. It's not just raw force. It adjusts—like it's alive. Most high-rankers apply mana pressure like crushing weight, making it hard to move or breathe. Eleanor's does that, but it also influences how you react."
Lilia added, "It forces you to adapt in ways you wouldn't expect. She doesn't just make you endure—she makes you struggle in a way that forces change. That's why she's terrifying."
Lucas exhaled. "So, let me get this straight. She just threw you and Astron under that on day one?"
Ethan let out a dry chuckle. "Yep."
Julia shook her head, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Man, that's evil."
Ethan smirked. "You say that, but I get the feeling she hasn't even started being truly evil."
Ethan was right.
Chapter 867 - No title (2)
The dull thud of my foot meeting stone echoed through the training hall as my kick shattered the golem's core, sending its massive frame crumbling into dust. Another enemy neutralized. But even as I moved on to the next, my mind wasn't fully present.
My body responded automatically, weaving through the battlefield with practiced precision, striking at the weak points of each construct with ruthless efficiency. But my thoughts… they were still caught in the aftermath of Eleanor's evaluation.
'You've developed habits.'
I side-stepped a golem's massive fist, feeling the air pressure shift an instant before the impact landed. My blade slashed upward, severing its arm before it could retract.
'You've trained yourself to react to superior forces—not by clashing with them, but by adapting before they even press down on you.'
It wasn't a lie. In fact, it was probably one of the most accurate assessments anyone had made about me.
I had been subjected to many strong pressures before. Reina's was suffocating, a crushing force that threatened to break bones just by existing near her. Dakota's was sharp, precise, a pressure that cut through every layer of defense like a blade slipping through silk. There had been others, too—monsters, humans, beings that exuded power so suffocating it forced me to find ways to endure.
And yet, Eleanor's was different.
I pivoted, dodging another strike, then struck the golem's core in one fluid motion. It crumbled instantly, but I wasn't satisfied.
'Because you've learned to move around pressure rather than resist it, you've never fully tested your ability to withstand it.'
She wasn't wrong. My body had memorized the feeling of overwhelming force—not to overpower it, but to flow through it, like water slipping between cracks. A habit formed out of necessity.
Eleanor's presence had made that impossible.
The gravity-like force she imposed was precise. It wasn't just pressing down on me—it was calculated, shaped to target the very habits I relied on. My usual method of slipping past the weight of an opponent's presence hadn't worked. Every time I tried to adjust, she had already accounted for it, pinning me in place in a way that felt unnatural.
'An enemy who doesn't allow you to adapt.'
I clicked my tongue, irritation flickering through me.
That kind of enemy does exist. I had encountered them before. And if I hadn't been aware of my own limitations before today, I was now.
Another golem lunged, its massive stone body moving faster than it had any right to.
I didn't dodge.
Instead, I shifted my weight, bracing myself against the impact. The force slammed into me like a falling boulder, but I didn't let my body absorb all of it instinctively.
No. Endure it. Test it.
I dug my feet into the ground, feeling the raw strength press into my muscles. My instincts screamed at me to move, to slip past, to do what I had always done—but I resisted.
For a split second, I held my ground.
Then, my mana surged, coiling within me like a tightly wound spring before exploding outward. I redirected the force through my core, twisting my body just enough to dissipate the impact without completely avoiding it.
The golem staggered.
I moved.
One clean strike through its core, and the construct collapsed into dust.
My breathing was steady, controlled, but my fingers twitched slightly.
'You've never fully tested your ability to withstand it.'
I felt my jaw tightening a little.
Eleanor's assessment wasn't just accurate—it had forced me to confront something I had been subconsciously avoiding.
Adapting had kept me alive. It had allowed me to face overwhelming odds, to come out standing when others had fallen.
But if an enemy appeared who could remove my ability to adapt…
'Then what?'
I steadied my breath, rolling my shoulders as I felt the aftershocks of the impact settle into my muscles. The tension lingered, but it wasn't unbearable—it was informative.
Eleanor's words had pointed out a gap in my approach, that much was true. But from that gap, something else had emerged.
I had endured.
The moment I stopped instinctively slipping away, the moment I let myself feel the force—the moment I withstood—I had gained something.
The golem's impact had been immense, but in that split second, when I chose to take the force instead of avoiding it, I noticed something new.
Mana naturally disperses upon impact—normally, I let it guide my movements, redirecting force to minimize damage. That was a passive process, one I rarely had to think about. But this time, as I braced myself, I focused on that moment of collision.
Instead of letting the force be something I evaded, I let it compress within me. My body, my mana, even the foreign energy inside me—it all reacted. The strain didn't just dissipate—it coiled within, stored, waiting for release.
