Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest - Chapter 950

Chapter 950: Chapter 218.2 – Another practice
A new wave emerged—more this time. Twelve total, coming in from the forward corridor and two side crevices that hadn’t been there seconds ago.

“Spread is increasing,” Astron observed. “They’re adapting. Stay tight.”

Layla stepped forward again, knees bracing, shield held high. “Ready!”

Jasmine grunted, “More than ready,” and surged slightly forward—but just to the edge of her zone.

Irina lifted both hands, and heat flooded the tunnel. Her fire didn’t blast forward yet—but hovered in orbit, waiting. “This next burst is mine,” she said. “You’ll feel the air drop right after.”

“Noted,” Astron replied, his stance lowering.

Sylvie’s mana shimmered again, this time latching onto Irina’s flames—not with raw power, but control. The spiraling fire tightened, became denser, as if molded through glass.

“Second pressure point locked,” Sylvie announced.

Then the wave hit.

The hounds came faster, now overlapping each other, some leaping over fallen bodies, others diving low. Irina moved first, sending the compressed heat wave forward. The air bent visibly. Several creatures incinerated instantly—but two phased right through the flames.

“Spectral-grade. Non-impactable by elemental burn,” Astron said. “Rear incoming.”

“I see it,” Sylvie replied, a sharp flick of her hand sending three focused bursts backward. They didn’t explode—but pierced. The rear corridor flickered as a shrieking shape twisted mid-air and collapsed, its form warping mid-dissolution.

Layla was beginning to slow—her stance growing heavier as repeated clashes shook her core.

“Frontline weakening,” she gasped. “I need someone to intercept upper jumps!”

“On it,” Jasmine barked.

She surged forward within formation bounds, slashing upward as a hound launched from a wall toward Layla’s head. The slash didn’t just cut—it stunned. Layla caught the rest of the blow with her shoulder, then drove the beast back with her shield.

“Adjusting position!” Astron called, stepping past Irina just slightly—half-body lead. “Jasmine, fall to third line after this wave. Irina, you hold second.”

“Excuse me?” Irina snapped, but her flames still danced to his command.

“Mid-line pressure’s shifting. They’re targeting your zone more. You’ll bait better with a forward lean.”

Irina’s eyes narrowed—but her hands rose nonetheless.

The second wave collapsed moments later under their pressure, the last hound impaled mid-leap by a golden bolt from Sylvie.

Silence followed.

Their breathing steadied. Layla’s shield dropped slightly, her arms trembling from impact absorption.

Astron glanced around. “Good spacing. Adjustments were clean.”

Sylvie spoke softly. “Third wave will be specialized. Maybe a Phase Beast.”

“Or a redirector,” Jasmine added, panting.

Irina cracked her neck. “Let it come. I’ve got something saved.”

Astron gave a small nod, his purple eyes gleaming faintly beneath the pulsing dungeon light.

“Hold position. Reinforce zones. Next round will test our gaps.”

And behind them, the dungeon ceiling began to twist, glow, and split.

The next wave was coming.

****

The third wave fell harder, faster, but it barely made a difference.

Monsters burst through from shifting side corridors and jagged ceiling vents—spectral beasts fused with crystalline plating, their limbs flickering with red-glowing sigils. But the team didn’t falter.

Each role locked in.

Layla’s shield held the center like a living wall, intercepting claw swipes and slamming back force with reinforced mana. Jasmine rotated through flanks with precise footwork, her blade carving clean lines through exposed gaps. Irina’s fire painted the second line in waves of pressure, incinerating the bulk of forward threats before they could break formation.

Astron—quiet and ever-moving—patched cracks with surgical cuts and repositioned fluidly, acting as a pressure valve whenever a line wavered.

But more than anything, the formation held because of Sylvie.

Her position at the rear should’ve been passive—meant for barrier support and healing calls. But she was doing more.

Far more.

