Hunter Academy: Revenge of the Weakest-Chapter 1007 - 237.2 - Gate Examination

The café doors swung open with a soft chime as the group stepped out into the crisp midday air. The sun had climbed higher now, casting sharp, clear beams across the academy grounds. A light breeze carried the faint scent of mana residue from the training fields, and everywhere cadets hurried to their own stations—checking gear, coordinating strategies, running last-minute drills.

Their group moved in steady formation, their steps measured, a reflection of the quiet understanding between them.

Their gear was familiar, each piece chosen with purpose. No flashy new equipment. No unnecessary changes.

After a brief discussion that morning, they had agreed: it was better to stick with what they knew. Their armor, weapons, and enchantments were already calibrated to their fighting styles. Confidence came from familiarity—and today wasn't about flashy displays.

It was about setting a tone.

Their first dungeon round.

Their first real impression.

Sylvie tightened her gloves slightly, feeling the familiar hum of mana running through the fabric. Irina adjusted the clasps on her combat jacket, flames flickering faintly along her fingers before fading. Jasmine twirled her dagger once, casually slipping it back into its sheath, while Layla gave her shield strap a sharp tug, securing it firmly against her arm.

Astron simply walked at the head of their group, silent as always, his presence steady as a compass point.

As they approached the central training grounds, the noise grew louder. The familiar gateway into the Mana-Linked Dungeon Arena loomed ahead—its massive arch inscribed with runes that pulsed faintly with silver-blue light.

But it wasn't the gate that caught their attention.

It was the crowd.

Lines of observers stood behind the barriers, their uniforms and badges marking them clearly—guild representatives, scouts, academy affiliates, and even a few private contractors. Their sharp eyes tracked the cadets moving toward the arena, clipboards and digital tablets in hand, murmuring notes to one another.

Layla let out a low whistle under her breath. "Whoa. That's… more than I expected."

Jasmine tilted her head, scanning the crowd with a grin. "It's not festival level, but still... this is serious."

Sylvie's heart thudded a little harder, but she kept her face composed. The number of scouts wasn't overwhelming—but it was definitely more than she had imagined.

Each one a potential opportunity—or a silent judge.

Irina, walking a step ahead, barely even glanced at the mass of scouts and officials. Her expression was cool, almost indifferent. The sharp glances, the notetaking, the subtle murmurs of judgment—it was all something she was intimately familiar with.

Growing up under the Emberheart name, she had spent her entire life under a spotlight. Interviews. Appearances. Expectations.

This?

This was nothing.

She carried herself with a casual, almost dismissive air, her fiery red hair catching the light like a burning banner as she strode forward. Let them look. Let them judge. It didn't matter. She would show them her strength soon enough.

Astron, as expected, showed even less reaction. His expression remained composed, distant. He simply continued walking, his sharp purple eyes flickering briefly over the assembled scouts before disregarding them entirely. In his mind, they were as much a part of the scenery as the stones under his feet. Irrelevant until proven otherwise.

Their team pushed through the final checkpoint, where a faculty member in dark academy robes waited with a tablet in hand.

It was Instructor Lowell—one of the field supervisors assigned to manage the practical examinations.

He looked up as they approached, his sharp gray eyes assessing them quickly before nodding once.

"Team Irina Emberheart," he said, reading from the glowing tablet. "You're next in queue."

He tapped a few buttons and projected a floating hologram above the tablet—a rough outline of a dungeon zone.

"This is your briefing," he continued, his voice clipped and efficient. "You'll be deployed into a collapsed urban zone—abandoned ruins, scattered vertical structures, minimal intact walls. Visibility will be low due to mana fog drifting through the area. Expect vertical combat scenarios—broken floors, unstable platforms, high ground contesting."

The group leaned in slightly, their faces sharpening as they absorbed the information.

"No prior intel will be given beyond this," Lowell continued. "You're expected to scout, secure objectives, and adapt. Remember: environmental hazards are active. Falling from unstable areas will trigger automatic extraction and count as a critical failure for your team." freewёbnoνel.com

Sylvie frowned slightly at that.

Falling hazards meant pressure not only from enemies but from the terrain itself.

They would need to move carefully—and quickly.

Layla tapped her shield lightly against the ground, her blue eyes steady. "Got it."

Jasmine grinned, rolling her shoulders. "Sounds fun."

The moment they crossed the threshold, the air shifted.

The comforting warmth of the academy grounds vanished, replaced by a clinging chill that seemed to seep into the bones. Mana fog rolled in thick tendrils across the shattered ruins, swirling around broken walls, half-collapsed buildings, and jagged remnants of once-proud towers. The sky above was a swirling mess of muted grays, casting everything in a dim, eerie twilight.

No sunlight. No clarity.

Only ruins and mist.

Their team moved without needing to say a word, instinct pulling them into a tight formation. Even Jasmine's usual easy grin faded into a focused expression. Layla's steps were heavier, more deliberate. Sylvie's hands hovered near her belt where mana threads pulsed faintly between her fingers, ready to weave at a moment's notice.

Irina adjusted the cuffs of her jacket, fire flickering faintly at the edges of her hands before disappearing—contained, but not forgotten.

Astron didn't say anything at first. He simply broke formation, moving toward a half-collapsed building with the kind of fluid, practiced efficiency that spoke of hundreds of similar runs.

No one questioned him.

They spread into a temporary holding pattern, keeping eyes on possible approach angles while Astron moved.

He scaled the structure with quiet precision, boots scraping lightly against cracked stone, fingers finding handholds almost as if by instinct. He climbed higher, until he reached the remains of a second-floor ledge—just high enough to see across the drifting mana fog.

He crouched low, his sharp purple eyes scanning the terrain.

Long seconds passed.

Below, the others waited.

Finally, Astron's voice crackled quietly through the team comms channel, steady and calm.

"Two primary groups. First wave is mana-ravaged beasts—looks like mutated canids. Fast, erratic movement. High vertical mobility. They're using the debris fields for cover."

Sylvie's brow furrowed slightly, absorbing the details.

"Second group is heavier," Astron continued. "Mid-sized constructs. Broken-down armor frames reanimated by mana flow. Slower, but armored and dense. They cluster around collapsed towers—defensive posture."

Layla gripped her shield tighter. "Two threat types, different speeds. We need layered defense."

"Yes," Astron confirmed. "And the fog's denser near the ground. Visibility's almost zero past ten meters at foot level. They'll be using that to flank if we're not careful."

Irina's voice crackled through next, firm. "Formation?"

Astron's answer came without hesitation. "Tri-layer adaptation, rotating diamond. Layla leads front center—focus shield reinforcement. Irina and Jasmine stagger second line, left and right split. Sylvie anchors rear, high focus on mobility support. I'll pivot between lines based on engagement."

Layla nodded firmly. "Understood."

Jasmine twirled her dagger once before readying it properly, followed by her sword. "Finally. I hate waiting."

Sylvie breathed out slowly, the tension in her shoulders fading into calm readiness. "On your mark."

Astron stood from the ledge, sharp eyes still tracking faint movements in the mist.

"Mark."

The team moved.

No hesitation. No second guessing.

Layla advanced first, shield up, her stance wide and unyielding as she cut a path through the denser fog. Irina and Jasmine slipped into mirrored flanking positions, one step behind and to either side—ready to collapse inward or fan out depending on pressure.

Sylvie's steps were quieter but no less firm, mana swirling faintly around her gloves as she calibrated defensive and acceleration glyphs on the fly.

And Astron descended like a whisper behind them, dropping into shadowed cover before vanishing into the half-ruined terrain.