It was familiar.
'Voidborne…'
The power I had inherited from the Void Dragon. The aspect of Void Energy that had resonated within me ever since I had claimed it.
Void isn't just about erasure. It isn't just about destruction.
It is absorption. Compression. The ability to consume force and return it magnified.
The realization settled into me like a locked puzzle piece finally clicking into place.
My body had already been trying to do this instinctively. The habits Eleanor warned me about weren't just reactions—they were partial forms of something greater. I hadn't been dodging only out of caution or experience.
I had been subconsciously seeking the most efficient path to absorb external force, minimizing my losses while maximizing my returns.
And now?
I could refine that further.
The golems activated once more, their heavy steps rumbling through the training ground as new constructs emerged. I turned toward them, rolling my wrist as my mana subtly shifted, coiling around my limbs.
'Let's test this further.'
I sprinted forward.
The first golem swung down at me, its colossal arm crashing toward the ground with brutal force. I didn't slip away, didn't sidestep the impact.
Instead, I braced.
Mana surged through me, and for an instant, I let the force sink into my body. The strain pressed down, my muscles tensed—but instead of resisting, I let it mold itself within me.
And then, I released it.
CRACK!
The stored force surged through my legs as I exploded upward, my counter-strike striking the golem's core with more the impact. The shockwave sent cracks splintering through its frame before it collapsed into dust.
I exhaled sharply.
'It works.'
I took a steady breath, feeling the lingering vibrations in my limbs from the impact. The force had transferred efficiently, but not perfectly.
A faint tremor ran through my muscles, a subtle yet undeniable strain settling deep within my body. I staggered slightly, my footing uneven for just a fraction of a second before I steadied myself.
'Still inefficient.'
The Void Compression concept was taking form, but it wasn't refined—not yet. The force didn't flow as smoothly as it should have. Some of it still clashed against my body rather than being completely integrated, leaving behind residual tension.
The strain wasn't just in my muscles; it was also in my very foundation.
Unlike mana, which naturally circulates and disperses throughout the body, Void energy didn't just move—it.
'I need to understand it better.'
And if I wasn't careful, it would consume me as well.
I exhaled slowly, letting the tension ease from my limbs as the last of the training constructs crumbled into dust.
The progress was undeniable. Void Compression was beginning to take shape, but it was still a delicate, incomplete technique—one that required refinement, patience, and above all, control.
There was no point in pushing further today. If I forced something so volatile without fully understanding it, I risked more than just inefficiency—I risked losing control entirely.
For now, this was enough.
I deactivated the training hall's combat settings, the ambient mana in the air slowly dispersing as the simulation shut down. The hum of the chamber's energy faded, leaving only the sound of my own breathing.
With measured steps, I exited the training grounds, making my way toward the academy corridors. The artificial lighting overhead cast long shadows across the pristine floor, a contrast to the raw, weighty atmosphere I had left behind in the training hall.
Breakfast.
I reached into my bag, pulling out the protein shake I had prepared earlier. A simple blend, packed with the necessary nutrients to sustain my body through the demands of training. I twisted the cap open, taking a slow, measured sip as I walked.
The taste was neutral—neither pleasant nor unpleasant. But it did its job.
With each step, I let my body adjust back to normal movement, feeling the subtle aches in my muscles settle into something more manageable. My body had taken strain, but nothing beyond what I could handle.
The academy's hallways were already filling with students, most of them preparing for the first class of the day.
But then as I entered the room I sensed a bunch of gazes on me coming from a concentrated location stating that the gazers were a friend group.
And they were.
Chapter 868 - No title (3)
"You say that, but I get the feeling she hasn't even started being truly evil."
Lucas leaned back, shaking his head. "Okay, so how'd you even survive that?"
Ethan exhaled, leaning back slightly as he rolled his shoulders. "Honestly? She mostly kept it under control. I mean, it was hell, but she didn't completely crush us. She was testing, not outright breaking us. Still, we had to put in a lot of effort just to stay standing."
Carl, ever the observant one, nodded. "Astron was with you, right? How'd he do?"
At that, Ethan's smirk shifted into something more genuine. He rubbed his chin, recalling the session. "Astron…" He let the name hang in the air for a moment before shaking his head with a small laugh. "He handled it damn well. Better than I expected. And honestly? It was probably even harder for him than it was for me."
Julia, who had been watching Ethan carefully, narrowed her eyes. "Really?"
Ethan met her gaze, still smiling slightly. "Yeah. I mean, he looked like he was really built differently. He adapted to Eleanor's pressure almost too fast, which is kind of insane considering it was our first time under it. Most people would've collapsed in the first few minutes, but he kept up."
