Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 669

Chapter 669: Chapter 147.4 – Chamber of Emberheart
‘How long has it been… hours? Minutes?’

Time had become something distant, slipping away like sand through my fingers. Each second stretched, distorted by the heat until I couldn’t tell if I’d been here for a few breaths or half a day. Everything blurred into a haze of scorching air, searing pain, and the relentless pressure pushing down on me.

I could feel my own pulse thundering against the inside of my skull, each beat a reminder that I was still here, still enduring. But for how much longer? The fire wrapped around me, and pressed deeper, and my thoughts grew faint, scattered in the heat.

And then… something shifted. Subtle at first, a faint, almost imperceptible sensation—a tremor, like a ripple inside my chest, spreading outward. It felt… foreign as if it didn’t belong to me, yet at the same time, intimately familiar. It wasn’t the flames; no, this was something different, something that moved from within rather than pressing down from outside.

‘What… is this?’

The feeling grew, spreading through my body like a silent current, pushing back against the fire in a way that felt… instinctual. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was there, pulsing just beneath my awareness, building in intensity, matching the rhythm of the flames but working against them. It was as if some force within me had finally awakened, responding to the fire’s challenge.

‘Ah….Right…..’

The haze around my mind began to thin, as if that steady, foreign pulse was carving a path through the fire, clearing the fog that had consumed my thoughts. My awareness sharpened, the oppressive heat retreating to the edges, no longer clouding my mind. I could feel clarity returning, my senses recalibrating as the fire’s grip lessened.

And then I realized it—my subconscious had acted.

Somewhere, deep within, I’d triggered an old safeguard. My mana had traveled along a pre-planned path, connecting to something I’d embedded beneath the surface, something that, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have needed. But this was exactly why it was there, why I’d planned for a scenario like this in the first place.

I glanced down, and there it was: the faint glint of a small, nearly invisible needle pressed into my chest. I could feel it embedded near the ganglion just below my collarbone, exactly where I’d set it. The pain from it was sharper than the flames, precise and unyielding—a clean, piercing sensation that cut through the numbing heat like a knife.

‘So, it worked…’

“Haaah…..”

I let out a slow breath, feeling the faint sting of relief. This needle—this tiny mechanism of my own design—was a tool I’d developed when I’d begun studying psychic magic, particularly the mental defenses that could be employed in extreme conditions. I’d wondered, what if I encountered something that could warp my focus, that could slip through the cracks in my defenses? Something like the flames here, that didn’t just attack the body but also the mind?

And so, I’d crafted a solution. A needle, enchanted with just enough magic to stay hidden beneath my skin, with a small reserve of mana directed toward it. In the event that my thoughts were compromised, my subconscious would release that mana, sending a surge of pain through my chest—sharp enough to cut through any mental haze, but controlled so that it wouldn’t compromise my physical state.

‘A bit unconventional, but necessary.’

I leaned into the feeling, letting that controlled pain bring me fully back to myself. It wasn’t overwhelming; it didn’t distract from the flames, but it gave me something to anchor to, a solid line that my mind could follow back to clarity. The fire continued to burn, pressing in with its relentless fury, but now I could meet it with clear intent.

‘And now, you will start to act.’

The moment I thought it, I felt a familiar pull—a sudden, intense drain as my mana began to flow, not outwards, but inward, toward the center of my chest.

–The Everchanging Glyph.

It flared to life, pulsing beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. The rune’s ancient symbols, etched into me through countless hours of training and adaptation, began to absorb mana at a steady, insistent rate. It was a sensation I’d grown accustomed to during training, but here, under the relentless assault of the flames, it felt different—hungrier, more eager. It was as if the glyph itself sensed the extremity of the environment, the intensity of the flames, and recognized it as a call to evolve.

‘So, this is how you react…’

I let the glyph do its work, feeling the familiar tingling spread through my limbs as it adapted, recalibrating my body. This was its core purpose—the ability to shift, to adjust to any condition, to place me in the most optimal state for survival. It was as though my body and mana were reorienting themselves, aligning with the chamber’s conditions. Muscles tensed, then relaxed, my skin grew attuned to the heat, feeling it more acutely but managing to endure it more efficiently.

A faint glow spread from my chest, like faint embers flickering to life just beneath my skin. The glyph was adapting, realigning every fiber, every cell, until my body understood the conditions here and began to acclimate. I could feel my breathing ease, each intake of air no longer searing my lungs as intensely. Even my skin felt less vulnerable, almost as if it had developed a slight resilience to the heat licking at it.