Glyphs laced the air behind the group, delicate and fluid, adjusting in real-time to enemy movement. Buffs rippled across their armor—speed, tension reduction, mana syncing. But it wasn’t just enchantments.

Sylvie’s hand flicked, and a whip of yellow light slashed a Phase Beast that tried to curve around Jasmine’s blind spot. Her footwork was crisp, her aim unnervingly precise.

She was fighting.

Like a mage.

And Irina noticed.

After the wave collapsed—crystalline corpses scattered across stone and burning slowly in the air’s residual heat—Irina turned.

Her amber eyes narrowed as they caught Sylvie’s outline through the residual smoke. The younger girl stood calm, composed, mana still glowing faintly at her fingertips.

“You’ve really improved,” Irina said, her voice carrying just loud enough to cross the chamber.

Sylvie blinked, her breath still slow from the fight. “Hm?”

Irina took a step closer, strands of fire curling lazily around her shoulder. “Since when did you learn to fight like that?”

Sylvie hesitated only a second. “I’ve been training,” she said simply. “A lot.”

Irina’s eyes flicked to where one of Sylvie’s light spikes was still embedded in the far wall—crackling quietly. “You’re a healer working on combat.”

Sylvie tilted her head. “Is that weird?”

“Yeah,” Irina said without hesitation, but her smirk was playful. “You’re quite an oddball.”

Sylvie opened her mouth as if to respond, but Irina cut in before she could.

“But I already knew that.”

The fire mage stepped closer, her stance casual now, gaze softening just slightly. “That’s why I sought you, after all.”

Sylvie’s breath caught.

For a brief moment, the chamber fell quiet again—not from a lack of threats, but from the strange stillness that came when something truthful settled into the air.

Irina wasn’t smiling out of superiority or teasing this time.

It was acknowledgment.

Genuine, rare, and clear as flame.

Sylvie blinked once, then glanced away, lips twitching faintly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Irina said, already turning as mana flickered on the walls again, signaling the next wave. “You’ve still got more surprises to show me, right?”

Sylvie’s gaze lingered on Irina for just a second longer—long enough to hold the weight of what had just been said—before her eyes shifted.

Upward.

To the far wall.

Astron stood partially silhouetted against the jagged stone, one foot braced on a ledge, the other anchored on a rune-marked outcrop. His coat fluttered slightly from the residual wind of the last spell. He wasn’t watching them. His eyes were trained ahead—sharp, unblinking, already reading the next layout.

He didn’t need to speak. His presence alone said it all.

But Sylvie’s eyes softened for a fleeting moment as she looked up at him. The way his posture never changed, how his attention never slipped… she’d grown used to that stillness. It didn’t intimidate her anymore.

Sylvie exhaled, then whispered to herself—so quietly even Irina barely caught it.

“Yes, I have.”

Irina didn’t comment.

She didn’t glance back at Sylvie, though her peripheral vision had caught the whole thing. The way Sylvie’s voice dipped. The way her eyes stayed locked on Astron longer than necessary.

But Irina chose silence.

Instead, she turned forward, flames curling quietly along her fingertips again.

From above, Astron’s voice finally cut through the dim, echoing chamber.

“Next wave’s position is shifting—looks like a split formation. Two entry points. Standard choke front, flanking rear.”

A low rumble followed—grinding stone, shifting architecture. The dungeon wasn’t just reacting; it was adjusting.

Jasmine swore softly. “They’re rotating spawn zones now?”

Layla raised her shield again, her stance low and steady. “Guess they think we’re too comfortable.”

“Let them try,” Irina said, stepping up beside her. “We’ll just make them regret it.”

Astron dropped silently from the wall, landing without a sound as he slid back into his mid-line position.

“Maintain layering,” he said calmly. “Pressure points hold. React only on pivot signals.”

Everyone nodded—no extra words this time.

They knew what to do.

The dungeon walls pulsed once, twice—then split open with a mechanical shriek.

And the hunt resumed.