Julia leaned back, crossing her arms. "Huh. You sound like you respect him."
Ethan shrugged. "Well, yeah. You have to give credit where it's due."
But then, a sharp grin formed at the edge of his lips. "That being said—" he tapped his fingers against the desk, "—it's only a matter of time before I surpass him."
That made Julia perk up, her smirk returning. "Heeeeh… Competitive, aren't we?"
Ethan chuckled. "Always."
Lilia, who had been quietly listening up until now, rested her chin on her hand. "Alright, but I want details. You said Astron adapted quickly—what do you mean by that?"
Ethan thought back to the session, the way Astron had reacted to Eleanor's increasing mana pressure. "It's hard to explain. Most people resist when they're under pressure like that. It's instinct—you brace against it, fight to endure. But Astron? He flowed with it. Like he wasn't just resisting, he was adjusting before it fully hit."
Lilia's brows furrowed slightly. "That's… unusual."
Ethan nodded. "Yeah. It wasn't just strength—it was efficiency. And it makes me think that whatever training he's had before coming here wasn't normal."
Lucas let out a low whistle. "Damn. Now I really want to see you two go all out against each other."
Julia smirked. "Yeah, yeah, that'd be fun, but what I really want to see is who breaks first under Eleanor."
The conversation lulled for a moment before Julia, ever the one to stir things up, glanced toward Irina. "Hey, wait a second."
The rest of the group turned their eyes on her as well.
"You've been awfully quiet through all of this," Julia said, narrowing her eyes. "Not interested in the Ethan vs. Astron saga?"
Irina, still leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, barely reacted. "Of course not," she said, her voice calm. "I just didn't have anything to add."
Lucas, sitting next to her, frowned slightly, studying her expression. "Hmm."
Ethan raised an eyebrow but didn't push. Lilia, however, tapped a finger against the table, tilting her head. "Really? I figured you'd at least have some thoughts on it."
Irina shrugged. "You all seem entertained enough without my input."
Lucas, still watching her closely, let it go—at least for now. But just as he turned his attention back to Ethan, he caught something.
A shift.
Irina's posture, while still relaxed, suddenly held an extra tension. Her golden eyes flickered toward the classroom entrance for the briefest moment, and Lucas followed her gaze instinctively.
Just as the door creaked open.
Lucas barely had time to register the small change in Irina's expression before he saw the reason.
Astron entered.
As always, his expression was unreadable, his sharp purple eyes scanning the room briefly before settling on an empty seat toward the back. He walked with that same measured, effortless stride, his presence quiet but somehow noticeable all the same.
Lucas, still watching Irina out of the corner of his eye, noticed the way she didn't immediately look away.
Interesting.
Julia, on the other hand, had no subtlety. She grinned and immediately sat up. "Speak of the devil."
Ethan smirked, shaking his head. "Right on cue."
Astron didn't react, simply making his way toward his seat.
But Lucas? He was still thinking about what he'd just seen.
Irina had noticed him first.
And something about that fact felt… curious.
*****
The sharp sound of boots tapping against the polished floor filled the room, steady and deliberate. The cadets, still engaged in their casual banter, instinctively straightened as the presence of their instructor loomed at the doorway.
A moment later, Instructor Reynold Graves stepped inside.
Tall and broad-shouldered, Reynold carried himself with the practiced ease of a veteran soldier. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room with quiet authority, taking in the cadets' postures, their expressions, and the lingering remnants of conversation that had yet to fully settle. His uniform, crisp and well-maintained, reflected the discipline he expected from those under his tutelage.
As he reached the front of the room, he clasped his hands behind his back. Though his presence was not as suffocating as Eleanor's, the weight of his experience demanded respect.
"Good," he said, his voice deep but composed. "At least you all know when to stop talking."
A hushed silence followed, only broken by the sound of a chair shifting slightly as students adjusted their posture.
Reynold's gaze swept across the room once more before he nodded slightly. "Cadets, as per the academy's training curriculum, we will begin the Building Simulation Exercise this afternoon. This will be your first large-scale evaluation in a controlled combat scenario, and it will determine where each of you currently stands."
He tapped on his wrist device, and within seconds, the classroom's holo-display flickered to life. The cadets turned their eyes toward the projected image—a large, multi-leveled urban environment reconstructed entirely through mana-linked simulations. Collapsed structures, hidden corridors, and debris-laden streets formed a labyrinth of unpredictable battlegrounds.
"The objective," Reynold continued, his voice measured and firm, "is to retrieve and secure a mystical artifact hidden within this structure. However, you won't be alone." He allowed a brief pause before adding, "Your opponents will be your fellow cadets."