‘Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.’

The Everchanging Glyph had been invaluable in training, adjusting my body to withstand fatigue, amplify strength, or enhance agility.

But here, in the Chamber of Emberheart, I could feel it pushing itself further, beyond what I’d experienced. This wasn’t just about stamina or strength. It was a full-body adaptation, aligning me with the unyielding heat of the flames themselves.

The rune’s power dug deeper, reaching into the recesses of my mana reserves and siphoning it in controlled bursts, fueling the changes with precision. I felt my heart rate steady, my muscles relax, and my skin cool slightly, an effect that didn’t lessen the fire’s presence but made it… bearable. I could feel the glyph tuning me to the rhythm of the flames, matching its cadence with my own, like two forces reaching an understanding.

‘This is the basis of the glyph… complete adaptation.’

The fire surged again, pressing in, testing my defenses. But now, I wasn’t merely enduring. I was meeting it with something that grew stronger with each wave, a force that evolved as quickly as the fire shifted.

The Everchanging Glyph was feeding on the mana, growing more attuned to the environment, syncing with the chamber’s unique mana signature. It understood the flames’ rhythm now, the ebb and flow of their heat, and it adjusted my body accordingly.

Every nerve and every muscle responded in kind, evolving in real-time. And in that moment, I realized something crucial: this trial was no longer just a test of endurance. It had become an opportunity—a way for the glyph to evolve, to mold my body and mind into something sharper, more resilient.

‘If this is the Chamber of Emberheart’s test, then bring it on.’

With the glyph blazing into my body, I met the flames head-on, feeling not just the burn, but the edge of something powerful building within me. The chamber might have been designed to strip me down, but here, with my glyph pushing me to the threshold, I was becoming something new, something forged in fire. And I knew, without a doubt, I would emerge stronger.

********

The following evening, Irina sat across from her mother at the long dining table, her posture composed and her expression unreadable. She sipped her tea calmly, her eyes fixed on the view beyond the window as though nothing unusual had transpired.

The Matriarch observed her daughter with a hint of surprise, her brows lifting slightly. She had expected Irina to look more unsettled, perhaps distracted or visibly restless, given that Astron had spent the night in the Chamber of Emberheart. Yet here Irina sat, serene and composed, as if it were any other morning.

“Surprisingly calm today, aren’t we?” the Matriarch remarked, her tone deceptively casual as she studied Irina. “I half-expected you would be pacing around, perhaps anxiously awaiting news of his… performance.”

Irina met her mother’s gaze with an unwavering calm, her expression unflinching. “I trust him,” she replied simply, her voice steady. “He knew what he was getting into, and I believe he’ll endure. Worrying won’t change anything.”

The Matriarch’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the underlying determination in her daughter’s words. “Trust,” she repeated, her tone holding a faint trace of skepticism. “It’s easy to place trust in someone until that trust is tested. I wonder, Irina… will he live up to the faith you so freely give?”

Irina took a measured sip of her tea, meeting her mother’s gaze without hesitation. “He’s stronger than you think,” she replied. “And if he proves himself, I trust that you’ll see him in a different light.”

The Matriarch’s smile was faint, her eyes gleaming with a mix of intrigue and quiet satisfaction. “We shall see,” she murmured, her voice soft but edged with authority. “If he truly survives the Chamber, he may indeed deserve a second look. However, resilience in a single trial is no guarantee of worth. Only time and consistent strength reveal the truth.”

Irina held her mother’s gaze, her own eyes fierce but composed. “Then I suppose he’ll have more opportunities to prove himself.”

The Matriarch allowed a small smile, watching her daughter closely. So composed, she mused, even when faced with uncertainty. Perhaps Astron’s influence was not entirely unworthy—Irina’s quiet confidence was, in itself, a testament to something she had long searched for in her daughter.

Just as they returned to their meal, the heavy sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hall. The Matriarch’s attention shifted, a hint of curiosity flickering across her face as the door to the dining room slowly opened, revealing one of the Emberheart servants.

“Madam, Lady Irina,” the servant announced, bowing deeply. “Mr. Natusalune has emerged from the Chamber.”

Irina’s expression softened, relief flickering in her eyes for just a moment before she composed herself again. She exchanged a look with her mother, her silent confidence steady as ever.

The Matriarch’s expression remained neutral, though her eyes betrayed a hint of surprise—and perhaps, grudging respect. “Bring him here,” she said, her voice smooth and measured. “It seems he has earned a conversation.”