The room buzzed with renewed interest. Several cadets exchanged glances, already calculating potential strategies, while others—like Julia—grinned at the thought of facing off against familiar faces.
"You will be divided into teams of three, assigned at random. These teams will have to navigate the environment, eliminate or evade enemy teams, and secure the artifact until the round's conclusion."
Reynold took a step forward, his expression sharp. "The rules are simple but strict:"
Teams will be randomly selected—you will not be able to choose your allies.
Points are awarded for teamwork, strategy, and effective defense of the artifact—not just combat skill.
The Mana-Linked Arenas will provide realistic urban combat conditions: collapsing walls, hidden traps, multiple floors, and unpredictable obstacles. You must adapt accordingly.
He glanced at the class, gauging their reactions. "You will be expected to coordinate, think critically, and adapt on the fly. Individual strength will not be enough to secure victory—cohesion and quick decision-making will matter more."
For a moment, he allowed the weight of his words to settle over the cadets.
Then, in his usual no-nonsense tone, he added, "Your assigned teams will be displayed on your academy portals in exactly one hour. Report to the Mana-Linked Arena at 1400 hours sharp. Any cadet who fails to arrive on time will not participate and will have to make up for the session in a far less pleasant manner."
At that, a few students instinctively straightened further, knowing that "less pleasant" in Reynold's vocabulary likely meant hours of grueling remedial training.
"I expect full effort from each of you," Reynold concluded. "Dismissed."
As he turned, the tension in the air broke. Almost immediately, the class erupted into murmurs, speculation running wild. Who would be teamed up with whom? Who would get the artifact first? And, more importantly—who would come out on top?
One thing was certain.
This afternoon was going to be chaotic.
Chapter 869 - New group
As I made my way to the designated meeting area, my mind was already running through possible strategies.
The composition of my team would dictate my approach to the exercise, and though I had already memorized every cadet's habits, strengths, and weaknesses, I still had to account for the unpredictability of the battlefield itself.
'Though tryharding may not be that necessary.'
The crowd was thick with murmurs and speculation as cadets gathered, scanning the displayed team assignments on their academy portals. My eyes flicked over the holographic list.
Team 6
Astron Natusalune
Asher Veldrin
Caden Holt
A pause.
So he was on my team.
Asher Veldrin—the same person who had stood with Taylor, who had made the choice to seal me inside the mana stone cave during our first mission. He wasn't the ringleader, no. But he was complicit, and that mattered.
The second name, Caden Holt, wasn't someone I had direct experience with. I knew of him, of course—I knew everyone in our class.
A hard worker. Not particularly remarkable in combat, but diligent enough to refine his fundamentals. A swordsman, though his technique lacked the refined precision of someone like Julia or others. He compensated for it with persistence, if nothing else.
But what stood out more than his combat style was his personality.
Caden was the type who always wore a smile, a natural social lubricant. Similar to Ethan in that regard, but without the same strength of character. He was… impressionable. Often drawn into the pull of his more dominant friends, sometimes without even realizing he was being used.
I had also noted a recent shift in his behavior—subtle changes in his body language, in the way he interacted with female cadets. His need for validation had become more pronounced. A byproduct of personal circumstances, no doubt.
The breakup.
It had been a quiet thing, not a dramatic falling out. But those paying attention—people like me—could see the effects. The way he lingered a little longer in conversations with girls, the extra effort he put into appearing composed, as if unaffected.
A boy desperately trying to convince himself he was fine.
Not an ideal mindset for a battlefield.
I spotted them both near the edge of the training ground. Asher was leaning against a railing, arms crossed, watching me approach with a neutral expression. Beside him, Caden had that easy-going smile on his face, though his posture was just a bit too casual, as if trying to appear effortless.
Asher spoke first.
"We meet again."
His voice was steady, but there was an underlying edge to it. His body betrayed him more than his words—subtle stiffness in his stance, fingers tapping against his arm, the way his shoulders tensed slightly as I closed the distance.
"You've changed a lot," he added, eyeing me carefully.
I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I let the silence stretch just long enough to unsettle him.
Then, calmly, I said, "People change. It's inevitable."
Caden, sensing the weight between us, stepped in with a wide grin.
"Well, aren't we off to a fun start?" He clapped Asher on the back before turning to me. "Astron, right? We haven't really worked together before, but I've seen you in action. Solid stuff, man."
His tone was friendly, casual, but his eyes flicked to me with a hint of curiosity.
I studied him. His posture was loose, open. His gaze flickered—not in fear, but in the way of someone looking for a response, for acknowledgment.
A small nod was enough to satisfy him.
"Caden Holt," I said, as if I needed confirmation.
"The one and only," he replied with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, uh… yeah. I'm guessing we're supposed to figure out how we're gonna work together."
He exhaled, then added, "Not that I doubt either of you, but if we're being real, I don't think I'm carrying this team. I'm more of a 'reliable support' kind of guy, y'know? So… I'll follow whatever plan you guys come up with."
I noted the way his smile widened slightly as he finished speaking, his eyes drifting just past me for half a second.
A small shift in focus.
A quick scan of my surroundings told me what I already suspected—his gaze had moved toward a cluster of female cadets nearby.
Ah.
So even now, his mind wasn't entirely on the mission.
Caden wasn't a bad person. But he had his distractions. His weaknesses.
'Well….it is not my responsibility to fix them.'
Asher exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Well, at least you're honest."
Asher ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Then, with a measured look, he spoke.
"Look..."
His tone was restrained, but the tension was there, woven beneath the surface. His posture shifted slightly, weight pressing onto one leg—a subtle sign of unease, like he was bracing himself for whatever came next.
I remained silent, watching, waiting.
"You and I both know there's been… unfinished business between us," Asher continued, his gaze locking onto mine. "I'm not gonna pretend like nothing happened back at the Mana Stone Mine. I did what I did, and you haven't forgotten that. And honestly?" His lips pressed together, frustration flickering behind his eyes. "I wouldn't either."
There it was.
Recognition. Guilt, even. But also something else—wariness.
He saw me as a threat.
It wasn't just about what had happened at the mine. It was about what I had become since then. It is often like this.
He had expected me to be buried in that cave, to suffer a failure that would set me back. Instead, I had climbed higher. My name was no longer just another among the cadets—it was one that carried weight. More eyes turned toward me now, watching, measuring.
And, of course, there was Irina.
I had noticed the way he looked at me during classes, the way his eyes flickered toward Irina when she stood near me, the barely-there tensing of his shoulders whenever she spoke to me.
Whether he had feelings for her or simply thought that with Irina beside me he would be done for, the result was the same.
To him, I was competition.
"You're right," I said at last, my voice even. "I haven't forgotten."
His expression tightened slightly, as if he expected me to push further.
Instead, I continued, "But this isn't the time for it."
Asher blinked, the tension in his jaw shifting.
I took a step forward, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Focus on what's in front of us. I will do the same."
The words hung between us, simple but heavy.
Asher studied me for a long moment, his muscles still carrying that faint stiffness of guarded emotion. Then, slowly, he let out a sigh, running a hand over the back of his neck.
"...Fine."
His body language softened, if only slightly. His stance was still wary, but something in his posture suggested he was at least partially convinced.
He wasn't letting go of whatever tension existed between us.
But for now, he was willing to set it aside.
Caden, who had been watching the exchange in silence, let out an exaggerated exhale. "Damn, that was getting intense. You two done measuring each other yet?"
I didn't answer, and neither did Asher.
As the tension settled, I remained silent, letting my thoughts drift.
If Asher ever showed signs of being a threat to me, I wouldn't hesitate to eliminate him.
Back at the Mana Stone Mine, I had chosen to let things play out. Not because I was powerless, but because I knew the situation wouldn't escalate beyond control. I had calculated the risks, gauged their intent, and understood that they wouldn't go far enough to truly endanger me.
But that didn't mean I would let that happen again.
I had already allowed it once.
And I wasn't the type to make the same mistake twice.
From the corner of my vision, I noticed Asher side-eyeing me, something unreadable flashing across his face before he exhaled.
"So, what do we do?"
I turned to him, arching a brow slightly. He's asking me?
"You're asking me?" My voice was flat, but the implication was clear.
Asher huffed, shifting his weight. "I may be higher ranked than you, but I know even Irina Emberheart trusts you when it comes to things like this." His expression remained firm, but I caught the way his fingers twitched slightly, a subconscious tick of someone forcing himself to acknowledge an uncomfortable truth.
So, even he had noticed.
I nodded once, approvingly. "Good observation. Keep this up, and you'll stay alive in the industry."
Chapter 870 - New group (2)
Asher studied Astron with narrowed eyes, the gears in his mind turning.
This guy.
At the start of the first semester, they had been partnered together—him, Astron, and Taylor. Back then, Taylor had been at odds with Astron, and Asher had been forced to pick a side. It hadn't been a difficult decision.
Taylor was the daughter of one of the wealthiest merchant families in the entire human domain. That level of power and influence wasn't something to ignore. Aligning himself with her had seemed like the obvious choice—a stepping stone for his own future. Astron, on the other hand, had been insignificant at the time. Just another cadet, competent but unremarkable.
But now?
Now, the balance had shifted.
Astron had changed. He carried himself differently, with a quiet confidence that made others hesitate. His name was spoken more often, with respect, with caution. His connection to Irina Emberheart—one of the strongest cadets in their generation—only solidified his rising status.
Asher had always prided himself on knowing which way the wind was blowing. And right now, Astron was valuable.
And Taylor? He hadn't heard from her in a while. Her behavior had been strange, distant. As if she was dealing with something personal—or perhaps something more than that. He'd made efforts to check in, but she hadn't responded. That was… troubling.
But right now, his priority was the present.
Asher exhaled and studied Astron's face.
This was the same guy he and Taylor had left behind in the mana stone cave. They hadn't done anything directly, but their choice had been clear—they had sealed the entrance and walked away, leaving Astron to fend for himself.
Asher had expected Astron to struggle after that. Maybe he'd drop in the rankings, maybe he'd become resentful, bitter. Instead, he'd grown stronger.
That was the problem.
Asher wasn't someone who got sentimental. He made decisions based on practicality, not emotion. He didn't regret what he had done, but he was aware that it might have created… complications.
And now, standing here in front of Astron, he had to wonder.
Did Astron see him as an enemy? A rival? Or just an obstacle to be removed?
Asher wasn't foolish enough to believe that their history would be forgotten. Not by someone like Astron.
There was a sharpness to his gaze.
Asher had spent years surviving on the streets, learning the language of people before he ever learned how to wield a weapon properly. Reading others had always been second nature to him—body language, micro-expressions, the way someone's eyes flickered when they were lying or withholding something.
That skill had kept him alive. It had earned him a place here, at Arcadia Hunter Academy, through sheer force of will and adaptability. He had proved himself. Fought for his spot. And that was why he prided himself on understanding people, on knowing their angles, their tells.
But when it came to this guy…
'It's pointless.'
Astron Natusalune was an anomaly. A blank slate that refused to be read.
From the very beginning, there was something off about him—not in an obvious way, not in the way of someone hiding a grand secret or wielding some dark past. It was more subtle, more frustrating.
'Like trying to read a book with half the pages missing.'
His expressions, his movements… they were deliberate, but not in a way Asher could dissect. It wasn't the careful control of someone lying, nor the forced casualness of someone masking their emotions.
Unshaken, unaffected, unreadable.
And that irked Asher more than he wanted to admit.
It had always been like this, ever since their first mission together. Back then, it had only been a mild annoyance, something easy to brush aside. But recently?
Recently, it was starting to feel different.
'Or maybe I'm just getting more anxious.'
That thought soured his mood further. He hated feeling uneasy. Hated not knowing where he stood with someone.
Especially someone like him.
But whatever.
The most important thing right now was the practice exercise. Not Astron.
If anything, this was an opportunity—an excuse to observe him more closely. If he could pick up something, anything about what made this guy tick, it might help settle this nagging feeling in his chest.
His gaze lingered on Astron for another beat before he exhaled sharply and forced his attention back to the task at hand.
"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders back, falling into the easy confidence that had always served him well. "Let's get this over with."
For now, he'd play along. Watch. And wait.
Asher kept his stance relaxed, crossing his arms as he studied Astron's reaction. The guy barely seemed fazed. As usual. That was fine. In fact, that was what he wanted.
'Let's see what you do when you're the one in control.'
He had been prepared to take charge if needed—he knew how these exercises worked, how to maneuver within the system to secure a good score. He had survived much worse. But there was no point in forcing leadership when the smarter move was to step back and observe.
Astron had value now.
Irina Emberheart—that Irina—trusted him. Julia Middleton had specifically sought him out for her team. People with real influence, with power, were acknowledging him. That meant something. That meant Asher needed to watch him closely.
'You don't rise in ranks that quickly without a reason.'
And Asher didn't like dealing with unknown variables.
So if Astron was the person everyone was starting to trust, then let's see if he could handle it.
"You're asking me?" Astron's voice was flat, unimpressed. But Asher wasn't stupid—he knew that tone wasn't dismissal. It was testing him back.
Asher huffed, shifting his weight as if the whole thing was hardly worth the conversation. "I may be higher ranked than you, but I know even Irina Emberheart trusts you when it comes to things like this." His voice was even, but his fingers twitched slightly against his arm—just once. A subconscious tick, one he immediately controlled. He knew it had been seen.
Astron had definitely noticed.
And of course, Astron didn't let anything slip. He simply nodded, almost approvingly. "Good observation. Keep this up, and you'll stay alive in the industry."
'Tch.'
Asher felt something flare in his chest—not quite irritation, but something close to it. A part of him wanted to snap back with something sharp, something to remind Astron that he wasn't some rookie who needed survival advice. But he swallowed it down. Because, despite everything, Astron was right.
The industry wasn't a game. Hunters who didn't adapt, who didn't know how to play their cards right, got left behind. Or worse.
And right now, it looked like Astron knew exactly how to play.
That meant Asher had to keep watching.
Testing him was fine. Observing him was fine. But if there was something more to this guy—if there was a reason for his sudden rise, for the way people were starting to orbit around him like he was something worth protecting— then Asher needed to know what it was.
Just then, another voice cut through the lingering tension.
"Alright, alright, we get it. You two done circling each other like predators, or should I grab some popcorn?"
Asher blinked. He had momentarily forgotten about Caden.
That in itself was a mistake.
Caden Holt wasn't just some background figure. He was laid-back, yes. Someone who didn't chase power or position the way Asher did. But that didn't mean he was irrelevant.
If anything, the fact that Asher had instinctively overlooked him for even a few seconds made him feel even more on edge.
Because his instincts as a Hunter were not dismissing Caden.
No, they were telling him something else entirely.
'This guy… he's dangerous in his own way.'
Not like Astron. Astron was unpredictable because he was unreadable, because he made deliberate choices that weren't always obvious until later.
Caden?
Caden was a fighter. That much was clear.
A different kind of threat, but a threat nonetheless.
Not because of deception, not because of some hidden agenda. But because he was good.
Really good.
Asher hadn't fought him directly yet, but it was what he had felt.
This wasn't a guy who just trained to pass the academy's standards. He trained to fight.
And that made him someone Asher needed to keep an eye on.
"Relax, man," Caden continued, rolling his shoulders, his tone still annoyingly casual. "I know I'm not the brains of the operation, but I'd rather not stand around all day while you two size each other up."
Asher scoffed, crossing his arms. "And what exactly are you contributing?"
Caden grinned. "Me? I hit things. Hard. That's my role."
Asher resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'Laid-back guy who's only good at fighting. Yep, that assessment checks out.'
And yet…
That shouldn't be enough for his instincts to tag him as dangerous.
Which meant there was something more to Caden that Asher hadn't seen yet.
'Another unknown variable. Fantastic.'
Astron, meanwhile, had remained silent through their exchange, watching. Not interrupting, not reacting. Just watching.
Caden tilted his head toward him. "So? What's the plan, boss?"
Or maybe, he was just overreacting?
This guy might be just dumb….
Chapter 871 - New group (3)
Astron took the small tablet handed to them by an instructor, his sharp purple eyes scanning the screen as the briefing loaded.
A dimly lit, wireframe representation of the urban complex flickered to life—a sprawling multi-leveled structure with broken corridors, collapsed ceilings, and interwoven staircases. The artifact's location pulsed faintly on the map: Third Floor, West Wing.
Everything else? Unmarked. No exact team placements. No routes. No layouts of enemy fortifications.
They were given just enough information to make a decision—nothing more.
'Realistic, indeed.' Astron narrowed his eyes.
The academy wasn't holding their hands. A real mission wouldn't provide enemy blueprints or detailed guard rotations. A Hunter needed to assess, adapt, and execute within minutes.
They had ten.
Two teams infiltrating. Two teams defending.
Which meant there was only one real certainty—resistance was guaranteed.
Asher leaned in slightly, eyes flicking between the map and Astron's face, gauging his reaction. "Well? We going in loud or quiet?"
Astron tapped a finger against the tablet's frame, letting the silence stretch for a moment as he processed the information. His first instinct? He could handle this alone.
A fast, precise approach would get him in and out before anyone had the chance to fully react. But there was no need for that. He didn't have anything to prove—not here, not to them.
Instead, he was more interested in them.
How would Asher and Caden handle this? What insights could they offer?
Astron glanced up, his expression unreadable. "Thoughts?"
Asher's brows lifted slightly, as if caught off guard by the question. His initial instinct had likely been that Astron would just dictate a plan outright.
Caden, however, took it in stride, rubbing his chin as he peered at the wireframe map. "Alright, let's see… Third Floor, West Wing. If we assume the defenders are smart, they won't just bunker down around the artifact. That'd make them too easy to surround and pick off."
He traced a rough route with his finger. "So, they're probably setting up in layers. First line of defense here—stairwell access points, maybe some barricades. Second line would be closer, something tighter around the artifact itself."
Astron tilted his head slightly, listening. Half-right.
Asher nodded slowly, arms still crossed. "If they know what they're doing, they won't waste their strongest fighters on the outer defenses. Those are meant to stall, buy time. The real threat will be positioned inside the artifact's perimeter."
Astron gave a slow nod, but his eyes remained on the screen. "If they're competent, yes."
Asher's brow furrowed. "And if they're not?"
"Then this is over in five minutes." Astron didn't say it as a boast, just a fact.
Caden chuckled. "Kinda hoping they put up a fight, though. Wouldn't be fun otherwise."
Astron ignored that and refocused on the map.
"They'll have two main priorities: control the bottlenecks and limit sightlines." His voice was calm, measured. "If they're smart, their first defensive point won't be at the stairwells. It'll be just past them, where we'd think we're clear after breaking through."
Asher's head tilted slightly. "Ambush positioning?"
Astron nodded. "If I were setting up defenses, I'd let the attackers push up, make them believe they've secured ground—only to collapse in on them from the flanks once they're committed. Stairwells and main hallways are obvious choke points. But what's more dangerous are the rooms directly adjacent."
Caden's eyebrows raised slightly. "Huh. Didn't think of that."
Asher exhaled through his nose. "Makes sense. If we rush up, we're walking into a death trap."
Astron tapped the map again, this time highlighting the West Wing's upper balcony.
"Their best sniper, or anyone with ranged proficiency, should be stationed here. It's got a clear line of sight toward the primary entry points. If they're competent, they'll have someone watching it—either to pick off infiltrators or call out movements."
Asher crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "There aren't many rangers in this batch." His gaze flicked to Astron, almost challenging. "Not many archers like you."
Astron didn't react to the statement—he simply nodded. "Indeed." His voice remained calm, even. "I'm just reminding you—if they have any, they would be positioned there."
Asher exhaled through his nose, but he didn't argue further.
Caden, watching the exchange, smirked slightly. "So, worst case scenario, we've got someone with a bow watching that balcony. Best case, it's empty, and we don't have to worry about a surprise arrow to the skull."
Astron's eyes flicked back to the tablet. "That's not the only position they'll use." He traced his finger down to a section just beneath the artifact's location—a wide, but seemingly unremarkable hallway leading into the West Wing's storage area.
"This spot." His voice didn't change, but there was a weight behind it.
Caden raised an eyebrow. "You sure? That's… kind of an awkward place to set up."
Astron's fingers tapped against the screen. "Not if they expect attackers to push aggressively."
Asher leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing. "Go on."
Astron tilted the tablet slightly, his mind already playing out the battle before it even began. He had spent enough time observing these cadets, analyzing their instincts, their habits. Most of them were predictable.
And right now, that worked in his favor.
"If I were leading the defense," he continued, "I'd let the first wave of attackers rush up the main stairwell. Make them think they're advancing—maybe even let them reach the artifact room itself." He tapped the hallway again.
"This is where I'd cut them off."
Caden frowned. "You mean—?"
"They let us in," Astron said simply. "And when we're inside, when we're overcommitted—that's when they seal the exits and collapse in."
Silence.
Asher's fingers twitched against his arm.
"…Interesting." His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. "Didn't think of that."
Caden let out a short whistle. "Yeah, alright. That's nasty." He looked at Astron with something close to admiration. "You've thought about this a lot."
Astron's gaze remained on the map.
He already knew where the enemy would be.
This wasn't some grand revelation. It was just obvious.
The defenders weren't random. They were other cadets—cadets he had studied, fought alongside, sparred against. Their skill levels varied, but their decision-making?
That was predictable.
He knew their tendencies. How they hesitated. How they bluffed. How they reacted when under pressure.
Given the layout of the structure and the level of their training, predicting their defensive strategy wasn't difficult. They would fall into patterns—patterns he had seen before.
But he wasn't going to say that out loud.
No need to reveal what he knew.
Caden tapped a finger against the map, brows furrowed. "Alright, but what about the other offensive team? Are we working with them, or is this a full-on free-for-all?"
Astron's gaze didn't waver. "If the academy wanted us to work together, they wouldn't have separated us." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "It's far more likely they want to compare our effectiveness—see which team performs better."
Caden hummed, considering that for a second. Then he grinned. "Huh. So, we're in a competition. That means if we run into them, we could—"
Before he could finish, Astron glared at him, his sharp purple eyes carrying an almost imperceptible intensity.
"Besides," Astron continued, voice even but firm, "when we already have enough, why should we seek more?" His gaze didn't waver. "The three of us will be enough."
Caden blinked at him, then slowly raised his hand in surrender.
"Okay, man, I get it—you're confident." He smirked slightly. "But no need to be edgy."
Astron just stared.
Asher, standing next to them, exhaled sharply and facepalmed—just a little.
Caden cleared his throat. "Ahem. It was a joke."
"A bad one," Asher muttered, rubbing his temple. "This guy's duller than you think."
Astron simply shook his head, already tuning them out.
The conversation was done.
Now, it was time to execute.